ctions from the King. But, Ursula, you cannot, must
not, dare not, go to Valmy. Remember Saxe. The risk would be madness,
the danger----"

"Where you go I go," she answered steadily. "Dear, do not try to
dissuade me, it would be no use. Let us not fret ourselves in the
little time we have. And is the danger less for you than for me?"

"Do you mean," demanded Molembrais, "that the signet will give
admission to the King at any hour, day or night?"

"At any hour, yes."

"And we are ready to go," said the girl, ranging her horse by the side
of Grey Roland, so that La Mothe was within touch of her hand.

"Neither you nor the priest--La Mothe and La Mothe only," he answered,
his voice roughening into passion for the first time. "Come, sir, I
hold your parole."

"But this does not touch Monsieur La Mothe's parole."

"Mademoiselle, you read my instructions; they have nothing to do with
you."

"Monsieur, I never thought myself a person of any importance, but I
believe the King will thank you."

"Flatly, I decline to take you."

"Flatly, I shall go whether you decline or not."

"Father!" and in his angry perplexity Molembrais turned, appealing to
the priest.

"She is right," answered the Franciscan, speaking for the first time,
"and when one is right there is no turning back, no matter what the end
may be. Yes," he went on, replying now to a sudden gesture dimly seen
in the gloom, "I know you are armed and we are not, but, short of
killing me, you can no more turn me back from the right than you can
turn back the finger of God from lifting the sun yonder."

He faced the east as he spoke, and at the sweep of his arm all faced
with him. Dawn trembled in birth below the hard rim of the world. The
leaden sullenness was colder, clearer, the upper sky a threat of storm,
but the impending shaft of cloud had caught the first of the coming
glory and blazed a splendid crimson. It was as if indeed the Divine
had clothed itself in visibility, that the troubled in spirit might
take comfort, and faith go forward strengthened in the right, unafraid.

Crossing his breast mechanically with his finger-tips the monk sat in
silence, like one tranced. "'Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and the
King of Glory shall come in,'" he murmured. Then he roused,
straightening himself in the saddle. "Let us ride on. Have no fear,
mademoiselle. By the Christ of Love whom I serve you shall taste no
harm."

"They will never let y