"Then you have divined more shrewdly than I thought you would," replied Beatrice. "But I will tell you all that story another time," she added, quitting suddenly a subject on which she evidently wished to speak, but did not know well how to proceed. "What was I saying? Oh! that I feared to have two gay-looking youths seen to enter my house at this hour; but the fact is, Eugenie, I have found that by caution and propriety, and determination in certain things, I have acquired, as it were, a right prescriptive to be as wild, and as daring, and as unhesitating as I like in all others,--but now, my fair friend, let us think of the present moment. You have four good hours to rest yourself ere we set out. In yonder room you will find a bed; and one of my girls shall sit by you, while you lie down to repose, if you are afraid of sleeping in a strange apartment. Yet stay, I must have those delicate shoes of yours; for ere we set out to-morrow, we shall need a pair more conformable to your dress, and must send a model to my own shoemaker, who perhaps may have some that will fit. He is accustomed to my whims; and will not mind being roused out of his bed to serve me. In the meantime, I must change my dress and hasten away; for I am determined to show myself, if but for an hour, at the fete given to-night by old Madame de Gondi, so as to turn away all suspicion from the right direction. I will be back long ere it be time to set out to-morrow." Exhausted with all she had gone through, grief, terror, mental exertion, and corporeal fatigue, Eugenie de Menancourt gladly availed herself of the opportunity of repose. Casting off her upper robe, but without undressing herself farther, she lay down to rest. She did not refuse, however, the attendance of one of Beatrice's women; for danger and terror, instead of losing their effect on her mind by custom, had only rendered her more timid and apprehensive. For more than an hour, agitation prevented Eugenie from sleeping; but towards two o'clock weariness prevailed, and she sunk into profound slumber. It seemed scarcely a moment, however, ere she was roused by some one touching her arm; and she found Beatrice standing beside her, while the grey light that found its way into the room through the open window showed that she had slept longer than she imagined. "It is time for us to depart, Eugenie," said her friend, "and unwillingly I must break your short repose; but I see the market carts coming in; showing both that the gates are open, and that the siege of Paris is not only raised in name but in reality. We must make the best of our time, Eugenie; for in five hours more your absence may be discovered."