if it were known--if no more than
the mere truth were told--would it not seem to justify the Count de
Lavardin?"

"I do not ask you to do as you have done. For only two or three days you
need pass as a boy. You may then not only resume the habit of a woman,
but enjoy the company and friendship of a woman as saintly as yourself.
Your presence in her house must be a secret till affairs mend, but you
may be sure that if her friendship for you were known, it would be a
sufficient answer to anything your husband or the world might say
against you."

"It is of your mother that you speak. But I told you before, it is not
from you that I dare accept so much."

"It will be from my mother, who will believe me when I tell her the
truth, and who will take you as her guest and friend for your own sake.
As for me, my affairs in Paris will keep me from La Tournoire while you
are there:--for consider, what I propose now is not what you refused
that night we fled from Lavardin. I spoke then of your making La
Tournoire your refuge for an indefinite time,--the rest of your life, if
need be:--I speak now of your staying there only till your safe
residence at the convent can be assured,--only a few months, or weeks."

Though I had begun and ended by speaking of the convent, I did so merely
with the object of inducing her to go to La Tournoire. Once there, she
would be under the guidance and persuasion of my mother, who could
influence her to remain till the Count's death removed all danger.

"You must not refuse, Madame," I went on. "God has shown that He does
not desire your death, and it must be His will that you should accept
this plan, so clear and simple. Speak, Madame!"

"I know not.--I have no strength, no will, to oppose further. Let it be
as you think best." The last vestige of her power of objection, of
resolving or thinking for herself, seemed to pass out in a tired sigh.

"Good!" I cried. "Then we have but to regain the road and find some inn
for the night. To-morrow we shall ride back to Chateaudun, or perhaps on
to Bonneval, and then make for La Tournoire by Le Mans and Sable, which
is to give a wide berth to Montoire and the road we have come by. Do you
think you can rise, Madame?--Nay, wait till I lead the horses out."

I took the horses to the glade, then returned and found the Countess
already on her feet, though with her hand against the tree, as she was
somewhat dizzy. She walked with my assistance, and I helped