ived at Chateaudun that Monday night. The Countess endured the
journey fairly well; but her strange, dreamy listlessness had not left
her.

At Chateaudun as at Vendome, we sought out lodgings in a by-street, and
therein passed the night. We were now but a few hours' ride from the
convent, by Madame's account of its location. Soon I should have to part
from her, with the intention on her side not to see me again, and the
promise on mine to respect that intention. To postpone this moment as
long as possible, I found pretexts for delaying our departure in the
morning; but as afternoon came on she insisted upon our setting out. I
did so with a sorrowful heart, knowing it meant I must take my last
leave of her that evening.

From our having passed nearly a week without any sign of pursuit, a
feeling of security had arisen in us. If the Count or his men had sought
in this direction, passing through Vendome while we lay quiet in our
back street, that search would probably be over by this time. But even
if chase had not been made simultaneously by various parties on various
roads, there had been time now for search in different directions one
after another. Yet spies might remain posted at places along the roads
for an indefinite period, especially near the convent. But as long as
the risk was only that of encountering a man or two at once, I had
confidence enough. In Vendome I had bought the Countess a light rapier
to wear for the sake of appearance, of course not expecting her to use
it. But though in case of attack I should have to fight alone, I felt
that her presence would make me a match for two at least.

I tried to avoid falling in with people on the road, but a little way
out from Chateaudun we came upon a country gentleman, of a well-fed and
amiable sort, whose desire for companionship would let us neither pass
ahead nor drop behind. He was followed by three stout servants, and
expressed some concern at seeing two young gentlemen like us going that
road without attendants.

"Though to be sure," he added, "there seems to be less danger now; but
you must have heard of the band of robbers that haunt the forests about
Bonneval and further on. There has been little news of their doings
lately, and some people think they may have gone to other parts. But who
knows when they will suddenly make themselves heard of again, when least
expected?--'tis always the way."

He soon made us forget about dangers of the road, howeve