The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure

  CHAPTER XXI.

  "THE ROAD TO PARIS."

  Dick descended first, then came Catherine, Gretel next, Antoine last.While the four were speeding, in the darkness, from the open grounds ofthe palace, Antoine bethought him that he had not yet dismissed thehorse on which he had come from Spangenberg. He therefore went and gotthe animal, in sight of the guards at one of the doors, who supposed hehad left the palace by another exit. He then rode boldly out of thetown, crossing the bridge to take the Melsungen road. As he not onlyknew the password for all guards and patrols, but was also known to havebeen riding on the Landgrave's business, he was not detained a moment onthe bridge. He rode on to a place that Dick had named as a rendezvous.

  Meanwhile, Dick and the two women joined Romberg at the riverside,silently got aboard the boat, and rowed up the Fulda to a point somedistance out of the city. Here they disembarked and found the two horseswhere the gentlemen had left them. In a few minutes they, too, werepressing forward on the Melsungen road, Catherine mounted behind Dick,Gretel behind Romberg.

  "What road is this?" asked Catherine, whose sense of locality anddirection had been confused by the darkness and the haste.

  "It leads first to Melsungen," said Dick, "but for us it is merely thefirst stage of the road to Paris; we shall not stop, except to eat andsleep and change horses, till we arrive there."

  Dick felt certain he could now return to Paris without incurring dangerthere. He would make himself known at once to the Americancommissioners, and so establish connections that would not allow of hisbeing imprisoned again without inquiry. As a citizen of a country nowFrance's ally in war, he would have little, if anything, to fear fromNecker, as long as he should act prudently. As for the secretBrotherhood, perhaps it no longer existed. Now that he had not fourarmed men at his elbows, he felt he could take care of himself. But hetrusted most to the likelihood of his being unrecognized after such alapse of time.

  Meanwhile, he was yet several days' journey from Paris, and far frombeing out of the dominion of his friend, Frederick II. of Hesse-Cassel.

  When the four riders, on the two horses, neared the place where Antoinewas to have waited, they heard a horse coming towards them from ahead,and soon the dark figure that loomed up on its back proved to be his.

  "Monsieur," he said to Dick, "there is a body of horsemen approachingfrom the direction of Melsungen. They must be the troops that theLandgrave sent in search of you after your escape yesterday." Antoinehad been informed of recent occurrences by the messenger whom he hadaccompanied to Spangenberg.

  "Shall we turn back and take the by-road we passed awhile ago?" askedDick, of Romberg, who was better acquainted with the country.

  "It is the only thing to do," said Romberg, suiting action to the wordby turning his horse.

  When the party had moved a few rods back towards Cassel, there came fromthe direction of the city a sullen boom, breaking with startling effectthe silence of the night.

  "The alarm-gun," said Romberg, checking his horse.

  "That is fired for deserters, is it not?" said Dick, following hisexample.

  "But deserters might have robbed gentlemen, and taken their clothes andhorses, with which to escape," said Romberg. "That gun warns the countryto look out for fugitives of any kind."

  "The Landgrave must have awakened too soon and given the alarm," saidDick. "I let him off with too small a dose."

  At that instant there was heard a distant hollow sound like thunder, butless uneven.

  "Horsemen galloping over the bridge at Cassel," said Romberg.

  "A pursuing party, without any doubt," said Dick. "Hang mythoughtlessness! The guards saw which way Antoine came. Well, we mustreach the by-road before they do."

  "That is impossible," said Romberg. "We should meet them before wearrived there."

  "But if we wait here they will be upon us in a few minutes. And, if weresume our way towards Melsungen, we shall meet the party that Antoinediscovered. Hark, I can hear that party now!"

  Romberg looked around, scanning the dark country on both sides of theroad. Here the land was quite clear of trees, and every object was nowand then made visible by the appearance of the moon through cloud-rifts.

  "There is a ruined abbey, at the head of that short lane," said Romberg."Perhaps if we should hide there till these two parties meet,--"

  "As neither party would have come upon us on the way," said Dick, "theymight suppose we had taken some other road, after all. Come, then. 'Tisour only chance."

  The three horses were instantly turned into the lane. The abbey was nowused as a barn. The wide door was barred on the outside with a piece ofwood, merely to keep it from being opened by the wind. The mendismounted and led the horses into the dark interior, which smelled ofhay and grain. They closed the door, but there was no way of bolting iton the inside. The women now dismounted, and the party stood in silence,trusting that their horses would not in any way betray their presence.

