Beyond the window there was only cold wintry starshine and little enough of that; but Rodvard had hoped for snow or rain. Lalette gathered her smallest of bundles; he led along the balcony three windows down, to where the trellis was, and stepped off backward into night, resting a moment on each step before taking the next. Lalette’s dresses almost made her stumble on the last steps; she sank into his arms with a little gasp at the bottom. They had carefully worked out the matter of getting over the garden-wall, from the barrel to the shed-roof, the shed-roof to the wall itself. It was too late for the bracket-torch on the back street to have remained alight. As soon as she was down, they dodged shivering past the plane-trees, across, around a corner and into the appointed alley. Something jingled; the man said; “Are you the travellers?” “Dame Domijaiek’s travellers,” said Rodvard, as agreed, and; “Here is your horse and your let-pass,” the other. Rodvard got up first; the man, whose features remained indistinguishable, helped Lalette up behind and gave them a farewell in tones not unfriendly. Rodvard had seldom followed the maze of streets toward the northwest quarter, but it was fairly easy to maintain direction, and there was only one gate leading to the Archer’s Highroad. The horse walked, and Lalette felt so sleepy that it was almost agony to keep her place. There was no one moving on any street and hardly a light at any window. Once a wrong turn led into a blind alley, but that did not hold them back long, and now they were in the shadow of the gate, with a sentry barring the path with a pike and another holding up a lantern. “This is a fine hour to be leaving the city,” grumbled the first. “All hours are fine when one must go,” said Rodvard, and produced his paper; this was the moment of test. The sentry puzzled over it a moment, looked back at them, to the paper again, and said; “Pass friends.” As he turned back to the sentry-cachet with his pike-bearing companion, Rodvard caught a fragment of words “. . . won’t be too glad to see that couple,” and wondered what the paper had said. As they reached the far end of the bridge, where the ancient stone leopard stands, he urged his mount to trot, but the pace was too fast for Lalette, she had to beg him not to. They moved for a long time through a space without figures until, like a conjurer’s trick, trees and houses began to appear in grey outline around them, and then slowly to take on color. The road turned leftward, and the river was beyond, with ice on it. Lalette said; “Rodvard.” He did not turn his head. “What will you have?” “Can you forgive me?” “For what?” “Taking you away from—everything. Your new day, the work.” “There is nothing to forgive. I had to go.”