Standing by her head, stroking her soft muzzle, whispering to her, he contrived, however, to soothe the creature so that, at least, she did not neigh, while, staying by her till at last the storm had rolled away, he contrived to reduce her to calmness--such calmness, indeed, that at last he felt her neck drooping over the manger and knew that she was feeding. "But still I will not leave her," he reflected. "Who can tell but that another storm may follow swift upon the one now gone; also, if by any chance I have been tracked from the 'Gouden Leeuw,' if it is known that I am here, what would an enemy's first act be? To prevent my further progress! To injure the one thing that can carry me to safety, that can alone enable me to assist Sylvia and the Comtesse." Whereupon, since the precautions that he, with every soldier, had long learnt to take as regards his charger were well remembered, he lay down now upon the straw in the next stall--so that he might be well out of the reach of La Rose's heels should she become again excited--and prepared to pass the night there, knowing that his voice would be sufficient to soothe her. In spite, however, of the fact that the mare was now quite tranquil, except that once he heard her hoofs stamping in the straw and once observed that she was drinking from her bucket, he could not sleep, his thoughts being much occupied with two out of many things. The principal of which things was that, by the blessing of heaven, it might be granted to him to lead this girl in safety back to their own land; another the love that had sprung into his heart for her; while still there was a further thought, a thought that was truly a fear--the fear that, much as he had now come to love Sylvia, there might be no respondent love in her heart for him. "Gratitude, yes!" he said to himself. "That is already there; also, it may be, a tender hope, a gentle dread for me and of my successful issue out of the conditions I have surrounded myself with. But--love? Ah! how shall I know? Her calmness, her dignity will give no sign that will help me on my way to the knowledge I desire; while, when the time comes for me to speak, what will her answer be? 'Tis well that that time is not yet, not now, since were it so my fears of failure would so much unnerve me that I should also fail in all else I have to do." One other thought arose, however, in his mind and set him wondering at a subtle change that had taken possession of him--a change caused by a great desire that now triumphed over what he could not but deem at this time a lesser one. He recognised that, strong as had been his hopes that his present undertaking should lead him back to the calling from which he had been wrongfully cast out, those hopes were now but secondary, even if as near as secondary, to a greater, a more supreme one--the hope that he would win the love of Sylvia Thorne, win her for his wife.