ll owe the blessing of his
life? On my brother's account? But my brother has written to my father
justifying you, and magnanimously praising you as a man, while hating
you as an English soldier. On my account? But he could not give this
reason to the Governor. As for me, I was silent, I waited--and I wait;
I know not what will be the end. Meanwhile preparations go on to receive
you."

I could see that Alixe's mood was more tranquil since Doltaire was gone.
A certain restlessness had vanished. Her manner had much dignity, and
every movement a peculiar grace and elegance. She was dressed in a soft
cloth of a gray tone, touched off with red and slashed with gold, and
a cloak of gray, trimmed with fur, with bright silver buckles, hung
loosely on her, thrown off at one shoulder. There was a sweet disorder
in the hair, which indeed was prettiest when freest.

When she had finished speaking, she looked at me, as I thought, with a
little anxiety.

"Alixe," I said, "we have come to the cross-roads, and the way we choose
now is for all time."

She looked up, startled, yet governing herself, and her hand sought
mine and nestled there. "I feel that, too," she replied. "What is it,
Robert?"

"I can not in honour escape from your father's house. I can not steal
his daughter and his safety too--"

"You must escape," she interrupted firmly.

"From here, from the citadel, from anywhere but your house; and so I
will not go to it."

"You will not go to it?" she repeated slowly and strangely. "How may
you not? You are a prisoner. If they make my father your jailer--" She
laughed.

"I owe that jailer and that jailer's daughter--"

"You owe them your safety and your freedom. Oh, Robert, I know, I know
what you mean. But what care I what the world may think by-and-bye, or
to-morrow, or to-day? My conscience is clear."

"Your father--" I persisted.

She nodded. "Yes, yes, you speak truth, alas! And yet you must be freed.
And"--here she got to her feet, and with flashing eyes spoke out--"and
you shall be set free. Let come what will, I owe my first duty to you,
though all the world chatter; and I will not stir from that. As soon as
I can make it possible, you shall escape."

"You shall have the right to set me free," said I, "if I must go to
your father's house. And if I do not go there, but out to my own good
country, you shall still have the right before all the world to follow,
or to wait till I come to fetch you."

"I do