“My mind is made up; I must flee.”

Taken aback, as if he had received a blow upon his head, with his mouth wide open, his eyes stretched out, M. de Brevan had turned deadly pale; and the perspiration pearled in large drops on his temples, while his hands trembled like the eager hands of a man who touches, and is about to seize, a long-coveted prize.

“Then,” he stammered out, “you are decided; you will leave your father’s house?”

“I must,” she said; and her eyes filled with bright tears.  “And the sooner I can do it the better; for every moment I spend here now may bring a new danger.  And yet, before risking any thing decisive, it might be better first to write to Daniel’s aunt in order to ask her about the directions she may have received, and to tell her that very soon I shall come to ask for her pity and her protection.”

“What?  You think of seeking refuge at the house of that estimable lady?”

“Certainly.”

M. de Brevan, now entirely master of himself, and calculating with his usual calmness, gravely shook his head, and said,—­

“You ought to be careful, madam.  To seek an asylum at the house of our friend’s relative might be a very grave imprudence.”

“But Daniel recommended it to me in his letter.”

“Yes; but he had not considered the consequences of the advice he gave you.  Do not deceive yourself; the wrath of your enemies will be terrible when they find that you have escaped them.  They will pursue you; they will employ the police; they will search for you all over France.  Now, it is evident, that the very first place where they will look for you will be Daniel’s relatives.  The house of the old aunt will be watched at once, and most jealously.  How can you there escape from inquiry and pursuit?  It would be folly to hope for safety there.”

Pensively Henrietta hung her head.  Then she said,—­

“Perhaps you are right, sir.”

“Now,” continued M. de Brevan, “let us see what they would do if they should discover you.  You are not of age, consequently you are entirely dependent on the will of your father.  Under the inspiration of your step-mother, he would attack Daniel’s aunt, on the score of having inveigled a minor, and would bring you back here.”

She seemed to reflect; then she said suddenly,—­“I can implore the assistance of the Duchess of Champdoce.”

“Unfortunately, madam, they told you the truth.  For a year now, the Duke of Champdoce and his wife have been travelling in Italy.”

A gesture of despair betrayed the terrible dejection of the poor girl.

“Great God!” she said, “what must I do?”

A passing smile appeared on the face of M. de Brevan; and he answered in his most persuasive manner,—­

“Will you permit me to offer you some advice, madam?”

“Alas, sir!  I beg you to do so for Heaven’s sake.”

“Well, this is the only plan that seems to me feasible.  To-morrow morning I will rent in a quiet house a suitable lodging, less than modest, a little chamber.  You will move into it, and await there your coming of age, or Daniel’s return.  No detective will ever think of seeking the daughter of Count Ville-Handry in a poor needlewoman’s garret.”