with you," she said with her hand already on the door.

"It is sixteen miles," said Marcos, "over the high mountains. The last
part can only be done by daylight. I shall be in the mountains all
night."

Juanita had opened the door. She stood on the step looking up at him as
he sat on the tall black horse,

"If you will take me," she said in French, "I will come with you."

Sor Teresa was silent still. She had not spoken since Marcos had pulled
up his sweating horse in the lamplight. What a simple world this would be
if more of its women knew when to hold their tongues!

Marcos, fresh from a bed of sickness was not fit to undertake this
journey. He must already be tired out; for she knew that it was Marcos
who had followed their carriage from Pampeluna. She guessed that finding
no troops where he expected to find them he had ridden ahead to discover
the cause of it and had passed unheard through the Carlist ambush and
back again through the zone of fire. That Juanita could accomplish the
journey on foot to Torre Garda seemed doubtful. The country was unsafe;
the snows had hardly melted. It was madness for a wounded man and a girl
to attempt to reach Torre Garda through a pass held by the enemy. But Sor
Teresa said nothing.

Marcos sat motionless in the saddle. His face was above the radius of the
reversed carriage-lamp, while Juanita standing on the dusty road in her
nun's dress looking up at him, was close to the glaring light. It is to
be presumed that he was watching her descend from the carriage and then
turn to shut the door on Sor Teresa. By his silence, Marcos seemed to
consent to this arrangement.

He came forward into the light now. In his hand he held a paper which he
was unfolding. Juanita recognised the letter she had written to him in
the drawing-room at Torre Garda. He tore the blank sheet off and folding
the letter closely, replaced it in his pocket. Then he laid the blank
sheet on the dusty splash-board of the carriage and wrote a few words in
pencil.

"You must get back to Pampeluna," he said to the driver in that tone of
command which is the only survival of feudal days now left in Europe--and
even the modern Spaniards are losing it--"at any cost--you understand. If
you meet the reinforcements on the road give this note to the commanding
officer. Take no denial; give it into his own hand. If you meet no troops
go straight to the house of the commandant at Pampeluna and give the
letter to him.