[CHAPTER XXIV.]
WE ADVANCE.
Before the sun had gilded again the tops of the loftiest pines, Mademoiselle, Maheera and I had started upon our way. I had counseled traveling in the afternoon, but in spite of her weakness Mademoiselle was impatient. She feared that by some mischance Olotoraca might return. We marched on bravely, covering two leagues before the heat of the morning, when we made a halt that Mademoiselle might rest. She vowed that she felt no weariness, but after all that had befallen her, neither Maheera nor I had the humor to see her pressed. We knew that she would have walked on until she had fallen from utter weariness before she would have spoken a word of plaint. There was no need for haste. In the depths of the woods there was little to fear. If we reached the encampment of Satouriona by sunset I would be well content, for Mademoiselle could not safely be conveyed aboard the Vengeance save under the cover of darkness. The attack upon Fort San Mateo could not well be made for two days, for Maheera made sure that not until the war-dance and the “black-drink” were over would her people start upon their journey to the southward.
As we rested there in the deep shadows of the forest I told Mademoiselle of Domenique de Gourgues, and of the Chevalier de Brésac, and what they had done for her and for me and how much I owed the Avenger on her account and my own. When I had finished telling her of the plans of De Gourgues, she gave a sign of fear—the only one she ever showed.
“You will go!” she cried, starting up. “You will go to the attack of Fort San Mateo?”
I took her hand in mine.
“Mademoiselle,” I said, in anguish that she should be so troubled, “Mademoiselle! Can you not see? My word is pledged. I must—I must go!”
Her hand clasped mine convulsively and she turned her head away.
“I had hoped—hoped that you would not! That you loved me more——”