The voices came nearer; they were chattering idly of current events in Budapest, but half-way across the clearing Elizabeth raised her hand and restrained Arnold. "Please, monsieur," she said, and the sound of her voice stole through the quiet air to where Geoffrey was hidden. "Please, monsieur, I would like to stop here." Arnold obediently halted. Then suddenly Elizabeth saw the old fountain, and, crossing to it, stood there, watching it in the light of the moon. "Poor Mercury," she said wistfully; "he seems so solitary--alone in this big forest with no one near. He must have been a merry little chap in the old days, before he became overgrown with moss. I am going to sit down. Won't you rest beside me, Monsieur Arnold, so that I may talk to you?" She seated herself on the edge of the large empty basin, and gazed around. From his place of concealment Geoffrey watched, and the beauty of the scene tortured him so that he closed his eyes. The silver rays of the moon bathed the clearing and the _château_ in a pure white light which softened the decay, till one could almost picture it as it must have appeared in those far-off days when it had been the centre of life and love, of activity and of idleness: the playground of courtiers and ladies-in-waiting, with their colours and their swords, with their lace petticoats and their fans. Never had Elizabeth looked so beautiful; it seemed to Geoffrey that never before had a background so admirably become her. If it were he who sat beside her, if it were only he! He caught his breath in a little gasp. "How you must have wondered at me, Monsieur Arnold!" Elizabeth was saying to him as he sat beside her. "Did you think me mad, asking you to escort me here one night?" "Indeed no," Arnold replied in his deep voice. "On the contrary, mademoiselle, I myself was more than pleased to come. This _château_ has wonderful memories for me--memories of one night, just like this, not so long ago, when ... when Cecile..." He stopped awkwardly. "Why, of course. I had forgotten," and it seemed to Geoffrey as if there was a sigh in her voice. "You are very happy, monsieur?" "Happy!" There was a wealth of gladness in that one word which spoke for itself. "Mademoiselle, a short while ago, in the middle of the Terror, I would have said that this world was a Hell for some other and better world. Now it seems to me that it must be Heaven itself." "Heaven!" she repeated in a whisper. "Heaven! Well, it might be, if..." She turned to Arnold suddenly. "What of the White Knight? Where is he?" "Heaven only knows, mademoiselle," Arnold groaned. "Some time after the Rumanians took control he disappeared without a word. Since then I have hunted high and low for him without success." "Are you not--afraid?" There was a catch in her voice.