Remy stopped his companion, and putting his hand on the bridle of her horse, said—­

“Madame, you know how inaccessible I am to fear; you know I would not turn my back to save my life; but this evening some strange feeling possesses me, and forbids me to go further.  Madame, call it terror, timidity, panic, what you will, I confess that for the first time in my life I am afraid.”

The lady turned.

“Is he still there?” she said.

“Oh!  I was not thinking of him; think no more of him, madame, I beg of you; we need not fear a single man.  No, the danger that I fear or rather feel, or divine with a sort of instinct, is unknown to me, and therefore I dread it.  Look, madame, do you see those willows bending in the wind?”

“Yes.”

“By their side I see a little house; I beg you, let us go there.  If it is inhabited, we will ask for hospitality; and if not, we will take possession of it.  I beg you to consent, madame.”

Remy’s emotion and troubled voice decided Diana to yield, so she turned her horse in the direction indicated by him.  Some minutes after, they knocked at the door.  A stream (which ran into the Nethe, a little river about a mile off), bordered with reeds and grassy banks, bathed the feet of the willows with its murmuring waters.  Behind the house, which was built of bricks, and covered with tiles, was a little garden, encircled by a quickset hedge.

All was empty, solitary, and deserted, and no one replied to the blows struck by the travelers.  Remy did not hesitate; he drew his knife, cut a branch of willow, with which he pushed back the bolt and opened the door.  The lock, the clumsy work of a neighboring blacksmith, yielded almost without resistance.  Remy entered quickly, followed by Diana, then, closing the door again, he drew a massive bolt, and thus intrenched, seemed to breathe more freely.  Feeling about, he found a bed, a chair, and a table in an upper room.  Here he installed his mistress, and then, returning to the lower room, placed himself at the window, to watch the movements of Du Bouchage.

His reflections were as somber as those of Remy.  “Certainly,” said he to himself, “some danger unknown to us, but of which the inhabitants are not ignorant, is about to fall on the country.  War ravages the land; perhaps the French have taken, or are about to assault Antwerp, and the peasants, seized with terror, have gone to take refuge in the towns.”

But this reasoning, however plausible, did not quite satisfy him.  Then he thought, “But what are Remy and his mistress doing here?  What imperious necessity drags them toward this danger?  Oh, I will know; the time has come to speak to this woman, and to clear away all my doubts.  Never shall I find a better opportunity.”

He approached the house, and then suddenly stopped, with a hesitation common to hearts in love.