"If you value the life of your Princess, see that you be silent. Make fast behind us, and open to no one before the morning." He stepped out into the darkness, followed by his ward. He led rapidly across the patio, sword in hand. They felt their way through the blackness of the corridor, and halted at its entrance upon the outer court while Cristoval listened. There was a confusion of men’s voices in the guard-room, but the great court was vacant, and save for the drip and patter of the rain, was silent. Cristoval took her hand, and they hurried toward the garden. Here he drew her from the walk into the shrubbery, picking his way under the low branches of the trees, which showered them with icy drops at every step. They were a few paces from the postern when the heavy report of one of the falconets on the redoubt stopped them with a shock, and startled a faint scream from the girl. The alarm gun! Rava pressed the folds of her cloak over her lips, and Cristoval shook her hand warningly, then hastened on in silence. They reached the postern, and with the utmost caution he set it ajar and looked out. From the direction of the square came the tread of the sentinel, moving away. Cristoval turned to Rava. "Now, we go. Courage!" he whispered, and led her faltering into the street. Sounds came from the square; lights were flitting, horsemen galloping. They hurried across to the nearest corner, turned into the side-street, then again to the right in the direction of the suburbs. "Can you run?" he whispered. "Then we must do so." At every corner he halted, listening. The town was up. Several parties passed on nearby streets, hurrying toward the outskirts. "They will guard the ways," muttered Cristoval. "_Bien_! We shall see!" A door opened—but behind them—and a belated soldier hastened toward the square, buckling as he ran, while the two stood against a wall until he was well away. They pressed on. At a corner they almost ran upon a squad of soldiers just entering the street they were following. But the party was going toward the suburbs, and the fugitives shrank back into the shadow unobserved, starting on again warily when the footfalls had died away. Soon the houses grew meaner, with vacant spaces between, fences of rough wicker enclosing gardens, and here and there a quinuar tree. They were in the purlieus of the town, and presently turned into a lane which wound among the scattered cottages and led off somewhat to the right, less directly toward the fields. Here they left the pavement and travelled with greater difficulty, splashing into puddles and occasionally stumbling into a fence or wall at a turn in the way, but evidently getting into a more and more thinly peopled quarter. It was an obscure thoroughfare, and as Cristoval surmised, not so likely to be guarded, so they went with less caution. Suddenly his feet struck a pavement, and he knew they were on another street. "Halt!"