he could talk of her in that quiet voice which
betrayed no rebellion against fate, no cursing of Providence! How he
could plan for her and think of her when she should be alone!

Now I understand it. He was still labouring under the shock of his
friends' murder. He was still partially stunned. Death seemed natural
and familiar to him, as to one who had seen his allies and companions
perish without warning or preparation. Death had come to be normal to
him, life the exception; as I have known it seem to a child brought
face to face with a corpse for the first time.

One afternoon a strange thing happened. We could see the Auvergne
hills at no great distance on our left--the Puy de Dome above them--and
we four were riding together. We had fallen--an unusual thing--to the
rear of the party. Our road at the moment was a mere track running
across moorland, sprinkled here and there with gorse and brushwood.
The main company had straggled on out of sight. There were but half a
dozen riders to be seen an eighth of a league before us, a couple
almost as far behind. I looked every way with a sudden surging of the
heart. For the first time the possibility of flight occurred to me.
The rough Auvergne hills were within reach. Supposing we could get a
lead of a quarter of a league, we could hardly be caught before
darkness came and covered us. Why should we not put spurs to our
horses and ride off?

"Impossible!" said Pavannes quietly, when I spoke.

"Why?" I asked with warmth.

"Firstly," he replied, "because I have given my word to go with the
Vidame to Cahors."

My face flushed hotly. But I cried, "What of that? You were taken by
treachery! Your safe conduct was disregarded. Why should you be
scrupulous? Your enemies are not. This is folly?"

"I think not. Nay," Louis answered, shaking his head, "you would not
do it yourself in my place."

"I think I should," I stammered awkwardly.

"No, you would not, lad," he said smiling. "I know you too well. But
if I would do it, it is impossible." He turned in the saddle and,
shading his eyes with his hand from the level rays of the sun, looked
back intently. "It is as I thought," he continued. "One of those men
is riding grey Margot, which Bure said yesterday was the fastest mare
in the troop. And the man on her is a light weight. The other fellow
has that Norman bay horse we were looking at this morning. It is a
trap laid by Bezers, Anne. If we turned