Had I been able to reason out at leisure what course a person ought to pursue in such a situation, I feel sure that my answer to the above question would have been: Take care of your own safety, keep out of the men's clutches the best way you can, and do not bother yourself about any one else. But when the situation actually occurred, I acted on the impulse of the moment, because there was no time to think the matter over carefully, and take counsel with reason. And the consequence of being in such a hurry was, that I did not behave with that prudent regard to my own interests which was generally characteristic of me. I was frightened I must candidly confess, and I desired ardently to be anywhere in security, and to avoid meeting either Napoleon or César. Yet, strange to say, I was influenced at that moment by something else than care for myself. My predominant anxiety--the one object on which my mind was fixed--was, to get to Kitty as quickly as possible, to warn her of the danger, to stand by her, to try to save her. It was certainly very unlike me to have felt like that, and I do not know what occasioned so extraordinary a departure from my usual sentiments. However, there the feeling was, and "_c'était plus fort que moi_." Consequently, I only waited where I was till the men were far enough off for me to leave my hiding-place without danger of being discovered, and then instantly set out to rejoin her. Taking the utmost pains to move quietly, lest the shaking of the bushes should betray my presence, I crept through the _maquis_. Meanwhile I mentally reviewed the situation, and considered how we could extricate ourselves from it.