Her fingers moved in his.
"You may square it now, mon Philippe," she whispered, "for all time. Kiss me.... No ... upon the brow,--a Benedictus.... Voilà! I am forgiven, nicht wahr--cleansed--the new fire burns up the old."
She rose abruptly and peered out through the slit in the curtain.
"Clean--cold--passionless--like the new day," she muttered. "It cannot be long now. You shall succeed----"
"You too--we will cross the lake somehow--to freedom."
"Perhaps--at least I have done what I could, n'est ce pas?" She raised the hand of Von Stromberg and let it drop upon the seat. "He will do," she smiled, "but his snore is like the ride of the Valkyries. No one will dare disturb him. Have you ever been to Lindau?"
"No," he replied, "but it's on an island. Lindenhof is what we want--a village a mile to the west. Do you think you can make it?"
"Three miles from Weissenberg--Yes. I don't seem to be tired."
He looked at her anxiously. Her face was paler even than before in the cool light, but its expression was quite calm and even smiling.
A sudden grinding of the brakes of the train as it drew into a station, while the guards called out its name. Rowland, stumbling over the legs of the prostrate Von Stromberg, rushed to the left hand door, lowered the window and peered out. The train came to a stop.