Not a moment too soon; for as we paused to look back before starting downward, we saw a score of torches advancing up the valley toward the spot which we had left. Evidently there was to be no chance of failure this time. “Come,” I said, and caught her hand. The slope was free from underbrush and fairly smooth. “A race!” she cried, her eyes dancing; and a moment later we arrived breathless at the bottom. Here there was a wall of stone. We rested a moment on top of it, then I helped her down into the narrow, rutted road beyond. It ran, as nearly as I could judge, east and west, and turning our faces westward, we hurried along it, anxious to put all chance of capture far behind. The night was sweet and clear and my heart sang with the very joy of living. I felt strong, vigorous, ready to face any emergency. My recent encounter had left no souvenir more serious than a tender throat, and as I thought of it I wondered again at the resolution which had nerved that soft and delicate arm to drive the blade home in the back of my assailant. She, too, had proved herself able to meet a crisis bravely, and to rise to whatever heroism it demanded. Ah, if she only loved me! I might yet find some way to evade with honor the unwelcome match my father had arranged for me. But she did not; so there was an end of that. I must go on to the end, even as I had promised. But it was a bitter thing! “Why that profound sigh, M. de Tavernay?” asked my comrade, looking up at me with dancing eyes, quite in her old manner. “Surely we are in no present danger?” “I was thinking not of the present but of the future,” I answered. “You think, then, that danger lies before us?” “Undoubtedly!” “But why cross the bridge till we come to it?” “Because,” I answered, “since the bridge must be crossed it is as well to do it now as any time.” “But perhaps it may be avoided--one can never tell.” “No,” I said gloomily, “it is a destiny not to be escaped.” “You frighten me!” she cried; but when I glanced at her she looked anything but frightened. “What is it that awaits us? Let me know the worst!” “It was of myself I was speaking,” I explained. “Another instance of your selfishness! Are you going to face the enemy and bid me run away? Depend upon it, I shall think twice before obeying.” “This is an enemy which you will never be called upon to face, mademoiselle. I was thinking of that moment,--a moment not far distant,--when I have placed you in the hands of your friends and must bid you adieu.” “To turn your face southward toward Poitiers? Inconstant man! I did not think you so eager!” “No, mademoiselle; I turn back to Dange, as you know, on an errand of vengeance, and then----” “To Poitiers on an errand of love. To the hero his reward!” “Say rather on an errand of duty,” I corrected. “It will become an errand of love also, once you have seen the lady--what is her name?” “No matter,” I said shortly, and strode on in silence.