Three leagues, and we had scarce exchanged three words; certainly, the signs were not propitious, yet, looking at that dark outline beside me, I found nothing to say; I was as tongue-tied as a lad before his first love. Then, making up my mind to break the ice, to speak and make her speak, I blundered.
“I must tell you, madame, that Prince Galitsyn did not know of your——”
I was going to say “marriage,” when she interrupted me.
“If you have nothing better to say, sir,” she cried impatiently, “I pray you say nothing!”
I gasped, taken aback by her sharpness, and felt myself a fool, and yet I had made her speak. But if she felt so deeply for Galitsyn, was I not a fool for my pains? A curse upon these princes! It was the same in France; let a fop with a drop of royal blood in him make love to a woman, and away with the plain gentleman, and even with the marquis!
I bit my lip and relapsed into sullen silence, and our horses plodded steadily on; I had spared their speed purposely, in case we should have need of it before we gained the monastery. Again the silence of the brooding night gathered us under its shadowy wings and enfolded us softly, so softly that I thought I heard her even breathing, and once there was a sharp, shuddering sigh. She did not share my joy at escape, then, or my presence chilled it. Resolutely silent now, I kept my gaze averted and saw presently the flicker of a light to the left, a few yards ahead. I peered at it, trying to make out whether it was advancing, or burned before some wayside shrine, and I saw that it was stationary. I was for turning out to avoid it, suspicious of unknown dangers, when I became suddenly aware that the figure beside me was drooping in the saddle, and I heard a soft, suppressed sound—a woman’s weeping. I started and drew rein; was it possible that this imperious creature wept? I could not be mistaken, for I heard a smothered sob, and she reeled forward, clinging to her saddle-bow. I bent over and caught hold of her bridle.
“I pray you, madame, not to give way,” I said gravely, “even if my presence does offend you. I——”
“You mistake, monsieur,” she cried tremulously; “I cannot go on—’tis sheer weakness. I have not slept and I have not eaten—since the bread you gave me yesternight.”
“Saint Denis!” I exclaimed sharply; “did they try to starve you, my——”
I bit my tongue to stay an endearing word.