"Must you go?" "Yes; it is important that my father should know this news. He is at a meeting to-night at the château de Montaigu. I must get back to Souday. I commit my poor patient to you. Leave exact directions, and I or my sister, unless something unforeseen prevents, will be here to-morrow and watch at night." "Will you take my carriage? I can get back on foot, and you can return it by Jean Oullier, or any one, to-morrow." "Thank you, no; I don't know where Jean Oullier may be to-morrow. Besides, I prefer walking; the air will do me good." Bertha held out her hand to the doctor, pressed his with almost masculine strength, threw her mantle over her shoulders, and left the cottage. At the door she found Michel, who, although he could not hear the conversation, had kept his eye on the young girl, and, seeing that she was about to depart, got to the door before her. "Ah! mademoiselle," he exclaimed, "what has happened? What have you just heard?" "Nothing," said Bertha. "Nothing! If you had heard nothing you would not be starting off in such a hurry, without a word to me,--without so much as signing to me, or saying good-bye." "Why should I say good-bye, inasmuch as you are going with me? When we reach the gate of Souday will be time enough to bid you good-bye." "What! will you allow me?" "To accompany me? Certainly. After all you have done for me this evening, it is your right, my dear Monsieur Michel,--that is, unless you are too fatigued." "I, mademoiselle, too fatigued, when it is a matter of accompanying you! With you, or with Mademoiselle Mary, I would go to the end of the world. Fatigued? Heavens, no!" Bertha smiled, murmuring to herself, "What a pity he is not one of us!" Then she added under her breath, "One could do as one pleased with a nature like his." "Are you speaking?" said Michel. "I did not quite catch what you say." "I spoke very low." "Why do you speak low?" "Because what I was saying cannot be said out loud,--not yet, at least." "But later?" "Ah! later, perhaps--" The young man in turn moved his lips, and made no sound. "What does that pantomime mean?" asked Bertha. "It means that I can speak below my breath as you do, with this difference, that what I say low I am ready to say out loud and instantly,--at this very moment if I dared--" "I am not a woman like other women," said Bertha, with an almost disdainful smile; "and what is said to me in a low voice may equally well be said aloud." "Well then, what I was saying below my breath was this; I grieve to see you flinging yourself into danger,--danger as certain as it is useless." "What danger are you talking about, my dear neighbor?" said the girl, in a slightly mocking tone. "That about which you were speaking to Doctor Roger just now. An uprising is to take place in La Vendée." "Really?" "You will not deny that, I think." "I?--why should I deny it?" "Your father and you are taking part in it." "You forget my sister," said Bertha, laughing.