, phrases and intonations of
voice. It was by strong effort only that I was able to maintain my
old identity; I could not allow myself to forget for an instant, so
automatically imperative had become the new personality I had created.

Once inside the little cabin, I saw Ernest's face in the light. With the
exception of the prison pallor, there was no change in him--at least,
not much. He was my same lover-husband and hero. And yet there was a
certain ascetic lengthening of the lines of his face. But he could well
stand it, for it seemed to add a certain nobility of refinement to the
riotous excess of life that had always marked his features. He might
have been a trifle graver than of yore, but the glint of laughter still
was in his eyes. He was twenty pounds lighter, but in splendid
physical condition. He had kept up exercise during the whole period of
confinement, and his muscles were like iron. In truth, he was in better
condition than when he had entered prison. Hours passed before his head
touched pillow and I had soothed him off to sleep. But there was no
sleep for me. I was too happy, and the fatigue of jail-breaking and
riding horseback had not been mine.

While Ernest slept, I changed my dress, arranged my hair differently,
and came back to my new automatic self. Then, when Biedenbach and the
other comrades awoke, with their aid I concocted a little conspiracy.
All was ready, and we were in the cave-room that served for kitchen
and dining room when Ernest opened the door and entered. At that moment
Biedenbach addressed me as Mary, and I turned and answered him. Then I
glanced at Ernest with curious interest, such as any young comrade might
betray on seeing for the first time so noted a hero of the Revolution.
But Ernest's glance took me in and questioned impatiently past and
around the room. The next moment I was being introduced to him as Mary
Holmes.

To complete the deception, an extra plate was laid, and when we sat down
to table one chair was not occupied. I could have cried with joy as I
noted Ernest's increasing uneasiness and impatience. Finally he could
stand it no longer.

"Where's my wife?" he demanded bluntly.

"She is still asleep," I answered.

It was the crucial moment. But my voice was a strange voice, and in it
he recognized nothing familiar. The meal went on. I talked a great
deal, and enthusiastically, as a hero-worshipper might talk, and it
was obvious that he was my hero. I rose to a