“It is he again,” thought Remy, “and he is following us.  What can he want?”

After a minute the traveler murmured in a low voice, “They must have gone on, and so will I,” and he rode forward.

“To-morrow we will change our route,” thought Remy.

And he rejoined Diana, who was waiting impatiently for him.

“Well,” said she softly, “are we followed?”

“There is no one, I was wrong; you may sleep in perfect safety, madame.”

“I am not sleepy, Remy.”

“At least have supper, madame; you have scarcely eaten anything.”

“Willingly, Remy.”

They reawakened the poor servant, who got up as good-humoredly as before, and hearing what they wanted, took from the cupboard a piece of salt pork, a cold leveret, and some sweets, which she set before them, together with a frothing jug of Louvain beer.

Remy sat down with Diana, who drank half a glass of beer, and ate a piece of bread.  Remy did the same, and then they both rose.

“Are you not going to eat any more?” asked the girl.

“No, thank you, we have done.”

“Will you not eat any meat? it is very nice.”

“I am sure it is excellent, but we are not hungry.”

The girl clasped her hands in astonishment at this strange abstinence; it was not thus she was used to see travelers eat.

Remy threw a piece of money on the table.

“Oh!” said the girl, “I cannot change all that; six farthings would be all your bill.”

“Keep it all, my girl,” said Diana; “it is true my brother and I eat little, but we pay the same as others.”

The servant became red with joy.

“Tell me, my girl,” said Remy, “is there any cross-road from here to Mechlin?”

“Yes, monsieur, but it is very bad, while the regular road is a very fine one.”

“Yes, my child, I know that, but we wish to travel by the other.”

“Oh!  I told you, monsieur, because, as your companion is a lady, the road would not do for her.”

“Why not?”

“Because to-night a great number of people will cross the country to go to Brussels.”—­“To Brussels?”

“Yes; it is a temporary emigration.”

“For what reason?”

“I do not know; they had orders.”

“From whom—­the Prince of Orange?”

“No; from monseigneur.”

“Who is he?”

“I do not know, monsieur.”

“And who are the emigrants?”

“The inhabitants of the country and of the villages which have no dykes or ramparts.”

“It is strange.”

“We ourselves,” said the girl, “are to set out at daybreak, as well as all the other people in the town.  Yesterday, at eleven o’clock, all the cattle were sent to Brussels by canals and cross-roads; therefore on the road of which you speak there must be great numbers of horses, carts, and people.”

“I should have thought the great road better for all that.”