“And the moon will be full to-night,” I concluded. “The more reason I should refuse you,” she retorted. “It will be a dangerous place. Though I am amply able to take care of myself,” she added. “I do not doubt it, mademoiselle,” I agreed humbly, “especially with me. That has already been proved, has it not?” “Yes,” she said, with a queer little smile; “yes, I think it has.” “Believe me, it is not a ruse,” I added earnestly, “even were I capable of a ruse, which I am not. God knows I should like to walk with you there, but not to tell you what I shall to-night have to tell you.” She looked at me again with a strange mixture of timidity and daring. “Very well, M. de Tavernay,” she said at last. “In the garden then--provided, of course, that madame consents.” “Thank you,” I said, my heart warm with gratitude. “Shall I ask her?” “No; I will attend to that;” and she smiled a little as she glanced across the board. “But I know that it is not discreet; I am falling a victim to my curiosity. You have piqued it most successfully. Although I can never solve a riddle for myself, I cannot rest until I know the solution. I hope your riddle will be worth the risk.” “It will,” I assured her; and fell silent, nerving myself for the task which lay before me. “But will you hear what this tyrant is saying?” cried madame--“that I must leave the château to dwell amid the fogs of England----” “Or beneath the blue skies of Italy,” said M. le Comte. “Really, madame, I fear the château is no longer safe for you. The Revolution is looking this way--and not with friendly eyes.” “Does the Revolution, then, make war on women?” “Have you forgotten Mlle. de Lamballe?” Madame went white at the retort, almost brutal in its brevity. “But that was the _canaille_ of Paris,” she protested. “There are no such monsters here in Poitou.” “Ah, my dear,” said her husband, sadly, “I fear there are monsters of the same sort wherever there are suffering and degraded men and women. And since it is us they blame for their suffering and degradation, it is upon us they try to avenge themselves. Besides, since the Republicans are trying to entrap me, they will doubtless end by coming here; and not finding me, they may throw you into prison as the surest way of causing me to suffer.” “We have the tower!” cried madame. “We will defend ourselves!” “The tower was not built to withstand artillery,” her husband pointed out; “and even if the Republicans have no cannon they need only camp about it and bide their time to starve you into surrender, since you could expect no aid from any quarter.” “But to leave the château--to abandon it to pillage--oh, I could never endure it!” “Better that than to lose it and our lives together. Yes, decidedly, you must set out to-morrow----” “To-morrow!” echoed madame, in despairing tones. “M. de Tavernay will accompany you as far as Poitiers. At Poitiers, Mlle. de Chambray----”