She sat beside me and leaned her chin upon her hand as she gazed down into the valley. The sun was sinking to the west and the road seemed the merest yellow ribbon between its green hedges. Far ahead I could see that the country again became more broken, and a low range of purple hills closed in the horizon. As we sat there silent, a cloud of dust appeared far down the road, and we moved deeper into the cover of the bushes, fearing that it was another regiment approaching. But it was only a flock of sheep, driven by three shepherds. “Food for the enemy,” I remarked. “That explains why there are no longer any flocks in these pastures. The Republic has swallowed them, as it has swallowed so many other things.” We watched them until they passed from sight on the horizon behind a cloud of dust which rose and rose until it covered the sun’s face. “Yonder behind that cloud lies Thouars,” I said. “And a league beyond is Coulonges--and our friends,” she added. “Always thinking of that!” I rejoined bitterly. “Yes--of safety and home. How I shall delight to be there again!” “Home! And I do not even know where that is! Why is it, mademoiselle, that you have told me nothing of yourself? Do you mistrust me?” “Mistrust you?” she repeated. “What an absurd question! But there is so little to tell.” “And you refuse to tell me even that? I know nothing of you except your name. How am I to find you again, if fate is indeed kind to me? Where am I to look for you?” “A perfect lover would have trusted his heart to lead him,” she retorted. “But since you do not, you may as well know that the Château de Chambray is two leagues south of Poitiers.” “Then,” I said, “I shall not have far to go if--if--pray heaven it may be my fortune to seek you there.” I could see by her sparkling eyes that the spirit of mischief had sprung to life again. “We shall be very glad to welcome you, my father and I,” she said, without permitting me to finish. “Perhaps we can even persuade you to bring your betrothed with you. Why not spend your honeymoon at Chambray, monsieur?” “I should like to spend it there,” I retorted, “but with another woman.” It was her turn to redden, and she did so in good earnest. “Do you think fortune will favor me that far?” I persisted. Then she armed herself and struck me a savage blow. “No,” she answered quickly; “I think fortune will hold you to your promise and that you will soon forget to rail at her. Your heart is exceedingly inflammable and will burn none the less ardently, whether it be I or your betrothed who applies the spark.” “If that is your opinion,” I returned bitterly, “there is nothing more to be said.” “And I am quite certain,” she added, smiling strangely, “that you will one day accept that invitation. My father will insist upon it.” “Let him!” I retorted. “Are you hungry?” “No.” “Nor I. This hamper, then, we will leave here, as we shall reach Coulanges to-night. It is time we were setting off.”