Amélie shook her head. “I’m not afraid of them.” “Then what are you afraid of?” The young girl raised her beautiful eyes, wet with tears, to Roland, and threw herself in his arms, saying: “I don’t know, Roland. But I can’t help it, I am afraid.” The young man raised her head, which she was hiding in his breast, with gentle force, and said, kissing her eyelids softly and tenderly: “You don’t believe I shall have ghosts to fight with to-morrow, do you?” “Oh, brother, don’t go to the Chartreuse!” cried Amélie, eluding the question. “Mother told you to say this to me, didn’t she?” “Oh, no, brother! Mother said nothing to me. It is I who guessed that you intended to go.” “Well, if I want to go,” replied Roland firmly, “you ought to know, Amélie, that I shall go.” “Even if I beseech you on my knees, brother?” cried Amélie in a tone of anguish, slipping down to her brother’s feet; “even if I beseech you on my knees?” “Oh! women! women!” murmured Roland, “inexplicable creatures, whose words are all mystery, whose lips never tell the real secrets of their hearts, who weep, and pray, and tremble--why? God knows, but man, never! I shall go, Amélie, because I have resolved to go; and when once I have taken a resolution no power on earth can make me change it. Now kiss me and don’t be frightened, and I will tell you a secret.” Amélie raised her head, and gazed questioningly, despairingly, at Roland. “I have known for more than a year,” replied the young man, “that I have the misfortune not to be able to die. So reassure yourself, and don’t be afraid.” Roland uttered these words so dolefully that Amélie, who had, until then, kept her emotion under control, left the room sobbing. The young officer, after assuring himself that her door was closed, shut his, murmuring: “We’ll see who will weary first, Fate or I.” CHAPTER XVI. THE GHOST The next evening, at about the same hour, the young officer, after convincing himself that every one in the Château des Noires-Fontaines had gone to bed, opened his door softly, went downstairs holding his breath, reached the vestibule, slid back the bolts of the outer door noiselessly, and turned round to make sure that all was quiet. Reassured by the darkened windows, he boldly opened the iron gate. The hinges had probably been oiled that day, for they turned without grating, and closed as noiselessly as they had opened behind Roland, who walked rapidly in the direction of Pont d’Ain at Bourg.