On the other hand, if she--Fernande--did go to La Vieuville--as her first instinct had prompted her to do--and warned de Maurel not to go alone to the factory this night, there was no doubt that the plans of de Puisaye would not only be gravely jeopardized, but they would be rendered impossible of execution, and her father's position, not to speak of Laurent's and of the other chiefs', would be irretrievably compromised--their lives probably in danger. De Maurel, scenting a conspiracy, would at once pass the word round to the garrisons close by, and until their arrival he would know how to protect his property with the help of his own loyal workmen. This, Madame had undoubtedly put very clearly before Fernande; she could not save de Maurel from the _guet-apens_ which had been prepared against him, except by sacrificing Laurent, her father and her friends--her King and his cause. Indeed, it was only God who could show a way through such an appalling perplexity, and Fernande was more than justified in her conviction that the thought which came to her whilst she knelt heart-broken and in prayer, was a direct manifestation of His will. "I can at least save him from that assassin," she thought, when at nine o'clock she started on her way. II Fernande had only once been to the La Frontenay factories, and that was over a year ago in the company of de Maurel. Since then she had purposely avoided taking her walks in that direction, and her recollection of the place was, therefore, hazy and incomplete. She had now been walking a little over half an hour when a sudden bend in the road revealed the proximity of the huge pile of irregular buildings--standing partly within iron fencings, partly inside the precincts of high boundary walls--which nestled at the foot of the hills and represented Ronnay de Maurel's priceless patrimony. Up to now she had met an occasional passer-by on the highway--a belated workman going to his home, a young pair of lovers out for a stroll, a housewife with heavy basket returning from Domfront--but here silence and loneliness appeared to be absolute. A row of street-lanthorns fixed in the boundary walls of the group of buildings shed uneven circles of light at intervals, and inside the precincts a few of the windows showed a light, whilst higher up two clock-towers loomed out of the darkness like monster glow-worms.