I took her hand in mine, caressing it as that of a child, and strove to explain, but she would not listen. "Say you will; do not refuse!" she repeated; and, feeling like a hangman, I blurted out that it was impossible. And then she snatched her hand from my grasp, and stood a moment, her face half averted from me. There was an awkward silence, and collecting myself I again pointed out the danger she was in, and that in Paris alone could there be safety for her. I might have spoken to stone walls; but at my words she turned, and there were angry lights in the brown eyes, and her lips were tightly set. "I shall not trespass further on your good nature, monsieur. I feel you have cancelled the debt I owed you, and henceforth you will understand that I look upon you as my gaoler and nothing more." I bowed, and she continued: "And further, I do not desire to have speech with you. I travel as your prisoner; and"--with a truly feminine outburst--"I shall escape--there are friends who will see to that." I was so full of wrath at the manner in which I had been treated that I was about to answer back hotly that, friend or no friend, she would ride into Paris by my side; but I restrained myself with an effort, and with another look of anger at me mademoiselle turned, and began to ascend the stairway. I watched her as she went up, with head erect and shining eyes, and stood where I was for some little time utterly dejected and cast down. Even if I had a shadow of a chance it was gone by this. I felt like one who was condemned to execute himself. After a little I moved towards the supper-table, and sitting down there stared aimlessly before me. My eyes fell on the little heap of plucked rose leaves that had been left on the table, and I began, at first half unconsciously, to try and read the meaning of the signal, for such it was I was sure. In the light of her last words, the sting of which still remained with me, I was certain that she had not played with the rose petals idly. I began to go back. She had told Montluc she would escape at the first chance. She had made the attempt this very day, but had apparently accepted defeat. Shortly after coming to the inn there had been a decided change in her manner. Then she had grown friendly again, and finding this fail her had broken out into open defiance. I put all this with the little incident of the window, and her open statement, made in heat, that she had friends who would help her to escape--an escape that would lead her into the jaws of the wolf, if she would but understand. Nevertheless, I could make nothing of it, and so for the present gave up guessing, determining to do all I could to protect her, and to leave the rest in the hands of Fate. The landlord coming in at this moment I requested him to send Pierrebon to me, and to show me the way to my chamber. Taking up one of the candles from the table he led me across the room, and along a narrow passage,