"You misunderstand me," she said. "The danger may be small, but the existence is unbearable. I do most earnestly wish to go, to attempt to reach England; yet I know. I feel--it is borne in on me--that if I attempt to do so, to reach the allied forces or the coast in your company, I shall bring harm to you; and--and--oh!" she said, "I could not endure that. But by yourself alone you may pass safely. Oh, go, go, go!" "It is impossible. No more can I pass out alone than with you and the Comtesse." "What is to be done?" Sylvia almost wailed. "We can stay here. Here, where I am in no danger----" "Not from Francbois!" she exclaimed, recalling again to her mind that which Bevill had undoubtedly not dreamt of--the fear that Francbois deemed him his rival and would stop at nothing to remove him from his path. "Not here," she went on, "where any stranger who enters the 'Gouden Leeuw' may chance to recognise you." "It is improbable; yet, even so, I can leave that hostel." "But where can you go? Here you would be welcome in the garb of one who was of much assistance to Madame de Valorme, as one who is my friend, my would-be protector; yet--there is Francbois to contend with. While, if you choose another inn, the danger would be as great as at the 'Gouden Leeuw.'" As Sylvia uttered these words she saw by Bevill's face that some fresh idea had sprung to his mind, that he was thinking deeply. "What is it?" she asked. "What?" For a moment he did not reply, but sat with his eyes fixed on hers, then suddenly he asked: "You have said that I can escape alone; and I know, I feel as sure as you yourself, that together we cannot escape. But what if----" "Yes, yes," she whispered, stirred to excitement at his words. "What if I should go alone, and you and the Comtesse go together, we meeting outside the French lines?" "Ah, yes. That way! Yes, yes! What more? Tell me. Oh, tell me!" Still speaking slowly, deliberately, so that she understood that he was thinking deeply as he spoke, that he was weighing carefully each word as it fell from his lips, he said: "Your house is now deserted. There is no servitor there?" "None," she answered, "excepting only the gardener, the old man you saw. He dwells in a little cottage some distance behind. What is your plan?" "This. It may be best that I withdraw from the 'Gouden Leeuw.' I--I can leave it at dusk, as though with the intention of passing out of the city. The people of the house deem me a Frenchman, and therefore hate me. They will not regard my departure as strange; while, if it were well to confide in them, they would not betray me. It was so with the landlord at Antwerp who, in truth, saved me. It might be--would be so here, if needed. The French are their oppressors; they look to the English to save them from the French." "And afterwards?" Sylvia asked almost breathlessly. "Afterwards?" "I should not leave the city--then; but if, instead, I might find shelter in your house for some night or so----"