  As fate would have it, the two forces of horsemen--the one commanded bythe officer who had let Dick escape, the other by the Baron vonSungen--met near the mouth of the lane leading to the barn. Torches werelighted, and the two leaders conferred for some time. Then Von Sungen,who was not only the superior in rank but was also the more recentlyfrom Cassel and had the Landgrave's latest orders, got off his horse,seized a torch from one of the bearers, and started up the lane,followed afoot by six of his men.

  The gentlemen in the barn saw this movement through chinks of the door.

  "It is Von Sungen," said Romberg. "He must have a strong personalinterest in your capture, that he should come to search with his owneyes."

  He and Dick drew their swords. Antoine held ready a pistol, which he hadcarried in his saddle-bag on his Spangenberg journey.

  Von Sungen's concern seemed indeed very great, for so rapidly he strodethat he reached the barn a dozen feet ahead of his men. He opened thedoor, and thrust in his head, preceding it with his torch.

  Before any one could make a movement, the attention of all was drawn byCatherine, who said to Dick and Romberg:

  "Flee for your lives, gentlemen! Don't heed me. I shall be dead beforehe can lay a hand upon me."

  And she held to her lips the phial that Dick had left on her table inthe palace.

  Dick ran to grasp her hand, and Von Sungen cried out to her, in theutmost alarm, "For God's sake, not that, mademoiselle!" He, too, wouldhave rushed in to prevent her, but his breast was menaced by the swordof Romberg.

  Meanwhile the dismounted men who had accompanied Von Sungen from theroad, had halted at a respectful distance from him, and they now stoodawaiting orders, which he was too much occupied with Catherine'smovements to give. The men could not see the inside of the barn, or hearwhat was said there.

  "Oho!" said Romberg to Von Sungen. "Your interest in mademoiselle'swelfare betrays you. You have orders to take her back alive."

  "You have the gift of second sight, my dear Romberg," said Von Sungen,watching Catherine, who still held the phial to her lips, althoughDick's hand upon her wrist could have dashed it from her at any moment.

  "Then," said she to Von Sungen, "the instant your men approach, I willtake this poison, I swear!"

  "Therefore, Baron," put in Dick, "to prevent accident, you would betterorder your men away, while we discuss matters."

  "If your frame of mind is for discussion, I am quite willing to dothat," said Von Sungen, who himself feared that some sudden movement ofhis men might precipitate Catherine's threatened action. He turned andspoke a few words to the six, who thereupon faced about and marched backto the road, where the two mounted forces waited. Only Von Sungen as yetknew who were in the barn. He had given his followers the impressionthat his talk was with peasants who might put him on the track of thefugitives.

  "And now, mademoiselle and messieurs," said Von Sungen, "will you listento reason? You cannot fail to see how impossible is your escape fromthis place, with all those horse-guards watching from the road. Even ifyou could kill
me--"

  "We have no desire to do that," said Dick. "God knows there are fewenough kind hearts and cheerful faces in the world, as it is. But we areas determined to escape, or all to die together, as you probably are tocapture us."

  Von Sungen here stepped into the barn, but the look on Catherine's facepromptly checked him from going any nearer to her.

  "My orders are," he said, "to bring back Monsieur Wetheral andMademoiselle de St. Valier, both alive, if possible; or, if need be, thegentleman dead, but the lady alive in any event. Nothing was said ofCaptain von Romberg."

  "Nevertheless," put in that gentleman, "Captain von Romberg joins hisfate with theirs, until all are safe or dead."

  "You are sure to fail of carrying out your orders, Baron," saidCatherine. "I will never go back to Cassel alive."

  "Not even if I take on myself the risk of letting Monsieur Wetheral gofree? In that case you will save his life, as well as that of Captainvon Romberg, who seems determined to die with his friend. Moreover, youwill be saving your own life as well," said Von Sungen.

  "A man of honor like the Baron von Sungen," said Dick, with the gentlestshade of scorn and reproach, "must have a very strong motive forproposing that two other men of honor should accept their lives on theterms given."

  "It is true," replied Von Sungen, "I have a large stake in this night'sbusiness,--as great a one as yours, monsieur."

  "How can that be possible?" said Dick.

