e hours together in these wild forests, watched, it is true, but
still virtually alone. At night Francezka has slept soundly on her bed
of boughs, while I watched; and she has risen at dawn, while I
slept."

"And she watched," I said.

Gaston blushed deeply and made no reply.

The fire was flaming redly; all else black--black sky, black earth,
black trees. My eyes turned again to the larch tree under which
Francezka slept. She had wakened, and raising herself upon her arm,
was gazing at me with those eloquent eyes of hers. I went over toward
her. She sat up on the edge of her bed of boughs, and disposing her
cloak about her, so as to hide her masculine dress, she said,
smiling:

"I knew you would come, and I thank you with all my heart. When do we
depart?"

"To-morrow morning, Mademoiselle," I replied.

"And why not to-night?" she asked, turning to Gaston Cheverny, who had
also approached.

"It would be difficult for us men to travel through these wilds by
night, and for you it would be impossible."

Then Francezka said to me, most earnestly:

"It is I, and I alone, who should be blamed for this. I should have
made Monsieur Cheverny leave me in the market-place at Mitau. I could
have taken care of myself, and I should not have brought all this
trouble and anxiety on Monsieur Cheverny or you, Captain Babache, and
on Count Saxe--unfortunate that I am."

"You could not have made me leave you, Mademoiselle," replied Gaston.
"And, besides, it is extremely dangerous in Mitau now for any one who
is supposed to be connected with Count Saxe. No, Mademoiselle, no one
is to blame, except these ruffians. Perhaps Madame Riano might have
been more prudent, but Madame Riano can scarcely be reckoned a prudent
woman."

Francezka smiled again.

"You are right. My Aunt Peggy has the spirit of forty men, and
Kirkpatricks at that, in her; and no risk has ever daunted her yet.
She is not likely, at her time of life, to learn prudence."

"But," cried Gaston, hotly, "she may well take risks for herself; but
for you--pardon, Mademoiselle--"

Francezka raised her hand warningly.

"My aunt takes no risks for me that she takes not for herself. God
made her entirely without fear, and so must we quarrel, not with her,
but with God, for making her what she is."

Francezka rose and came toward the little fire we had made. I noticed
some of Schnelling's rascals watching us through the screen of boughs,
but there was nothing to se