as Montauran might be, its secret was impenetrable to him,
though the tones of her voice betrayed some extraordinary and unusual
emotion which piqued his curiosity.

"You have a singular way of dispelling suspicion," he said.

"Do you still suspect me?" she replied, looking him in the eye, as if to
say, "What rights have you over me?"

"Mademoiselle," said the young man, in a voice that was submissive
and yet firm, "the authority you exercise over Republican troops, this
escort--"

"Ah, that reminds me! My escort and I," she asked, in a slightly
satirical tone, "your protectors, in short,--will they be safe here?"

"Yes, on the word of a gentleman. Whoever you be, you and your party
have nothing to fear in my house."

The promise was made with so loyal and generous an air and manner that
Mademoiselle de Verneuil felt absolutely secure as to the safety of
the Republican soldiers. She was about to speak when Madame du Gua's
approach silenced her. That lady had either overheard or guessed part of
their conversation, and was filled with anxiety at no longer perceiving
any signs of animosity between them. As soon as the marquis caught sight
of her, he offered his hand to Mademoiselle de Verneuil and led her
hastily towards the house, as if to escape an undesired companion.

"I am in their way," thought Madame du Gua, remaining where she was.
She watched the lovers walking slowly towards the portico, where they
stopped, as if satisfied to have placed some distance between themselves
and her. "Yes, yes, I am in their way," she repeated, speaking to
herself; "but before long that creature will not be in mine; the lake,
God willing, shall have her. I'll help him keep his word as a gentleman;
once under the water, she has nothing to fear,--what can be safer than
that?"

She was looking fixedly at the still mirror of the little lake to the
right when suddenly she heard a rustling among the rushes and saw in the
moonlight the face of Marche-a-Terre rising behind the gnarled trunk
of an old willow. None but those who knew the Chouan well could have
distinguished him from the tangle of branches of which he seemed a part.
Madame du Gua looked about her with some distrust; she saw the postilion
leading his horses to a stable in the wing of the chateau which was
opposite to the bank where Marche-a-Terre was hiding; Francine, with her
back to her, was going towards the two lovers, who at that moment had
forgotten the whole earth