She did not draw a long breath until she was settled in the train, and the whistle of the engine sounded the shrill note of departure. She felt safe at last--in her foolish blindness--safe! As she closed her eyes, the scene in the studio appeared again. She felt Claude's burning gaze fastened upon her. She felt him approach, and again his arms were around her! She shuddered, and, opening the window, held her burning forehead to the cool night air. Then she returned to the thought of her own safety. She had fled, so she was pure and good. She loved Claude beyond expression; she had wounded him with a knife, and was fleeing from him! So she was still true to herself! She was sincere. We never lie to ourselves. Of course, she loved Claude; but that was not her fault. We are not responsible for our feelings. We are only responsible for our actions. Who could accuse her, if the whole world could read her heart? Who could say, "She is guilty?" She was not guilty, because she had left him. She had struggled and fought against this overwhelming love. She recalled her vain efforts to throw it off. She had earnestly tried to love her husband. It was her misfortune, not her fault, that she could not succeed. She felt proud of her resistance to Claude, and the farther behind her that Paris lay, the more did shame and disgrace seem to recede from her. She thought of the monstrous hippogriff on whose back Ariosto's heroes escaped from their enemies, and the engine seemed just such another monster, bearing her away from Claude. And her sister, who advised her to pray! She smiled with contempt. She did not need a God to keep her from doing wrong. Will and energy are all that we need on earth. Reason, not God, rules the universe. It was reason that showed her the abyss before her, that told her to flee, and that led her to Dijon! Pray? If there were a God, He ought not to have permitted this love to take possession of her heart. He ought to have comforted her and sympathized with her struggles. It was not necessary for her to mumble prayers. When she said, "I will be true," that was all that was needed. The kiss on her neck burnt no longer while she was congratulating herself on her safety and her strength; but it was still there. Odette was completely exhausted when she arrived at Dijon. She went to a hotel, and was asleep in five minutes after being shown to a room. When she awoke, the room was flooded with sunshine. She was ready at ten o'clock to go to her cousin. She had gone over the same road lately, with her husband. How many things had happened since then! The appearance of the country was entirely different, too, with no more snow or ice to be seen. As the carriage passed over the little hills, or wound around among the forest trees, the peacefulness and loveliness seemed to give her weary soul a refreshing rest. Her cousin was completely amazed at her arrival. "What can have brought you here? I can not believe my eyes!"