"Where to?"
"Where to? To France, of course. When you think of it, that's the only country where one's really comfortable."
And, when she stared at him in amazement, he said:
"Come, let's hurry. The car's waiting; and I promised Bernard—yes, your brother Bernard—that we should be with him to-night. . . . Are you ready? But why that astounded look? Do you want to have things explained to you? But, my very dearest, it will take hours and hours to explain everything that's happened to yourself and me. You've turned the head of an imperial prince . . . and then you were shot . . . and then . . . and then . . . Oh, what does it all matter? Must I force you to come away with me?"
All at once she understood that he was speaking seriously; and, without taking her eyes from him, she asked:
"Is it true? Are we free?"
"Absolutely free."
"We're going back to France?"
"Immediately."
"We have nothing more to fear?"