"If you watch, Charles," replied Marie, "I will watch with you, for I need not repose. This morning, after closing the eyes of poor Madame de Saulny, and weeping long and bitterly over her and the poor girl who was the only one that chose to remain with me, exhausted with watching, anxiety, and grief, I fell asleep, and slept long. Before that, I had felt so weary and so heated, that I almost fancied--though without fearing it--that the plague might be coming upon me; but I woke refreshed and comforted just as the sun was going down, and I felt, as it were, a hope and expectation that some change would soon come over my fate. But you need at least refreshment, Charles. In the next room remains my last untasted meal--the last that the poor frightened beings who abandoned me, set before their mistress yesterday. I fear not to take you there, Charles, for no one has died in this part of the house." Charles of Montsoreau followed her, and persuaded her also to take some light refreshment; and there they sat through the live-long night, speaking kind words from time to time, and watching each other's countenances with hope strong at the hearts of both, though somewhat chequered by fears, each for the other. CHAP. VIII. By the time that the first grey streak chequered the dark expanse of the eastern sky, the horses of Charles of Montsoreau, with three others, were standing on the terrace at the foot of the marble steps. The page and Gondrin were there, and also the old groom, a white-headed man of some sixty years of age, who had booted and spurred himself, and buckled on a sword, declaring that he would accompany his young mistress, if it were but to lead the sumpter horse which carried her baggage. A moment after, Marie herself appeared, and Charles of Montsoreau placed her on the beast that had been prepared for her, while the old groom kissed her hand, saying, "I am glad to see you well, dear lady. But fear not; none of your race and none of mine ever died of the plague either, though I have seen it pass by this place twice before now, and I remember eleven corpses lying on those steps at once." "There are six within those chambers now," replied Marie, shaking her head mournfully. "But I fear not, good Robin,--for myself at least. But you had better lead the way towards Chalet, for the Count tells me that Morvillette is deserted." "Oh, I will lead you safely, Lady," replied the old man; "and though very likely they may keep us out of many a house on account of where we come from, there is my daughter's cottage where they will take us in, for they do not fear the plague there."