“Monsieur, you may depend upon it, that whatever dangers encompass Monsieur Cheverny and me, I will not play the coward.”
“I am sure of it, Mademoiselle,” replied Count Saxe, smiling, “but I do not look for any dangers for either of you.”
This was not strictly true, for there was great danger for Gaston Cheverny, although little, if any, for Mademoiselle Capello, as we then thought.
“Do you mean, Monsieur,” asked Francezka, “you think we shall be suffered to walk quietly from the market-place to the palace?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle.”
“And if we reach the palace, there will not be a price put upon our heads?”
“No, indeed, Mademoiselle. I think you will find Madame Riano at the palace, and may resume your journey to-morrow.”
“Then,” cried Francezka, rather crossly, “the only real danger seems to be from the toads in the tunnel! Come, Monsieur Cheverny, let us begin our promenade.”
“Certainly, Mademoiselle,” said Gaston, and then to Count Saxe: “Monsieur, may we meet at Uzmaiz, and may we return in triumph to Mitau, to take our own. Good by, Babache—the next time I see you I hope your face will be washed, for it is like a blackamoor’s now, with burnt powder.”