“It is I, and I alone, who should be blamed for this. I should have made Monsieur Cheverny leave me in the market-place at Mitau. I could have taken care of myself, and I should not have brought all this trouble and anxiety on Monsieur Cheverny or you, Captain Babache, and on Count Saxe—unfortunate that I am.”
“You could not have made me leave you, Mademoiselle,” replied Gaston. “And, besides, it is extremely dangerous in Mitau now for any one who is supposed to be connected with Count Saxe. No, Mademoiselle, no one is to blame, except these ruffians. Perhaps Madame Riano might have been more prudent, but Madame Riano can scarcely be reckoned a prudent woman.”
Francezka smiled again.
“You are right. My Aunt Peggy has the spirit of forty men, and Kirkpatricks at that, in her; and no risk has ever daunted her yet. She is not likely, at her time of life, to learn prudence.”
“But,” cried Gaston, hotly, “she may well take risks for herself; but for you—pardon, Mademoiselle—”
Francezka raised her hand warningly.
“My aunt takes no risks for me that she takes not 117 for herself. God made her entirely without fear, and so must we quarrel, not with her, but with God, for making her what she is.”
Francezka rose and came toward the little fire we had made. I noticed some of Schnelling’s rascals watching us through the screen of boughs, but there was nothing to see except the three of us, sitting around the fire under the solemn larches and firs, and our voices were kept low.
We told her our only plan was to take her to Uzmaiz, and from thence try to communicate with Madame Riano. None of us believed that any very severe measures would be taken against Madame Riano, and we spoke cheerfully of Francezka’s speedily rejoining her. To this Francezka listened attentively.
For an hour we sat thus, in the light of the fire’s red blaze. Francezka kept her mantle about her so that her masculine dress was concealed; with her cavalier’s hat upon her head, and her rich hair curling upon her shoulders, as Gaston had described, she made a beautiful boy—but one bound to excite suspicion. The innate coquetry of her glance, the frequent changes of color, the sudden frowns and smiles made any real masculine disguise impossible.