," she said, "after to-morrow."

CHAPTER L

Into the black night across the level plain which stretched between
Theos and the pass of Althea a woman rode as one rides a race with
death. Her servants had been left far away behind--her horse's sides
were streaked with foam, once or twice he had swerved and almost
unseated her. She plied him with whip and spur, and passionate words.
It was for the honour of a great race, for her own salvation that she
rode. All was well as yet. The lights of the camp were twinkling like
a band of ribbon across the hillside, and there was silence as deep as
death everywhere, except when the wind came booming down the valley in
fitful gusts, and bowed the tops of the lonely and stunted trees.
Upwards she mounted, and the road grew rougher. Her horse's eyes were
streaked with blood, his nostrils quivered. Still she urged him on. A
little further now, and her goal was reached. So she rode on, white to
the lips with fear--lest even now she should be too late.

At the outposts they stopped her, and the great bay horse, after
staggering for a moment like a drunken man, fell over dead. She
scarcely glanced at him. The officer, who knew her, rapidly
transferred her saddle to his own pony.

"It is a message from the King to Nicholas," she said. "Tell me, how
long will it take me?"

"The Duke is himself guarding the Beacon," the soldier answered.
"Madame the Countess will reach him in ten minutes."

She galloped off, never noticing that her pony's feet were shod with
felt. She looked neither to the right nor the left, and she saw
nothing of the strange restlessness which seemed to pervade the camp.
Everywhere the shadows of men were moving noiselessly about. Spectral
guns were surrounded by little groups of whispering soldiers. There
was no bivouacing, the camp-fires burned low. Every now and then, when
challenged, she mechanically repeated the countersign. All the while
her lips were moving in one ceaseless, passionate prayer.

They took her pony at the summit, and a silent sentry pointed to where
a single dark figure stood out against the empty background. A few
yards to his left was the great beacon, and a row of torches burned in
a stand, ever ready for the signal. She called to him softly, and even
to herself her voice seemed to come from a long way off.

"Nicholas! Nicholas!"

He turned towards her, and she saw that his face was livid. He was
horrified to see her.

"Marie!