"Do not speak of her. In three days she succumbed to fever on the banks of the Zambesi." "I do not dispute it. But Lady Baker never left her husband, and Ida Pfeiffer twice travelled round the world. And have you no recollection of that charming young girl, the Countess Alexina Tinne, who, though scarcely twenty-three, had traversed the whole of Eastern Africa?" "Ah!" said he, "do not cite her example. She is dead, as you know, a victim to Arabian butchery." "Well," she replied, without a tremor in her voice, "if God so wills it, I will die as she did. I have often thought of her glorious death, and it has no terrors for me." Hopeless of convincing her, he asked at last— "When do you set out?" "That I shall decide this very evening." "With these other gentlemen?" "Yes," she replied, casting down her eyes. He moved impatiently, with a gesture of repugnance. But, with an effort he recovered himself, and said calmly— "I leave you with them, but shall I not see you again?" "Every day, if you wish, until my departure. It cannot take place at once, as I have many preparations to make." "And will you let me have news of you when you are away?" "Certainly. But you know that the opportunities of sending letters are few and far between." "Unfortunately, that is so," said he. "May I write to you?" he added. "I beg you will. Your letters will seem to me fragrant of home." The bell rang. "Here are they whom you await," said M. Desrioux. "Happier than I, they come, doubtless, to say that they will accompany you. I prefer not meeting them, so pray let me escape by this other door." "Go, then," she said, sadly, as she held out her hand in token of farewell. CHAPTER V. MM. de Morin and Périères were evidently in the best of humours when Madame de Guéran joined them, and, as had been foreseen by Dr. Desrioux, they were the bearers of good news for their fair hostess. Nevertheless, she looked at them anxiously and inquiringly, as she said— "Well?" "We go with you," was the joint reply. "Could you doubt it?" added the painter. "There was no need to give me a week to reflect. The morning after you imparted your project to us, I made up my mind to follow you to the end of the world, if you wished it." "As for me," chimed in M. Périères, by way of stealing a march on his rival, "my resolution was taken before you had finished speaking."