"Oh! Henri, what has happened?
what brings you here ?" "Rise, dearest, we must fly," said he: "we have not a moment--we fear the blues are coming." He dreaded that she would have lost all power of motion, had he told her that they were already beneath the windows.
"Haven't I time to dress ?" said she; "I won't be a moment--not one minute." "No, darling," answered he, raising her from the bed, as though she were an infant, and folding her in her brother's cloak.

"We haven't one instant to throw away.

Remember who has you in his arms: remember that it is I, your own Henri, who am pressing you to my heart." He took her up from the bed in his left arm, and with his right hand arraigned the cloak around her person, and carrying her out into the passage, hurried to the window which he had left open.
This window looked from the opposite end of the house to that at which Westerman found the open door.

It was on the first landing of the staircase, and was therefore distant from the ground but little more than half the height of the ground floor, but a hard gravel path ran immediately under it; and though the leap was one which few young men might much hesitate to take with empty arms, it was perilous with such a burden as Henri had to carry.

He however did not think twice about it, and would have considered himself and his charge nearly safe could he have reached the window unmolested, but that he was not allowed to do.
As he began to descend the stairs the loud noise of the troopers' boots, and the quick voice of Westerman giving his commands in the hall, told him at once that the house was already occupied by the blues.