The moon was sinking in the sky; there would be three or four dark hours before the dawn. A man galloped up to the gate and gave a countersign in return to a challenge; the heavy gates rolled open; he rode in; another rode out and cantered off along the road towards Praslok. There was watch and ward—Volseni was not to be caught napping as Praslok had been. Whether the King lived or died, his Volsenians were on guard. Dunstanbury turned his back on the hills and came up to Sophy.
"We Essex folk ought to stand by one another," he said. "It's the merest chance that has brought me here, but I'm glad of the chance now. And it's beginning to feel not the least strange. So long as you've need of help, count me among your soldiers."
"But you oughtn't to mix yourself up—"
"Did you act on that principle when you came to Kravonia?"
With a smile Sophy gave him her hand. "So be it. I accept your service—for Monseigneur."
"I give it to you," he persisted.
"Yes—and all that is mine I give to Monseigneur," said Sophy.
Any man who meets, or after an interval of time meets again, an attractive woman, only to find that her thoughts are pre-empted and totally preoccupied, suffers an annoyance not the less real because he sees the absurdity of it; it is to find shut a gate which with better luck might have been open. The unusual circumstances of his new encounter with Sophy did not save Dunstanbury from this common form of chagrin; the tragic element in her situation gave it a rather uncommon flavor. He would fain have appeared as the knight-errant to rescue such beauty in such distress; but the nature of the distress did not seem favorable to the proper romantic sequel.
He made his offer of service to her; she assigned him to the service of Monseigneur! He laughed at his own annoyance—and determined to serve Monseigneur as well as he could. At the same time, while conceding most amply—nay, even feeling—Monseigneur's excuse, he could not admire his policy in the choice of a bride. That was doubtless a sample of how things were done in Kravonia! He lived to feel the excuse more strongly—and to pronounce the judgment with greater hesitation.
Sophy had given him her hand again as she accepted his offer in Monseigneur's name.—He had not yet released it when she was called from the street below in a woman's voice—a voice full of haste and alarm.