He was in honour bound to go; he must ride away; the horse was already saddled, and he had only a few minutes in which to say good-bye. He must leave her in Uncle Joseph's care till he came back. Uncle Joseph said it was his duty to go. That very morning he was to have started for England; his companion would be waiting for him and running a thousand risks; he must meet him at the appointed place and send him on his way alone. He did not tell her that Uncle Joseph, after all his chivalrous kindness to her, had cordially wished women, love affairs, and marriages at the devil, even when perfectly well aware that it was not only Hélène, with her soft hands, who was holding his nephew back and keeping him in Anjou. "You know my father went to Paris, sweet?" said Angelot. "He has come back--he has been here this very night, looking for me. He would have found me at home, if you had not called me across the fields to see you dancing, you know! He saw all the authorities, even the Emperor himself. Nobody knew anything about that arrest of mine, and I think a certain Simon may get into hot water for it--though that is too much to expect, perhaps. Anyhow, they say it was a mistake." "Monsieur des Barres told me so. He said he was sure of it," said the girl. "Hélène--how beautiful you are!" She had laid her hand on his head, and was looking down at him, smiling, though her eyes were wet. He took her hand and held it against his lips. "How I adore you!" he whispered. "Then you are free--free to be happy," she said. "As far as I know--unless that clever father of mine has asked the Emperor for a commission for me--but I think, for my mother's sake, he would not do that. He has not told Uncle Joseph so, at any rate; the dear uncle would not have received an officer of Napoleon's so nicely." Hélène shuddered; the very word "officer" brought Ratoneau to her mind. But she felt safe at least, safe for ever now, from _him_. "I hate soldiers," she said. "Must every one fight and kill?" Her bridegroom was still kneeling at her feet when Monsieur Joseph came back, bringing Henriette with him. The child's dark eyes were full of sleep, her cropped hair stood on end, her small figure was wrapped in her little flannel gown; she looked a strange and pathetic creature, roused out of sleep, brought down to take her part in these realities. But she was equal to the occasion. Riette never failed in the duties of love; she was never called upon in vain. She went round to the back of Hélène's chair, took her face in her two small hands, leaned forward and kissed her forehead under the curls. "Go, mon petit!" she said to Angelot. "I will keep her safe till you are back in the morning." She spoke slowly, sleepily. "Riette is always my friend," said Angelot. "I told you long ago," said the child, "that papa and I would help you to the last drop of our blood."