“Be brave!” she whispered brokenly. “Be brave, my friend! The future will be brighter than you think. Oh, you are worthy to occupy that temple! Oh, I must----” A sudden rattle of arms and tramp of feet rose to us from the valley. “What is that?” she asked with bated breath. I sprang to my feet, went cautiously to the edge of the thicket and looked down. A regiment was marching westward along the road by which we had come--a regiment dusty and travel-stained, with tri-colored cockades in their hats and tri-colored scarfs about their necks. I watched them until they disappeared around a turn of the road. Then I rejoined my comrade. “It was a regiment of Blues,” I said; “that is bad. I had hoped to take that road. Now we must take the other; but we must keep to the cover of this thicket until we are past the village. We would better be starting now while there is light; then at dusk we can descend to the road and hasten on to Coulonges.” She was replacing the food in the hamper before I had finished. “We may need it,” she said; “you shall not risk yourself again.” She was entirely self-controlled and turned to me the old, clear, friendly gaze; the emotion which had shaken her a moment before had been conquered and swept aside. What was it she had been about to say? Should I ever know? Should I ever again get past the barrier of her reserve? I watched her as she slipped my shoes over her own again and fastened them. Then I took up the hamper and started. At the edge of the little glade she paused and threw a kiss back to it. “Good-by,” she called. “Good-by. You also have kept us safely. I shall always remember!” I dared not look back. I felt that I was forever leaving a spot more dear and sacred than home itself. So I strode blindly on, hurling myself savagely at the underbrush, until the very fury of my exertions served to exhaust the fire which raged within. “Am I going too fast?” I asked, pausing and turning to her, for her footsteps told me that she was close at my heels. “No,” she said, “but you must be tiring yourself terribly, and to little useful purpose.” “It was the brute fighting itself out,” I explained; “exhausting itself by bruising and trampling down those poor little saplings.” “And is it quite exhausted?” “I trust so. Do you never have an impulse to destroy things--to rend them apart and shatter them to bits?” “Sometimes,” she admitted, laughing. “It’s like a thunderstorm, isn’t it--all fire and fury while it lasts, but leaving one cleansed and purified. Oh, I am far from perfect,” she added, laughing again as she caught my glance, “as you would have seen for yourself long ere this had you been of an observing turn. Is this as far as we go through this thicket?” “No,” I answered, checking the words which rose to my lips; and I set off again, nor paused until the village had sunk from sight behind us. “Now we can rest,” I said, and sat down at the edge of the bushes.