t. We allowed
little time for leave-taking with the poor girl, and were soon mounted
and away, Hugues leading.

"I suggest, Madame," said I, as we proceeded along the road, which was
soon shadowed from the moonlight by a narrow wood at our right, "that on
this journey you pass as my young brother, going with me to Paris to the
University. I will say that we have ridden ahead of our baggage and
attendants,--which is literally true, for my baggage remains at Hugues's
house and you have left Mathilde there."

"Very well, Monsieur," she replied.

"I should have some name to call you by upon occasion," said I. "I will
travel as Henri de Varion, for De Varion was my mother's name, and if
you are willing to use it--"

"Certainly, Monsieur. As for a name to call me by upon occasion, there
will be least falsehood in calling me Louis; for my real name is
Louise."

"Thank you, Madame; and if you have to address me before people, do not
forget to call me Henri."

"I shall not forget."

Her manner in this acquiescence was that of one who follows blindly
where a trusted guide directs, but who takes little interest in the
course or the outcome. A kind of forlorn indifference seemed to have
stolen over her. But she listened to the particulars of residence and
history with which I thought it wise to provide ourselves, and briefly
assented to all. She then lapsed into silence, from which I could not
draw her beyond the fewest words that would serve in politeness to
answer my own speeches.

Meanwhile Hugues led us from the road and across the narrow wood, thence
by a lane and a pasture field to the highway for Vendome and Paris. We
pushed on steadily, passed through Les Roches, which was sound asleep,
and, stopping only now and then to let our horses drink at some stream,
at which times we listened and heard no sound upon the road, we entered
Vendome soon after daylight.

"Had we better stop here for a few hours?" said I, watching the Countess
and perceiving with sorrow how tired and weak she looked.

"I think it well, Monsieur," replied Hugues, his eyes dwelling where
mine did.

"And yet," I said, with a thought of the horror of her being taken, "it
is so few leagues from Lavardin. In such a town, too, the Count's men
would visit all the inns. If we might go on to some village--some
obscure inn. Could you keep up till then, Madame, do you think?"

"Oh, yes,--I think so." But her pallor of face, her weakness of voice,
bel