This idea took such possession of her mind that, after dinner was concluded, and twilight had enveloped the earth in a mantle of gray, she summoned Aunt Medea.
“Get your cloak, quickly, aunt,” she commanded. “I am going for a walk, and you must accompany me.”
Aunt Medea extended her hand to the bell-rope, but her niece stopped her.
“You will dispense with the services of your maid,” said she. “I do not wish anyone in the chateau to know that we have gone out.”
“Are we going alone?”
“Alone.”
“Alone, and on foot, at night——”
“I am in a hurry, aunt,” interrupted Blanche, “and I am waiting for you.”
In the twinkling of an eye Aunt Medea was ready.
The marquis had just been put to bed, the servants were at dinner, and Blanche and Aunt Medea reached the little gate leading from the garden into the open fields without being observed.