she was rewarded. The worst of
the terrible days were now past, but still disguise was necessary, and
it was in the dress of one of her own peasants--the dress in which she
had fled--that Mademoiselle Jeanne returned. But he knew her--through
all disguises he would have known her--and she him. And the first
evening they were together in the bare, deserted house, even with all
the terrors behind them, the perils before them, the husband and wife
were happy."

Dudu paused again. The children, too interested to speak, listened
eagerly.

"Go on, dear Dudu," whispered Jeanne at last, softly.

"How were they to get away to safety? That was the question," continued
Dudu. "They dared not stay long where they were; yet they dared not go.
Monsieur was far too feeble to stand much fatigue, and the two of them
journeying together might attract notice.

"'If we could get to the sea,' said Mademoiselle Jeanne--Madame I should
call her, but it never comes naturally--there we might find a ship to
take us to England or Holland, and thence find our way to our dear ones
again.'

"But Monsieur shook his head. 'Impossible,' he said. 'I have not the
strength for even the four leagues' walk to the sea, and finding a ship
that would take us is a mere chance. We have almost no money. Here at
least we have shelter, and still some sous for bread. Jeanne, my
beloved, you must make up your mind to leave me again--alone and
unhindered you might find your way back in safety.'

"'I will never leave you,' said Jeanne. 'We will die together, if it
must be so. The boys are safe--my father and mother and Eliane will care
for them. I will never leave you.'

"And Monsieur said no more; but in his own mind I could see that he
thought himself fast dying, that want of comforts and nourishment much
longer would exhaust his little strength, and that his poor Jeanne
would, in the end, be forced to attempt the journey back alone. They
were sitting at the end of the terrace walk that evening--the end near
little Charlotte's balcony; it was a mild, still evening--it seemed less
dreary and miserable than in the house; from the distance came the sound
of the children playing in the old streets, and near at hand some birds
were singing still--for children will play and birds will sing whatever
happens. Suddenly a sound close at hand made Mademoiselle Jeanne look
up. And I too, for I was close beside them on the terrace, I looked up
in amazement, half imaginin