They turned sharply to the left and in a moment stood on the deserted ramparts close under the shadow of the Episcopal Palace. Below them was darkness. To the right, beneath them, the white falls of the river gleamed dimly above the bridge, and the roar of it came to their ears like the roar of the sea. Far across the plain, the Pyrenees rose, range behind range, a white wall in the moonlight. At their feet the walls of the ramparts, bastion below bastion, broken and crenelated, a triumph of mediaeval fortification, faded into the shadow where the river ran. "There is a snow-drift in this corner," whispered Marcos. "It is piled up against the rampart by the north wind. I will drop you over the wall on to it and then follow you. You remember how to hold to my hand?" "Yes," she answered, very quick and alert. There was good blood in her veins, which was astir now, in the presence of danger. "Yes--as we used to do it in the mountains--my hand round your wrist and your fingers round mine." They were standing on the wall now. She knelt down and looked over; then she turned, still on her knees, and clasped her right hand round his wrist while he held hers in his strong grip. She leant forward and without hesitation swung out, suspended by one arm, into the darkness. He stooped, then knelt, and finally lay face downwards on the wall, lowering her all the while. "Go!" he whispered. And she dropped lightly on to the snow-slope beaten by the wind into an icy buttress against the wall. A moment later he dropped beside her. "My father is at the bridge," he said, as they scrambled down to the narrow path that runs along the river bank beneath the walls. "He is waiting for us there with a carriage and a priest." Juanita stopped short. "Oh, I wish I had not come!" she exclaimed. "You can go back," said Marcos slowly; "it is not too late. You can still go back if you want to." But Juanita only laughed at him. "And know for the rest of my life that I am a miserable coward. And it is of cowards that nuns are made; no, thank you. I will carry it through now. Come along. Come and get married." She gave a laugh as she led the way. When they reached the road they were in the full moonlight, and for the first time could see each other. "What is the matter?" said Juanita suddenly. "Your face looks white; there is something I do not understand in it." "Nothing," answered Marcos. "Nothing. We must be quick." "You are sure you are keeping nothing back from me?" she asked, glancing shrewdly at him as she walked by his side. "Nothing," he answered, for the first time, and very conscientiously telling her an untruth. For he was keeping back the crux of the whole affair which he thought she was too young to be told or to understand. The carriage was waiting on the high road just across the old Roman bridge. Sarrion came forward in the moonlight to meet them. Juanita ran towards him, kissed him and clung to his arm with a little movement of affection.