"During the five months we have lived in absolute quiet and security here at Hagenhof," Edmé continued, looking out of the window at the forest of pine trees that stretched away from the castle like a sea of ink, "we have been completely shut off from the world outside, hearing almost nothing of the events taking place there." "That was your wish, was it not?" asked Agatha as Edmé paused. Mademoiselle de Rochefort did not make any direct reply, but continued speaking as if she was answering her own thoughts, rather than conversing with her maid. "There was a great battle fought. It was a full month afterward that I heard of it and of the glory won by Colonel Tournay. The Republicans were victorious. Had they been defeated, the restoration of the Monarchy would have been one step nearer. But the allies were defeated, their finest troops were sent flying back before the raw recruits. And I! Did I mourn the defeat of our allies as much as I rejoiced in Colonel Tournay's triumph? _The hero of Landau!_ That is what he was called." Then, turning toward Agatha, she exclaimed: "How do you think they have rewarded him in France? They have thrown this hero into prison. They have kept him there for months. And I heard of it only to-night from the officers who returned with Colonel von Waldenmeer yesterday. They spoke of affairs in France. They said that the Republic is approaching its final doom. The leaders are now at discord. The terrible Danton has been sent to the guillotine. They said that the officers of the army are being suspected; mentioned Colonel Tournay's arrest, and then casually passed on to other topics. I heard no more. I could not listen after that, and came up here as soon as I could withdraw from the table. Agatha, I am going back to France." "Why are you going?" asked Agatha gently, fearing to antagonize her mistress in her present mood. Again Edmé looked out of the window at the swaying tops of the mournful pines. "I cannot stay here," she answered fiercely. "The melancholy of the place is killing me." "Do not be a child, mademoiselle," said Agatha in the tone of authority she sometimes employed in reasoning with her beloved mistress. "If you are not happy here, we will leave. Perhaps we can go to Berlin, or to London. But never to France!" "Twice has he risked his life for me," said Edmé, again speaking to herself. "I owe so much to him, and have repaid him nothing." "All that is true," persisted the cool-headed Agatha. "He aided you because he had the power; if you could serve him, it would be different. But you can do nothing. If you go to Paris, you will be arrested and guillotined. That is all. No, my dear mistress, you must not go." "I shall go," answered Edmé firmly. "If I am apprehended, so much the worse." "You will only place yourself in peril," cried Agatha. "You must not go!"