The two women were escorted by old Paul back to the watch-fire, where the market-woman awaited them. Paul himself was to remain behind with one other sentinel to deceive the patrol and allay suspicions. Then the two were to hasten after their comrades. * * * * * Dawn was breaking when Edith reëntered the convent. A cry of horror was raised in the refectory over her appearance at such an hour. In the whole nunnery not an eye had been closed that night, so great was the alarm caused by Sister Remigia's return unaccompanied by her companion. The door of the coach had been found open, Edith was not inside, and the sister, awaking from her slumbers, could not account for her disappearance. And what made matters worse, no one dared take any action that should publish the scandalous occurrence abroad. Edith found herself besieged with questions on all sides: where in the world had she been, and what had she been doing all night? "I will give my answer this evening--not before," she declared; and as her unheard-of contumacy yielded to no threats or scolding, chastisement was resorted to. The pious sisters were horrified when they began to undress their obstinate charge and found her clothes all wet and stained with mud. Who could tell where she had been roaming about in the night? But she would answer not a word to their questions. The rod and the scourge were applied with no sparing hand, but neither the one nor the other could make her confess. The brave girl only closed her teeth the more tightly when the shameful blows struck her tender body, and after each stroke she whispered to herself: "Dear Richard!"--repeating the words until at last she fainted under the torture. When she recovered consciousness she found herself in bed, her body half covered with plasters. She was in a high fever, but was able to note the approach of nightfall. She had slept nearly all day. "Now I will tell where I have been," said she to those around her bed. "I went to the camp of the hussars and passed the night in the room of my lover, their captain. Now you may publish it abroad if you choose." At this fearful revelation the prioress threw up her hands in consternation. Naturally she took every precaution to keep the matter secret; for had it been allowed to leak out, the good name of that nunnery would have been ruined. CHAPTER XV. MOTHER AND SON. Jenő had of late made his abode in the Plankenhorst house, having formally installed himself there in the room of the footman, who had gone to join the insurgents at the barricades. Thus the young man was able to be in the house day and night. Extraordinary events produce extraordinary situations. The young man's cup of happiness held but one drop of bitterness,--anxious uncertainty what the morrow might bring forth. Would the cause of the insurgents prevail, or would they be defeated? And what would be his fate and that of the Plankenhorsts, in the latter case?