At another time Harry might have been embarrassed; he was now so tired that he could but accept passively all the motherly cares lavished on him by the comtesse. She brought him food with her own hands, smoothed his hair, begged him vainly to accept a ring as a token of her admiration and gratitude; offered to give him a coat of her late husband’s to replace his own torn garment. Harry stood it all as long as he could; at last, parrying another kiss, he sprang up and declared it was time he set off with his prisoners and the convoy. The prisoners capable of marching numbered eighty-five. The remainder were too badly wounded to be moved. Gathering his escort, he had the stable door unlocked and the prisoners paraded, and sent Sherebiah to marshal the convoy. All was at length ready. It was half-past one when he stood at the door to take leave of Madame de Vaudrey. "Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" she said. "Au revoir!—that is what I mean. You will come and see us again?" "Nothing would delight me more, Madame." "And stay; convey my thanks to Mynheer Grootz for the tulip bulb; you will remember that? and yourself take the thanks of a mother and daughter. Adèle!" she called, "Monsieur Rochestair is departing. Come and bid him farewell." "Adieu, Monsieur!" said Adèle, coming forward. "I add my thanks to Mamma’s for the great service you have done us." "I could have done little, Mademoiselle, without your aid." A flicker of pleasure passed over the girl’s face; then, with a return to her wonted coldness, she said: "You are pleased to flatter, Monsieur. But I see there are still knights-errant in the world. Adieu!" There were tears in Madame de Vaudrey’s eyes as she put her arms up and kissed Harry on the cheek. He bowed over her hand, then sprang on to the horse of one of the captured dragoons, and cantered after the line of wagons and men already moving up the road. As he reached them he had the impulse to turn for a last look at the chateau. The turret was just visible above the tree-tops, and upon it he saw a female figure motionless. "One of the maids hauling down the flag, I suppose," he thought. Then he set his face towards Breda; it was Adèle who stood there watching until he was out of sight. "What a lucky dog I am, Sherry!" he remarked to his sturdy henchman as they rode side by side. "Ay sure, Master Harry, ’tis better to be born lucky nor rich. But speaken for myself, I doan’t zackly see there be much luck about it." "Oh yes! there is. ’Twas merely luck that Mynheer Grootz had to send me this way; mere luck that he had promised Madame de Vaudrey a tulip; mere luck that the French chose that very day to come raiding; mere luck that the place lent itself so easily to a trick——"