She filled her lungs with the keen winter air: hope, happiness, excitement thrilled her every nerve.
"A short walk, my lady," whispered the guide, still speaking in English; "you are not cold?"
"No, no, I am not cold," she whispered in reply. "I am conscious of nothing save that I am free."
"And you are not afraid?"
"Indeed, indeed I am not afraid," she murmured fervently. "May God reward you, sir, for what you do."
Again there had been that certain something—vaguely familiar—in the way the man spoke which for the moment piqued Yvonne's curiosity. She did not, of a truth, know English well enough to detect the very obvious foreign intonation; she only felt that sometime in the dim and happy past she had heard this man speak. But even this vague sense of puzzlement she dismissed very quickly from her mind. Was she not taking everything on trust? Indeed hope and confidence had a very firm hold on her at last.