The remembrance flashed through her mind, how, years before, she had once noticed Tournay's manly bearing as he rode into the château-court upon a spirited horse. She had at that time thought him handsome, with an air about him superior to his station, and then had dismissed him from her thoughts. As he rode before her now, the water still dripping from his clothing, hatless, with damp locks clinging to his forehead, she thought she had never looked upon a nobler figure among all the gentlemen who in the old days frequented the château of the baron, her father. "Where are we going?" she asked, with more emotion than such a simple question warranted. "To the German frontier," was the reply. "We must travel rapidly night and day. I shall hardly dare to stop for rest until you are safely over the border." "I leave myself in your charge," she said, leaning back in the carriage. He gave a word of command and the coach rushed forward through the night. Tournay's words had recalled vividly to Edmé her unhappy situation. Although innocent of all crime, she was proscribed and forced to fly from her own country to take refuge among those who were invading it. And the man who rode by the side of her carriage, and had undertaken to convey her in safety across the border, was a soldier, fighting for the government that persecuted her. Laying her head upon Agatha's shoulder she felt her heart swell with bitterness. For hours, during which Agatha imagined that she slept, she watched in silence through the window the dark outlines of the swiftly moving landscape. Finally long after Agatha's regular breathing announced her slumber, Edmé, worn out by the excitement and fatigue, leaned back in the opposite corner and slept like a tired child. For five days the coach rolled toward the frontier, Tournay and Gaillard riding on horseback. Through Blois, Orleans, Arcis sur-Aube to Bar-le-Duc and on toward Metz they went, stopping only to exchange their worn-out horses for fresh ones, and for such few hours of rest as were absolutely indispensable. During all the journey, Tournay saw little of Mademoiselle de Rochefort, although her comfort and her safety were his constant care. The passport with which he was provided prevented all delay; and it was thought best that mademoiselle should remain as secluded in the carriage as possible. When she did step out for a breath of air or a few hours' rest at some inn she always wore a veil to hide her features. Whenever he approached her to inform her as to the route they traveled he always did so with the greatest deference, showing marked solicitude for her health and comfort; expressing deep regret that the nature of their journey rendered the great speed imperative. One afternoon as they crossed the little stream of the Sarre, Tournay, who had been riding some fifty yards in advance, drew rein and waited for the carriage to come up to him.