"Hush!--some one is in the walk," said Bertha, with uneasiness. "What a child you are!--it is the wind that moves the trees. See how the hail and rain are falling, and you have come out without your African cloak; that is a double error, for that _burnous_ with a hood becomes you excessively." "I left it in the vestibule; but I beseech you to return to the château." "It is too far--the rain is falling--why should we not enter the châlet, there, and wait until this shower has passed over?" "No!--no!" "Do you forget your promise to shew me your pavilion--your favourite retreat? Oh! I will not let slip this excellent opportunity of making you fulfil your promise. See, the rain falls heavier!--come, I pray of you! But what ails you?--you scarcely speak to me!--you tremble--it is with cold, no doubt! How could you be so imprudent?" "I cannot tell you what I feel, but it is a vague, involuntary terror. I beseech you let us return to the château, in spite of the rain." "This is childish folly to which I cannot consent. You are unwell, and really must not expose yourself further. The rain is as cold as ice--the châlet is but a few steps from us." "Well, then, promise me to depart to-morrow." "What! again?" "Yes--do not ask me wherefore. I am alarmed for you--for myself, and I shall not be at ease until you are far from here. I cannot explain my fears even to myself, but they try me bitterly." "Really, admitting that your husband were jealous, what have you to fear?--what wrong are we doing? Besides, he is most attentive to you, and suspects nothing." "It is those attentions, so new to me, and his hypocritical mildness, which alarms me. He, always so coarse, so rude; and one day----" Bertha started, and exclaimed, whilst she placed her trembling hand on Arnold's arm, "Again! I am certain some one is moving in the clump!--they are following us." [Illustration 18: "Arnold hastened--the foliage shook, and, a few yards from them a kid bounded by."] Arnold listened, and then heard some branches crackle in the thick bushes of box and holly. In spite of a difficulty of penetrating this solid hedge, Arnold was about to plunge into it, when the noise increased, the foliage shook, and, a few yards from them, a kid bounded forth and crossed their path. Arnold could not repress a burst of laughter, and said to Bertha,-- "This was your spy!" The young lady, somewhat reassured, took Arnold's arm, and they were now only a few paces from the châlet. "Well, poor little trembler!" said Arnold. "I beseech you not to laugh at me--I am a believer in presentiments--God sends them to us."