le might want to know more, if they were to meet you carrying a
woman."

Some minutes passed, and then, finding that Claire remained
unconscious, Philip lifted her on to his shoulder.

"We will risk it, Pierre. As long as we only meet them coming along
in twos or threes, we can go on safely; for if they are
inquisitive, I can set her down and speedily silence their
questioning. If we see a large body coming, we can either turn down
a side street or, if there is no turning at hand, can set her down
again and answer as before. Every step we get, farther away from
the quarter we have left, the better."

He had carried Claire but a few hundred yards, when he felt her
move. He at once set her down again, on a doorstep. In a few
minutes she was able to stand and, assisted by Philip, she
presently continued her course, at a slow pace. Gradually the
movement restored her strength, and she said, speaking for the
first time:

"I can walk alone."

An hour later they reached the hut that they had marked out as
their place of refuge. Pierre went to a corner and drew out, from
under a heap of rubbish, a large bundle.

"Here is your cloak and mine," he said, "and a change of clothes
for each of us. We could not wander about the country, in this
guise."

Philip laid the cloaks down to form a sort of couch; and placed the
bundle, with the rest of the things in, as a pillow.

"Now, mademoiselle," he said, "you will be safe here until
nightfall. First you must drink a glass of wine, and try and eat
something. Pierre brought some up here, two days ago. Then I hope
you will lie down. I will watch outside the door. Pierre will go
down into the town, to gather news."

"I will take something presently," she said. "I could eat nothing,
now."

But Pierre had already uncorked a bottle, and Philip advised her to
drink a little wine.

"You will need all your strength," he said, "for we have a long
journey before us."

She drank a few drops.

"Do not go yet," she said. "I must speak to you."

Philip nodded to Pierre, who left the hut. Claire sat on the cloaks
for some minutes, in silence.

"I have been thinking, Monsieur Philip," she said at last, "and it
seems to me that it would not be right for me to go with you. I am
the promised wife of the Sieur de Pascal, and that promise is all
the more sacred, since he to whom I gave it,"--and she paused--"is
gone. It would not be right for me to go with you. You shall take
me to the