But she never heeded the gibe at her native province. “No horses?” she echoed, and her hazel eyes looked up sharply, the alarm returning to her face. She rose, and approached him. “Surely that is impossible.”
“I assure you that it is as I say—neither at the post-house nor at any of the inns I visited could I find me a spare horse.”
“Monsieur,” she cried, “I see the hand of Condillac in this.”
“As how?” he inquired, and his tone again was quickened by impatience.
“They have anticipated you. They seek to keep you here—to keep us in Grenoble.”
“But to what end?” he asked, his impatience growing. “The Auberge de France has promised me a carriage in the morning. What shall it avail them at Condillac to keep us here to-night?”
“They may have some project. Oh, monsieur! I am full of fears.”
“Dismiss them,” he answered lightly; and to reassure her he added, smiling: “Rest assured we shall keep good watch over you, Rabecque and I and the troopers. A guard shall remain in the passage throughout the night. Rabecque and I will take turn about at sentry-go. Will that give you peace?”
“You are very good,” she said, her voice quivering with feeling and real gratitude, and as he was departing she called after him. “You will be careful of yourself,” she said.
He paused under the lintel, and turned, surprised. “It is a habit of mine,” said he, with a glint of humour in his eye.