  "I will prove it to you," said Von Sungen. "I infer that you love thislady, and that your greatest wish is to preserve her from the purposesof the Landgrave. Well, I love a lady, and my dearest desire is to saveher from a marriage that would be for her a degradation as great as anywoman could feel in becoming the Landgrave's favorite. Don't tell me,monsieur, that marriage would lessen the horror of a virtuous woman'sunion with old Rothenstein. Well, the Baroness's hand is at the disposalof the Landgrave. He has hesitated whether to favor Rothenstein or yieldto my entreaties. To-night, when his highness sent me to seek you, hesaid, 'Bring Mademoiselle de St. Valier back alive, and you shall marrythe Baroness von Luderwaldt when you please. Come back withoutmademoiselle alive, and Rothenstein shall marry your Baronessto-morrow.'"

  "My poor Von Sungen!" said Dick, his ready imagination putting himselffor the moment in the place of the other, with whom his own case enabledhim perfectly to sympathize.

  "Well, monsieur," said Von Sungen, "it seems that both of us must loseour sweethearts and our lives, for if mademoiselle will not save yourlife, and enable me to save my sweetheart, I will kill myself. I wouldno more live to see her wedded to that vile old wretch, Rothenstein,than you would live to see your beloved possessed by the Landgrave. But,mademoiselle, will you not save your lover's life in spite of himself?"

  "I will not go back to the Landgrave," she said, with calm resolution.Her agreement for the saving of her brother had been made on the beliefthat her lover was dead, and before she had experienced the horribleemotions that came with a later conception of what that agreement wouldrequire of her.

  The Baron sighed in despair. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation:

  "Ach! Since for each of us it is all or death, let at least one of ushave all! You must admit, our stakes are equal or nearly so. I repeat, Ishould suffer as much from the Baroness's marriage to Rothenstein as youwould from mademoiselle's falling into the hands of the Landgrave. Solet us appeal to chance. If you win the throw, you shall both go free,you and the lady; I will go back without her, and take the consequences.But if I win, the lady shall go back with me."

  "You consider," said Dick, with a faint smile, "that even chances arepreferable to the certainty of mademoiselle's taking the poison."

  "Good God, monsieur, do you not consider likewise? Come. If you lose,you can at least die, as I shall do if I lose. It is the honor andhappiness of your sweetheart against the self-respect and happiness ofmine, the life and happiness of yourself against the life and happinessof myself. Why, if you lose, mademoiselle, too, can die, if she wishes,after I have taken her back to the Landgrave. So you are no worse offfor abandoning your position of certain destruction for us all, and forallowing chance to save one of us for happiness."

  "The issue is too important to leave to chance," said Dick, quietly."Let us determine it by skill."

  "Very well; but what game of skill have we here the means of playing?"

  "There is a game of skill that gentlemen play with swords," said Dick.

  "Excellent!" cried Von Sungen, understanding. "And the game in our casehas this advantage, it can be so played that the loser need not survivehis loss. Let it be a duel to the death, monsieur, so that theunfortunate one shall not be under the necessity of killing himself."

  "Agreed," said Dick.

  "But I will not consent," cried Catherine. "Even if you fight and lose,I will not go back to the Landgrave; I will take the poison."

  "In this cause I cannot possibly lose," said Dick, pressing her hand."Give your consent, dearest."

  She looked at his calm eyes, his unmoved countenance, his steady hands,and said, after a moment:

  "Very well."

  "Then, Baron," said Dick, "you may take measures, regarding the troopsout there, to enable us to depart unhindered when you are dead."

  "If I send them away--" Von Sungen began, but paused.

  "We give you our word of honor, we will not escape from you otherwisethan by my killing you in this fight," said Dick.

  "Captain von Romberg will not interfere?" said the Baron.

  "Not unless to prevent the intrusion of some possible third party,"answered Romberg.

  "I will return in a minute," then said Von Sungen. "You may wish to havea light while I am gone," and he handed his torch to Antoine.

  He walked down the lane to the waiting horsemen, and ordered the secondin command to lead the two forces back to a certain junction of roads."I am making some inquiries," he added, "that may help us in thissearch. Meanwhile, keep close watch on the by-road till I join you."

  The troops, puzzled but not permitted to question, rode off in thedirection of Cassel. Von Sungen, who had taken from one of them a secondtorch, now strode back to the barn with it. He found Dick ready for thecontest, for which the barn floor presented a sufficient arena. Thebaron handed the second torch to Romberg, and silently made hispreparations. The four who were to be spectators moved to where Antoinehad already led the horses, at one end of the barn floor. The torchesthrew an uneven red light on the scene, leaving the surroundings, hereobscure, and there entirely lost in shadow.

