“It is not worth while considering it now,” I said, to reassure them; “we undoubtedly evaded his vigilance by locking the door upon him. I do not believe that he reached the other part of the house before we were safely out of the court, and he is not likely to fathom our designs.”
“One cannot tell,” murmured mademoiselle. “I sometimes think that he and Ramodanofsky—I beg your pardon, Zénaïde—are allied with Satan, it seems so difficult to defeat them.”
A hundred yards from Von Gaden’s house the carriage stopped, and Pierrot came to the door.
“What is the matter?” I asked sharply.
“A carriage is easily tracked, M. le Vicomte,” he said hesitatingly, “and I thought perhaps, as a precaution, you had better go the rest of the way on foot.”
He spoke in French, evidently supposing that both women were Russians and would not understand him, for I saw his start of surprise when Mademoiselle Eudoxie exclaimed, in her native tongue,—
“He is right, Monsieur Philippe; we had better get out here, for if Polotsky try to track us, he will follow the carriage.”
I saw the wisdom of the suggestion, and getting out, helped them to alight. Pierrot directed the coachman to return by a circuitous route to my quarters, while we four proceeded on foot to Von Gaden’s house. I was half inclined to doubt the necessity for the precaution when I looked back and saw only deserted streets. I walked in front with Zénaïde, and Pierrot escorted mademoiselle, who, recognizing him as a fellow-countryman, chatted to him as they went; anything French was welcome to her. For a little way Zénaïde and I were silent, but as the doctor’s house was near at hand, she spoke.
“M. de Brousson,” she said in a low voice, in which there was a slight tremor, “I have no words in which to thank you. My gratitude is equal to the horror from which I am fleeing. Alone, mademoiselle and I could have accomplished nothing; we did not even know what to do. To you, then, monsieur, I owe a liberty which is more precious than my life.”
I was deeply moved, and words rushed to my lips which I dared not utter at that time, and in her hour of peril.