ted madly off down the
road, Jerome cursing, screaming and clinging to his mane.

I had to laugh at the success of my stratagem, for though it was a
scurvy trick to play an old friend, it was much the simplest way out of
the difficulty to dispose of him in this bloodless fashion. I put my
horse about now without interference. When I wheeled down the lane
toward Versailles, Jerome's clatter and dust was just dying away over
the crest of a distant hill, making most excellent time in the
direction of Paris.

Now that this new danger was past, I rode on heavy-hearted enough, for
I had grown to love Jerome, and blamed him little for his sudden touch
of fury. For I was nearly in the same boat, borne on by the same
strong currents as Jerome.

Verily, what will man not do for woman? Love had turned him from a
courteous nobleman of France, a brave and kindly gentleman, into the
frenzied coward who would lie to his master, slay his friend, and turn
traitor to his countrymen. A god could not love and be wise.

I jogged along slowly, seeking to rest my horse, for I could not tell
how soon I must look to his speed for safety. It was necessary also
that I should see the two fellows who watched the Versailles road
before they caught sight of me. Possibly an artifice might avail me
where force would fail.

Presently from a slight eminence the broad highway could be seen
winding out of Paris, glistening in the starlight, for it was now after
dusk, twisting in dusty undulations toward the distant palace of the
King. I drew rein among some trees which served for shelter, and
scanned the way to see if the watchers were in sight. The lane, before
it entered the Versailles road, branched out into two portions, one
bearing away toward Paris, while the other traversed a piece of low
ground that struck the main road several hundred yards in the other
direction. Within the irregular triangle thus formed the two grooms
had thrown themselves upon the ground, being distinctly visible in a
little clearing.

Their position commanded quite a considerable stretch of road toward
the city, and as by going that way it would take a good hour and a half
of hard riding to get so far, it was certain they did not expect me to
pass for some time. That cut-off through the lane must have been ten
miles the shorter journey.

This reflection gave me some hope that I might be able to slip by in a
gallop before they could take horse. Yet I could