“Let me go alone,” she said.  “To-night we will not meet again.  To-morrow at dawn.”

Barrington did not return to the ballroom, but after lingering in the great hall for a few minutes with a view of deceiving any one who might be watching his movements, he left the chateau.  So far he had fulfilled his oath, but he had discharged it only to accept a much greater responsibility.  To-morrow he would be riding towards Paris, the cavalier of a beautiful aristocrat.  The position must be full of danger for him; truly it was thrust upon him against his will, yet there was an elasticity in his step as he went back to his lodgings which suggested compensations in the position.  By a strange chain of circumstances, Jeanne St. Clair had come into his life; there was something added to the mere fact of living, whether of joy or pain he could not determine, but he was very sure that his outlook upon life could never be quite the same again.  For good or ill this woman must influence him to some extent, she could never pass out of his life again, leaving him as he was before.  There was a fresh wind blowing across the square of Beauvais, yet it was powerless to disperse the subtle perfume which lingered about him, which was an enfolding atmosphere, which must remain with him always.  He told his tale to Seth in a short, direct manner, emphasizing no single point in it.  The star had been stolen, when or how he did not attempt to guess.  Monsieur le Comte had grossly deceived them, his purpose time would show.  The woman was as far removed from his description as pole is from pole.  He had delivered his message, but circumstances decreed that they could not return alone.

Seth listened to his young master, and made no comment until the tale was ended.

“She is a beautiful woman, then.”

“Yes, I think that would be the world’s opinion.  It is not her beauty which has influenced me.”

“Still, the future might have had less difficulty in it if a man had quarrelled with you to-night instead of a woman pleaded,” Seth answered.

“True enough, but one cannot choose the difficulties he will face.  We must take them as they come, and console ourselves with the reflection that there is a good purpose somewhere behind them.”

“For all that, Master Richard, there are some who overburden themselves with difficulties which do not concern them.  It will be pleasant traveling with a pretty woman, but I fancy trouble is likely to ride in our company, too.  They mostly go together, women and trouble; and the prettier the women are, the greater the trouble, that’s my experience.  There’s just one question in my mind:  on which side are we ranged—­with the people or with the aristocrats?”

“With the people.  Once this woman is in Paris, I——­”

Seth looked at him, waiting for the completion of the sentence.  It remained unfinished.

“A wise pause, Master Richard.  Who can tell what may happen in Paris?  Indeed, we may never reach Paris.  At dawn, you said.  That gives little time for rest.  In these hills the sun gets up early.”