I stepped towards her with a cry of joy; she retreated with terror written on her face. "What do you want?" she stammered as she retreated. "You have made some mistake. We----" Then I remembered the guise in which I stood, and the gun-barrel in my hand, and I dashed back the cowl from my face; and in a moment--it was of all surprises the most joyous, for I had not seen her since we sat opposite one another in the carriage, and then only a word had passed between us--in a moment she was in my arms, on my breast, and sobbing with her head hidden, and my lips on her hair. "They told me you were dead!" she cried. "They told me you were dead!" Then I understood; and I held her to me, held her to me more and more closely, and said--God knows what I said. And for the moment she let me, and we forgot all else, our danger, the dark future, even the woman who stood by. We had been plighted before, and it had been nothing to us; now, with my lips on hers, and her arms clinging, I knew that it was once for all, and that only death, if death, could part us. Alas! that was not so far from us that we could long ignore it. In a minute or two she freed herself, and thrust me from her, her face pale and red by turns, her eyes soft and shining in the lamplight. "How do you come here, Monsieur?" she cried. "And in that dress?" "To see you," I answered. And at the word, I stepped forward and would have taken her in my arms again. But she waved me back. "Oh, no, no!" she cried, shuddering. "Not now! Do you know that they will kill you? Do you know that they will kill you if they find you here? Go! Go! I beg of you, while you can." "And leave you?" "Yes, and leave me," she answered, with a gesture of despair. "I implore you to do so." "And leave you to Froment?" I cried again. She looked at me in a different way, and with a little start. "You know that?" she said. "Yes," I answered. "Then know this too, Monsieur," she replied, raising her head, and meeting my eyes with the bravest look. "Know this too: that whatever betide, I shall not, after this, marry him, nor any man but you!" I would have fallen on my knees and kissed the hem of her gown for that word, but she drew back, and passionately begged me to begone. "This house is not safe for you," she said. "It is death, it is death, Monsieur! My mother is merciless, my brother is here; and _he_--the house is full of his sworn creatures. You escaped him hardly before; if he finds you here now he will kill you." "But if I need fear him so," I answered grimly,--for I saw, now that she had ceased to blush, how pale and wan she was, and what dark marks fear had painted under her eyes--child's eyes no longer, but a woman's--"if I need fear him so, what of you? What of you, Mademoiselle? Am I to leave you at his mercy?"