at state," said Nicolas
fearfully.

"Well, I have a start, and shall travel as fast as my horse can safely
carry me."

"But wherever you go, Monsieur, the law will in time come up with you."

"I have thought of that; and now listen. This is what you are to do. We
shall come very soon to a meeting of roads. You will there turn to the
right--"

"And leave you, Monsieur Henri?"

"Yes, it is necessary for my safety."

"And you will go on to Paris alone?"

"I am not going to Paris immediately--at least, I shall not go by way of
Le Mans and Chartres, as I had intended. We have already turned our
backs on that road, when we left the square in front of the inn. I shall
go by way of Vendome." Montoire--where the letter had evidently come
from and where therefore the lady probably was--lay on the road to
Vendome.

"And I, Monsieur?"

"You are to go back to La Tournoire, but not by the way we have come
over. This road to the right that you will soon take leads first to
Jarze, and there you will find a road to the West which will bring you
to our own highway not two leagues from home." I repeated these
directions as we left La Fleche behind us, till they seemed firmly
lodged in Nicolas's head. "I don't know how long it will take you to do
this journey," I added, "nor even when you may expect to reach Jarze.
You mustn't overdo either the mule or yourself. Stop at the first
country inn and get something to eat, before it is too late at night to
be served. Go on to-night as far as you think wise. It may be best, or
necessary, to sleep in some field or wood, not too near the road, as I
shall probably do toward the end of the night."

"I shall certainly do that, Monsieur. It is a fine night."

"When you get to La Tournoire, you are to tell my father that I am going
on without an attendant, but by way of Vendome. You needn't say anything
about what you suppose my purpose to be: you needn't repeat what you
heard me say about that lady, or the letter: you aren't to mention the
lady or the letter at all."

"I understand, Monsieur Henri; but I do hope you will keep out of other
people's troubles. You have enough of your own now, over this unlucky
duel."

"It's to get me out of that trouble that you are going home. Give my
father a full account of the duel. Tell him the gentleman insulted my
religion as well as myself; that he tried my patience beyond endurance.
My father will understand, I trust. And say that I shall leave