darkness of the night, that she breathed at ease, free from the constant expectation of seeing the Marquis of St. Real gallop up to the side of the carriage, and recognise her under her disguise. At the little village of St. Ouen all the world was sound asleep; and manifold were the strokes of sword hilts upon the door of the _auberge_, many the shouts up to the unlistening windows, before the inmates could be roused to comprehend that there were strangers on the road demanding admission. At length, the hostess, half dressed, and scarcely half awake, came scolding down the stairs, extremely angry that anyone should travel at such unseemly hours; and on her steps soon followed her husband, a big burly Norman, but shrewd withal, and sufficiently sensible of his own interests to smother all expression of annoyance, and give his guests the best welcome that he could. Early the next morning, the carriage was again in motion, but not before some of the light troops of the matutinal monarch of France were upon the road, and Eugenie was more than once alarmed by their gazing boldly into the vehicle when the curtains were undrawn, and by talking to the driver and the servants when the carriage was closed. These parties, however, as they marched but slowly, and the carriage went fast, were soon passed, and the rest of the journey proceeded as peaceably as any journey could do in those disturbed and unhappy days. Beatrice of Ferrara, after the experiment at Heudbouville, did not suffer herself again to be drawn from the route which she had laid out at first for her fair friend, but advanced as rapidly as possible towards the sea-side, seeing security only in the hope of Henry's army still interposing between them and the League, and thus preventing all search for Eugenie de Menancourt in the direction which she had really followed. "At all events, dear Eugenie," she said, as they approached Dieppe, "here, upon the sea-coast, you will always have an opportunity of escape to England, should need be; and I will take care that our friend King Henry shall furnish you with such letters to the queen of those bold islanders, as to ensure you protection and assistance. For my part, you know, Eugenie, after a week or fortnight's rest, I must leave you, if you can do without me. My destiny, dear girl, has to be fulfilled, and I must back to Paris by a different road, both to hide my having aught to do with your successful flight, and to watch the progress of all on which my ultimate fate depends." "Would to Heaven," said Eugenie de Menancourt, "that I could have such a happy and saving influence on your fate, Beatrice, as you have had on mine! But I am destined only to be a burden to you, and to rely upon you for everything, without knowing or comprehending the past or the present, as far as it regards you, without understanding your means, your wishes, or your purposes."