“Then, seeing it was time for adieu, I ran for it; a great hue and cry was raised after me, but I managed to get out of the palace by an open window on the ground floor, and by doubling and twisting like a hare, I got back, unmolested, to the inn. Now, Babache, was there any indiscretion there?”
I was forced to admit that I could not name any fault he had committed; for surely, his not betraying Count Saxe was not a fault.
“The torrents of rain still continued, and it seemed to me best that we should not lose a moment in getting out of Mitau; and so I told Francezka. I proposed to her that we should cross the river by the bridge of boats. This she at once agreed to; in fact, she proved the most docile creature imaginable in moments of real danger. The crossing of the bridge was not easy, the 113 boats being rickety, and the wind and rain making our footing insecure; but she accomplished it without a sign of alarm—even with gaiety. Once on the other side of the river, we walked briskly, our cloaks protecting us well, and kept to the highroad. I thought it likely the town of Mitau would be well searched for me before the seekers crossed the river. And presently the rains ceased and the sun came out. It seemed as if good fortune had adopted us, and we fared along gaily enough.”
Yes, the two no doubt were in great spirits and much laughter, still thinking it a mere escapade.
“Toward noon we reached a considerable village with a good inn and posting house, and going boldly to the inn, I demanded horses. The people seemed to be touched by our youth; they thought—” here a flush showed under Gaston’s tan and sunburn—“they thought we were a couple running away to be married, and their sympathy for us was not diminished by the liberal way in which I paid for all I wanted. Here Francezka rested for an hour or two, and I worked out my plan for reaching Uzmaiz with her, as that was our only refuge. I told her all the risks we ran, and offered to follow any other plan which seemed good to her. But she assured me of her confidence in me, and, in truth, there was but one thing for us to do—to make for Uzmaiz. While she was resting I had gone out and bought a handsome riding suit for her; for it was clearly best that she should travel as my young brother François. When I produced the riding suit, and told her gently the necessity for wearing it, she turned pale and burst into tears. What strange creatures women are, after all!
“She made no objection, however, and the only thing she showed obstinacy about was that her own garments should be carried with us. I believe she would have flatly refused to go if I had not agreed to this; and when I suggested to her that it would be well to leave her laced hat behind, she wept again. The laced hat has accompanied us on all our travels, and it is in my charge now. Our friend Schnelling took possession of her other clothes, and we must manage to get them from him; he does not seem to be an ill-natured dog, and will, no doubt, give them up without trouble. To go back to our travels. We got the best post-horses in the village and started for Uzmaiz. Francezka made the prettiest boy imaginable—” here we both glanced toward the sleeping Francezka—“with her locks curling upon her shoulders. I gave out that she was my brother, but nevertheless suspicion was excited by all who saw her. Such grace and beauty as hers can not be disguised.”
“Especially as you treated this alleged boy as if she were a princess,” I said.
“Would not you have done the same? At all events, we got three days’ travel away from Mitau, when, on the evening of the third day, we were apprehended by these rogues. They professed to be a part of General Bibikoff’s army, but I knew from the beginning that they were merely highwaymen. They sent the post-chaise back, and forced us to march on foot with them. This was nothing to me; but oh, Babache—the spectacle of the woman you love forced to tramp in the company of scoundrels like these! A woman softly nurtured, whose delicate feet were bruised with stones, with rough 115 climbing, bearing it all courageously, never an impatient or sorrowful word—no tears then—taking all the blame for our situation upon herself—you can not imagine my sufferings!”
Perhaps I understood those sufferings better than he dreamed.