It was dark and deserted; and when Guild came in sight of the Lodge, that, too, was dark. Up the long avenue he hastened to the house; the fountain splashed monotonously in the star-light; the circle of tall trees looked down mournfully; the high planets twinkled. He walked around the house, hoping to find a light in the kitchen. All was black, silent, and wrapped in profoundest shadow. He picked up a few pebbles from the driveway, counted the windows until he was certain which one was Karen's. Her window was open. He tossed a pebble against it; and then another into the room itself. Suddenly the girl appeared at the window. "Karen!" he called. She leaned out swiftly, her braided hair falling to the sill. "Kervyn!" she whispered. "Dear, I've only a moment. Could you come down and let me in without waking the others?" "The others? Kervyn, they have gone!" "Gone!" "Everybody's gone! A patrol of hussars galloped here from Trois Fontaines and ordered them across the Dutch frontier. I felt dreadfully; but there was nothing to do. So poor Mrs. Courland and her daughter and her servants have gone on toward Luxembourg with all their luggage. I'm here alone with the Frau Förster. Shall I let you in?" "Did my luggage go to Luxembourg?" "No; it is in the room you occupied." "Then come down quickly and let me in," he said. "If there are German patrols abroad I don't care to be caught here." The girl disappeared; Guild went to the front door and stood looking down the driveway and listening to catch any warning sound. The next moment the door behind him opened and Karen's trembling hands were in his. He gazed down into the pale face framed by its heavy braids. In her slim nightdress and silken chamber robe she appeared very girlish. "What has happened, Kervyn? Your clothes are torn and muddy and you look dreadfully white and tired." "Karen, they burned Lesse this morning." "Oh!" she gasped. "Everything at Lesse is in ashes. Some of the men are dead. The survivors are in the woods behind your house waiting for me." She clung to his arm as they entered the house; Guild picked up one of the lighted candles from the oak table. She took the other and they ascended the stairs together. "There was sniping," he said. "That always brings punishment to innocent and guilty alike. Lesse is a heap of cinders; they drove the forest and shot the driven game from the steps of the carrefour shrine. Men fell there, too, under their rifles--the herdsman, Schultz, the Yslemont men, the little shepherd lad with both his dogs. When their bearers came our way we fired on them." "_You!_ Oh, Kervyn! It means death if they find you!" "I shall not be found." He took her by the hands a moment, smiled at her, then turned swiftly and entered his room holding the candle above his head. After his door had remained closed for a few moments she knocked. "Kervyn," she called, "I am frightened and I am going to dress."