ill neither tell nor hang.'

"Then, seeing it was time for adieu, I ran for it; a great hue and cry
was raised after me, but I managed to get out of the palace by an open
window on the ground floor, and by doubling and twisting like a hare,
I got back, unmolested, to the inn. Now, Babache, was there any
indiscretion there?"

I was forced to admit that I could not name any fault he had
committed; for surely, his not betraying Count Saxe was not a fault.

"The torrents of rain still continued, and it seemed to me best that
we should not lose a moment in getting out of Mitau; and so I told
Francezka. I proposed to her that we should cross the river by the
bridge of boats. This she at once agreed to; in fact, she proved the
most docile creature imaginable in moments of real danger. The
crossing of the bridge was not easy, the boats being rickety, and the
wind and rain making our footing insecure; but she accomplished it
without a sign of alarm--even with gaiety. Once on the other side of
the river, we walked briskly, our cloaks protecting us well, and kept
to the highroad. I thought it likely the town of Mitau would be well
searched for me before the seekers crossed the river. And presently
the rains ceased and the sun came out. It seemed as if good fortune
had adopted us, and we fared along gaily enough."

Yes, the two no doubt were in great spirits and much laughter, still
thinking it a mere escapade.

"Toward noon we reached a considerable village with a good inn and
posting house, and going boldly to the inn, I demanded horses. The
people seemed to be touched by our youth; they thought--" here a flush
showed under Gaston's tan and sunburn--"they thought we were a couple
running away to be married, and their sympathy for us was not
diminished by the liberal way in which I paid for all I wanted. Here
Francezka rested for an hour or two, and I worked out my plan for
reaching Uzmaiz with her, as that was our only refuge. I told her all
the risks we ran, and offered to follow any other plan which seemed
good to her. But she assured me of her confidence in me, and, in
truth, there was but one thing for us to do--to make for Uzmaiz. While
she was resting I had gone out and bought a handsome riding suit for
her; for it was clearly best that she should travel as my young
brother Francois. When I produced the riding suit, and told her gently
the necessity for wearing it, she turned pale and burst into tears.
What strange cr