BETRAYED.
They had met again. Were together, never more to part unless parted by one thing, Death! Death that was imminent at any moment, that might overtake them that very night, or to-morrow, or the next day; for Cavalier was on his way down to the plains to make those reprisals of which Montbonneux had spoken. God only knew what might be the end of all.
She, riding on the captured little mule and enveloped in costly furs--as usual, part of a spoil of a successful foray made by the Camisards on a more or less unprotected manoir--had seen him as the large body of Cavalier's followers had rounded a point in the mountain pass, and, springing from the animal's back, had thrown herself into his outstretched arms, unheeding those who came behind her and the Cévenole chief, thinking of naught at the moment but that he was safe and with her again, deeming all else insignificant beside that one supreme mercy vouchsafed by God. For she knew in what awful danger he had stood not many hours before; knew that, not more for the purpose of exacting vengeance than for that of rescuing him, was this descent from the mountains being made. And now he was safe, by her side again.
He drew her apart from where Cavalier stood with all his followers behind him; drew her apart and whispered words of love and thankfulness at seeing her once more. Then suddenly, observing on the fair young face and in the clear, pure eyes a look that he had never seen before, he murmured:
"What--what is it, Urbaine, my sweet?"
But she would not answer him, only contenting herself with saying, "Not now, not now," while even as she did so he saw beneath the light of the full moon that her eyes were full of tears. Felt, too, the warm hand which he held quiver in his grasp.
And as he noticed those symptoms of unhappiness he wondered if she had learned while among these Camisards that secret which one at least of them knew--that secret which, to prevent her from ever learning, had caused Baville to bid him fly with her out of France, away, anywhere, so that she might never know it. Never know that her father's death lay at his door.
"Come," said Cavalier, approaching them and speaking very quietly, after having carried on a hurried conversation for some moments with Montbonneux and the other two men, "come, we must move forward. Thank God, you are free, out of the tiger's claws; for your sake and ours as well, if what my followers report of the news you bring is true. Is it?" and he looked piercingly at the other in the moonbeam's light.
"It is true if they have told you that a large force is making its way toward these mountains. They must have left Nîmes some time before me, since I followed them a considerable distance before coming up with their rear, and I have outstripped them by perhaps two hours, though not longer, I think."
Then he told Cavalier that Baville had himself released him.