  Dick and Von Sungen faced each other, without the least hatred, indeedwith great esteem, but each determined to kill the other. The swordsclashed. The advantage in duelling experience lay strongly with VonSungen. Dick had fought only one duel, but he had recently resumedpractice with the foils under a French fencing-master at Cassel.Moreover, Von Sungen was still fully under the excitement with which hehad started on the pursuit, while with Dick this incident had beenimmediately preceded by so many scenes of danger that he could now faceanything with calmness. So he fought cautiously, at first only guardingagainst the other's impetuous attack.

  Finally the Baron's exertions began to tell upon him, and a wild thrustbetrayed either that his eye was no longer true, or that his brain hadlost perfect control of his arm. Dick felt it was now but a matter oftime that the Baron should lay himself open to a decisive lunge.

  Suddenly the barn door was flung open from the outside, and two menstepped unceremoniously in, armed with swords and pistols, and thesecond one bearing a torch.

  "Aha!" cried the first, flashing up his sword. "I thought you might bein danger!" And he ran to the aid of Von Sungen.

  "Curse you for meddling against orders!" cried the Baron, enraged atthis assistance. "Don't interfere, I command you!"

  And the fight went on, between Von Sungen and Wetheral. The Baron'sofficer, who had come back with one of the horse-guards,--on whatpretext was never known,--stepped aside, amazed. But in a few mome
ntsthis officer whispered something to the horse-guard with him, and thelatter started for the door. By this time Romberg and Antoine had bothrun past the fighters and neared the door. Antoine, unwilling to make anoise by firing a shot, thrust his torch into the departing soldier'sface, and then felled the suddenly blinded man to the floor with a blowof his pistol. The interfering officer, with a fierce oath, instantlyran his sword through Antoine's body, drawing it immediately out todefend himself against Romberg, who had lost time in finding a place forhis torch. The old servant fell dead across the soldier he had knockedsenseless, and the torches of the two blazed up from the ground. Rombergand the officer now had a rapid exchange of thrusts, the two beingevenly matched. But a sharp cry, from a few feet away, drew for aninstant the attention of the officer, and Romberg's sword, piercing hislung, stretched him on the floor near the other two prostrate bodies.

  The cry that the officer had heard was the death cry of Von Sungen, whonow lay silent and motionless at Dick's feet.

  "Poor Baroness von Luderwaldt!" said Dick, gently, wiping his sword witha wisp of hay.

  Catherine seized Dick's hand, and pressed it in silence, then ran overtowards Antoine.

  "He is quite dead," said Romberg, rising from a brief examination of theold servant's body.

  Catherine gazed at the prostrate figure a moment, with sorrowful buttearless face, and then allowed Dick to lead her to a horse.

  When Dick and Romberg, having assisted Catherine to mount, went to helpGretel, the girl refused, saying she had thought to be of assistance tomademoiselle, but had found herself only an encumbrance. Therefore, inorder that the flight should be no more delayed on her account, shewould not accompany the fugitives further, but would walk to her homenear Homberg, where she would be safe from the inquiries of theLandgrave and his officers. As the girl's resolution was not to beovercome, and as time was precious, the three went forth without her,there being now a horse for each. Catherine rode on a man's saddle, ofwhich the gentlemen hastily readjusted the stirrups so that she mightsit in feminine fashion. In leaving the barn, the men put out thetorches, and Dick possessed himself of old Antoine's loaded pistol, aswell as of his cloak, in place of which he left the scarlet one.

  The fugitives avoided, by a detour through fields, the bridge thatcrossed to Melsungen; and they continued southward along the right bankof the Fulda. Now and then they stopped to rest their horses. Dawn foundthem suffering from fatigue, but they rode on. At a farmhouse theystopped and fed their horses, also refreshing themselves with milk andeggs. At noon they arrived at the town of Fulda, having covered thesixty miles from Cassel, without change of horses and over bad roads, ineleven hours.

  On entering Fulda they gave the officer of the guard false names and aprepared story. They learned that a close watch was being kept for anofficer in a scarlet cloak; so Dick was thankful for having exchangedwith poor Antoine. The search begun yesterday had, thus, evidentlyextended as far as to Fulda. With the discovery of Von Sungen's fate,new parties would be sent in every direction. Dick was loath to losetime, but the fatigue of all three was so great that dinner and a fewhours of sleep were taken at the inn at Fulda. Four o'clock in theafternoon saw the fugitives again on the road.

