Again the flush of resentment rose to Tournay's cheek, but as he looked down upon the German general who in perfect good faith and seriousness made him such a proposal, and as he realized the utter impossibility of either of them ever seeing the subject in the same light, his look of anger changed to one of amusement, and a grim smile twitched at the corners of his mustache. "I appreciate the honor you would do me, General von Waldenmeer, but I prefer to pay the penalty of my folly and remain loyal to the French Republic." The general took up his papers again. "Very well," he said gruffly. "I will provide you with an escort over the frontier. It will be ready to start within the hour." His eyebrows came down and he became deeply immersed in the study of the map. Tournay stood for a few moments looking at the fat forefinger of the old soldier as it traced its way over the surface of the map. His thoughts were of Mademoiselle de Rochefort. He wondered whether she had set out on her way to Hagenhof. He almost hoped that she had left and that he would be spared the pain of parting from her. Yet if she were still at Falzenberg he knew he never could force himself to leave and not make an attempt to bid her good-by. It was with these conflicting emotions, mingled with a reluctance to mention her name to the gruff old general, that he said in a low voice:-- "Has Mademoiselle de Rochefort started on her journey to Hagenhof?" He received no answer. There had been a slight tremor in his voice as he spoke Edmé's name. Hesitating for a moment, he stepped to the table and placing one hand on it he asked again in a steady tone, "When does Mademoiselle de Rochefort go to Hagenhof?" The one word "To-morrow" came abruptly out of the large head buried in the papers before him. Tournay drew a sigh of relief. If she had gone away, leaving him no word, he would have been the most miserable of men. Without further words with the general he turned and left the room. As he went along the hallway be heard the rustle of a woman's gown behind him, and turning, saw to his great satisfaction the figure of Agatha hurrying toward him. "Agatha," he exclaimed, as she came up to him, "where is mademoiselle? Can I see her?" "Mademoiselle is in Frau Krieger's apartment at the further end of the east wing. If you will come with me I will show you where it is. It is fortunate that I have met you as I do, else it would have been difficult to find you in this large place." "Then you were sent to fetch me?" inquired Tournay eagerly. "I did not say that," replied Agatha with a quiet smile. "But you evidently were in search of me," persisted Tournay. "I have no time to answer questions now," she replied, with a laugh. "Here is the room," and she ushered him into a long old-fashioned salon, whose uncomfortable pieces of furniture looked as if they had stood for generations staring at their own ugly reflections in the polished surface of the floor.