honor, and I shall give the adjutant certain orders which he will
faithfully execute. As for me, I shall return on foot to Alencon with my
maid, and take a few of the soldiers with me. Listen to what I say, for
your life depends on it. If, before you reach a place of safety, you
meet that odious man you saw in my company at the inn, escape at once,
for he will instantly betray you. As for me,--" she paused, "as for me,
I fling myself back into the miseries of life. Farewell, monsieur, may
you be happy; farewell."

She made a sign to Captain Merle, who was just then reaching the brow
of the hill behind her. The marquis was taken unawares by her sudden
action.

"Stop!" he cried, in a tone of despair that was well acted.

This singular caprice of a girl for whom he would at that instant have
thrown away his life so surprised him that he invented, on the spur of
the moment, a fatal fiction by which to hide his name and satisfy the
curiosity of his companion.

"You have almost guessed the truth," he said. "I am an _emigre_,
condemned to death, and my name is Vicomte de Bauvan. Love of my country
has brought me back to France to join my brother. I hope to be taken off
the list of _emigres_ through the influence of Madame de Beauharnais,
now the wife of the First Consul; but if I fail in this, I mean to die
on the soil of my native land, fighting beside my friend Montauran. I am
now on my way secretly, by means of a passport he has sent me, to learn
if any of my property in Brittany is still unconfiscated."

While the young man spoke Mademoiselle de Verneuil examined him with
a penetrating eye. She tried at first to doubt his words, but being
by nature confiding and trustful, she slowly regained an expression
of serenity, and said eagerly, "Monsieur, are you telling me the exact
truth?"

"Yes, the exact truth," replied the young man, who seemed to have no
conscience in his dealings with women.

Mademoiselle de Verneuil gave a deep sigh, like a person who returns to
life.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I am very happy."

"Then you hate that poor Montauran?"

"No," she said; "but I could not make you understand my meaning. I was
not willing that _you_ should meet the dangers from which I will try to
protect him,--since he is your friend."

"Who told you that Montauran was in danger?"

"Ah, monsieur, even if I had not come from Paris, where his enterprise
is the one thing talked of, the commandant at Alencon said enough to