"I took her place," Bonne repeated--the truth must out now. "She is very young and it was hurting her. She was ill."
"You took her place? To-night?"
"This is--the third night."
"And I"--in a tone of wonder that a second time brought the blood to her cheeks--"I never discovered you! You rode beside me all those nights--all those nights and I never knew you! Is it possible?"
She did not answer.
He was silent a moment. Then, "By Heaven, it was well for me that you did!" he murmured. "Very well! Very well! Without you where should I be now?" His eyes strove to pierce the darkness in which she crouched on the farther side of the opening, scarce out of reach of his hand. "Where should I be now? A handsome situation," he continued bitterly, "for the Governor of Périgord to be seized and hurried to a dog's death by a band of brigands! And to be rescued by a woman!"
"Is it so dreadful to you," she murmured, "to owe your life to a woman?"
"Is it so dreadful to me," he repeated in an altered tone, "to owe my life to you, do you mean? I am willing to owe all to you. You are the only woman----"
But there, even as her heart began to flutter, he stopped. He stopped and she fell to earth. "They are coming!" he muttered. "Keep yourself close! For God's sake, keep yourself close!"
"And you too!" she cried impulsively. "Your life is mine."