her to her
saddle,--she now thought herself able to ride without support. I mounted
my own horse, grasped the halter of the other, and took the path for the
highway.

"We are none too soon," said I, as we left the glade. "How dark the path
is even now: I hope we shall be able to keep it."

Darkness came on more quickly than usual, because of the swift
overclouding of the sky. Very soon I could not see two paces before me.
Then blackness settled down upon us. My horse still went on, but slowly
and uncertainly, with many a halt to make sure of footing and a free
way. When I glanced back, I could not see the Countess, but I held the
tighter to the halter of her horse and frequently asked if all was well.
Her reply was, "Yes, Monsieur," in a faint, tired voice. I felt about
with my whip for the trees at the side of the path, and thus was able to
guide the horse when its own confidence faltered.

Instead of cooling, the air became close. Suddenly the forest was
lighted up by a pale flash which, lasting but a moment, was followed
after a time by a distant rumble of thunder.

"It is far away, Madame," said I. "It may not come in this direction, or
we may be safely housed before it does."

"I am not afraid."

However, lest rain might fall suddenly, I stopped the horses, unrolled
from behind my saddle a cloak which I had bought in Vendome, and put it
around the Countess. We then proceeded as best we could. Slowly as we
had gone, I began to think it time we should emerge from the forest; but
another flash of lightning showed apparently endless vistas of wood on
every side. We went on for another half hour or so, during which the
distant thunder continued at intervals; and then, finding ourselves as
deep in the forest as ever, I perceived that we must have strayed from
our right path. I stopped and told the Countess.

"It must be so," she said.

"I noticed no cross-path when I rode into the forest this afternoon. Yet
a path might join at such an angle that, looking straight ahead, I
should not have seen it. Yes, that is undoubtedly the case, if we are in
a path at all. Perhaps we are following the bed of a dried-up stream."

"Do you wish to turn back, then?"

"We might only lose ourselves. And yet that is what must happen if we go
ahead. Let us wait for a flash of lightning."

One came presently, while my eyes were turned ready in what I thought
the direction from which we had come. But there seemed to lie no opening