The Count got in without any further hesitation; and the exempts then addressed the driver who was sitting motionless on his box. "Come down, scamp," he said in a tone of authority; "I require the use of this coach for an affair of state. Give up your place to one of my men. Wideawake," he added, turning to a tall impudent looking fellow standing by his side, "get up on the box in that man's place--let us be off." The driver did not attempt to resist this peremptory order; he descended and his place was immediately taken by Wideawake; the exempt then entered the carriage, seated himself facing his prisoner, closed the door, and the steeds, aroused by a vigorous, lash, dashed forward dragging after them the heavy vehicle round which the twenty odd soldiers were collected. For a considerable period the coach rolled along without a word being exchanged between the prisoner and his guard. The Count was thinking, the exempt sleeping, or, to speak more correctly, pretending to sleep. In the month of March the nights are beginning to shorten; daylight soon appeared, and broad white stripes were beginning to cross the sky. The Count, who up to this moment had remained motionless, gave a slight start. "Are you suffering, my lord?" the exempt inquired. This question was addressed to him with an intonation so different from that hitherto employed by the man who had made him prisoner; there was in the sound of his voice an accent so really gentle and sympathizing, that the Count involuntarily started, and took a fixed look at his singular companion: but so far as he could see by the faint light of coming dawn, the man in front of him still had the same crafty face and the same ironical smile stereotyped on his lips. The Count found himself in error, and throwing himself back, merely uttered one word, "No," in a tone intended to break off any attempt at conversation between his guardian and himself. But the former was probably in a humour for talking, for he would not be checked; and pretending not to remark the manner in which his advances had been received, he continued-- "The nights are still chill, the breeze enters this coach on all sides, and I feared lest the cold had struck you." "I am habituated to suffer heat and cold," the Count answered; "besides, it is probable that if I have not yet made my apprenticeship, I am about to undergo one which will accustom me to endure everything without complaining." "Who knows, my lord?" the exempt said, with a shake of the head. "What?" the other objected, "Am I not condemned to a lengthened captivity in a fortress?" "Yes, according to the terms of the order, which it is my duty to carry out." There was a momentary silence. The Count gazed absently at the country which the first beams of day were beginning to illumine. At length he turned to the exempt. "May I ask whither you are taking me?" he said. "I see no objection to your doing so." "And you will answer my question?"