the converse implication? Do you not see that
your hands would then be tied, that you would be wanting in honour if
afterwards you refused him? And do you think that I would consent to
anything that could so tie your hands? Do you think I want to see you
damned, Aline?"

Her hand fell away from his arm.

"Oh, you are mad!" she exclaimed, quite out of patience.

"Possibly. But I like my madness. There is a thrill in it unknown to
such sanity as yours. By your leave, Aline, I think I will ride on to
Gavrillac."

"Andre, you must not! It is death to you!" In her alarm she backed her
horse, and pulled it across the road to bar his way.

It was almost completely night by now; but from behind the wrack of
clouds overhead a crescent moon sailed out to alleviate the darkness.

"Come, now," she enjoined him. "Be reasonable. Do as I bid you. See,
there is a carriage coming up behind you. Do not let us be found here
together thus."

He made up his mind quickly. He was not the man to be actuated by false
heroics about dying, and he had no fancy whatever for the gallows of M.
de Lesdiguieres' providing. The immediate task that he had set himself
might be accomplished. He had made heard--and ringingly--the voice that
M. de La Tour d'Azyr imagined he had silenced. But he was very far from
having done with life.

"Aline, on one condition only."

"And that?"

"That you swear to me you will never seek the aid of M. de La Tour
d'Azyr on my behalf."

"Since you insist, and as time presses, I consent. And now ride on with
me as far as the lane. There is that carriage coming up."

The lane to which she referred was one that branched off the road some
three hundred yards nearer the village and led straight up the hill
to the chateau itself. In silence they rode together towards it, and
together they turned into that thickly hedged and narrow bypath. At a
depth of fifty yards she halted him.

"Now!" she bade him.

Obediently he swung down from his horse, and surrendered the reins to
her.

"Aline," he said, "I haven't words in which to thank you."

"It isn't necessary," said she.

"But I shall hope to repay you some day."

"Nor is that necessary. Could I do less than I am doing? I do not want
to hear of you hanged, Andre; nor does my uncle, though he is very angry
with you."

"I suppose he is."

"And you can hardly be surprised. You were his delegate, his
representative. He depended upon you, and you have turned you