He rose, and the snow drifted on to his argent epaulettes, his torn lace cravat and his loose hanging hair. He leant against the wagon and put his hand to his side; now that they had the covered form of the dead between them, the hideous loneliness became a hundredfold intensified. Heavy tears forced themselves with difficulty from under Carola’s lids and ran down her wan cheeks, but she made no sound of sobbing. “You are a brave woman,” said the Marquis very gently. “You must not die. Give me your hand.” She shook her head. “Leave me here. Why should you trouble? Go on your way.” She bent her head and then felt his hand on her shoulder, drawing her, very tenderly, to her feet; she resisted her giddiness, which nearly flung her into his arms, and murmured in a firmer voice-- “Very well. We are companions in misfortune and will stay together.” She crossed herself and whispered some prayer over the dead. “It is horrible to leave them,” she added, thinking of the wolves. “He is not there,” answered the Marquis, “but ahead of us on the way already.” He unfastened the lantern from the wagon and, taking it in his left hand, offered the right to the Countess. An extraordinary sweetness had sprung up between them; they felt a great tenderness for each other, a great respect. As they made the first steps on the terrible, difficult route, with the snow-filled blackness before them and their poor light showing only death and horror, the Marquis said to his companion-- “If I could have spared you, Mademoiselle, any of this----” She broke in upon his speech-- “We shall never forget each other all our lives, Monsieur.” Then in silence they followed in the blood-stained track of the army towards Eger. CHAPTER VII THE HOME AT AIX The winter of the year 1742 had been the coldest, in every part of Europe, that had been known since 1709, and the following spring was also remarkable--for heat and sunshine and rainless days and nights. By early April the chestnuts outside the residence of the Clapiers family in Aix were in perfect bloom and the white, golden-hearted flowers sprang from the wide bronze-green leaves and expanded to the summer-like sun; beneath the trees was a deep rich-coloured shade that lay up the double steps of the house and across the high door with its fine moulding of handsome wood. The shutters were closed against the heat; the whole street was empty of everything save the perfume of the lilac, roses, and syringa growing in the gardens of the mansions.