He had come single-handed--save for his man Rabecque; and in a manner that was worthy of being made the subject of an epic, he had carried her out of Condillac, away from the terrible Dowager and her cut-throats.

The thought of them sent a shiver through her.
"Do you feel the cold ?" he asked concernedly; and that the wind might cut her less, he slackened speed.
"No, no," she cried, her alarm waking again at the thought of the folk of Condillac.

"Make haste! Go on, go on! Mon Dieu! if they should overtake us!" He looked over his shoulder.

The road ran straight for over a half-mile behind them, and not a living thing showed upon it.
"You need have no alarm," he smiled.

"We are not pursued.