Next morning I rode away to see the Comte de Chaumont at Leraysville. I had my life, and a great reason to be thankful, but there were lives dearer than my own to me, and they were yet in peril. Those dear faces haunted me and filled my sleep with trouble. I rode fast, reaching the château at luncheon time. The count was reading in a rustic chair at the big gate. He came running to me, his face red with excitement.
"M'sieur le Capitaine!" he cried, my hand in both of his, "I thought you were dead."
"And so I have been—dead as a cat drowned in a well, that turns up again as lively as ever. Any news of the baroness and the young ladies?"
"A letter," said he. "Come, get off your horse. I shall read to you the letter."
"Tell me—how were they taken?"
I was leading my horse, and we were walking through the deep grove.
"Eh bien, I am not able to tell," said he, shaking his head soberly. "You remember that morning—well, I have twenty men there for two days. They are armed, they surround