  The shortest route to France was by way of Frankfort, for which citythey now made, intending to travel by night, and to give a wide berth towhatever walled towns might lie in the way. Fortunately, their horseswere of a stock characterized by great endurance.

  They had been about two hours out of Fulda, when they saw a horsemangalloping up behind them. As this cavalier himself looked backfrequently, it appeared more likely that he feared pursuit than that hewas to be feared as a pursuer. When he was quite near, Romberg criedout:

  "By God's thunder, it is the traitor, Mesmer! So they have let himescape, after all!"

  "Escape?" said Dick, with a grim kind of smile. "Do you call his fallinginto our hands an escape?" And Dick turned to go and meet the newcomer.But Catherine caught his arm, so that he had to rein up to avoiddragging her from her horse.

  "Let this be my affair," said Romberg, and immediately rode towardsMesmer, drawing his sword as he did so.

  Mesmer suddenly recognized the two gentlemen and divined Romberg'spurpose. Bringing his horse to an abrupt stop, he drew a pistol, withwhich he had in some way provided himself, and fired straight at Rombergas the latter came up. Romberg instantly tumbled from the horse to theroad, and lay still, retaining his sword in the rigid grasp of death.

  Dick gave a cry of grief and wrath, tore his arm from Catherine's hold,and galloped towards Mesmer, drawing his own pistol and firing as hewent. A shriek cleft the air, and the traitor rolled on the earth, closeto the body that he himself had bereft of life a moment ago.

  Dick quickly ascertained that both were dead, then remounted his horse,seized the bridle of Catherine's, and spurred forward. Not a word passedfor some time, both indulging in silence the emotions produced by thislatest swift tragedy. Presently Dick said, "If we should report to thenext town's authorities that those two bodies are back there in theroad, we should doubtless be detained, and all would be lost. So I shallmerely tell the first honest-looking man we meet, where the bodies lieand whose they are. My poor Romberg!"

  This plan Dick soon carried out, and, as in this case his judgment of aface was correct, the two bodies were subjected neither to robbery norto final consignment to unknown graves.

  At nightfall Dick and Catherine gave their horses rest and food at avillage hostelry, and then resumed their journey, pretending they hadlittle farther to go. But they rode all night, making what battle theycould against fatigue, and what defence their cloaks enabled them tomaintain against the cold.

  They entered Frankfort a few minutes after the gates were opened for theday. As this was a free city, it seemed likely that they were out ofdanger, although it might turn out that the Landgrave's arm could reachthem here, through his resident, as the arm of Frederick of Prussia hadreached Voltaire twenty-five years before. But it was absolutelynecessary that they should have sleep, so Dick took the risk of ridingat once to the inn called the Emperor, and ordering rooms and breakfast.As they dropped into chairs in the dining-parlor, more dead than alive,they heard an exclamation of surprise from a man they had vaguelyperceived across the table. Both, looking up at the same moment,recognized Gerard de St. Valier.

  This meeting revived the worn-out energies of Dick and Catherine, andexplanations were quickly made. Gerard, having been released fromSpangenberg some hours before the other two had left Cassel, and havingtaken at Melsungen a shorter route than that by way of Fulda, hadarrived in Frankfort late the previous night. And, a few minutes afterhis arrival, a great event had occurred. He had met at this inn alawyer's clerk, on the way from Paris to Cassel, with papers awardingat last to the St. Valiers the bequest that had been disputed in thecourts. This news made the future look rosy. It assured the St. Valiersof a moderate competency, and would make it possible for Dick to marryCatherine without fear of her being tied to destitution through anyfailure of his own to find fortune.

  It was agreed to remain at the Emperor until noon, that some hours ofsleep might be had. Then the three were to start Parisward on theirhorses, this mode of travel--no longer a common one for ladies--beingretained because it was by far the most rapid.

  When Dick and Catherine reappeared from their rooms, at the time set fortaking horse again, they met Gerard, whose face wore a look ofdisquietude.

  "I have paid the bills, and the horses are ready," he said to Dick, in alow tone. "Let us lose no time in getting out of the city and territoryof Frankfort."

  "What is the matter?" asked Dick.

  "In the street, awhile ago, I saw Wedeker, who always bears theLandgrave's important despatches, ride up, on a foaming horse, to ahouse that he almost broke his way into, he was in so great a hurry. Iasked a passer-by what house it was. It was that of the Landgrave'sFrankfort resident. Wedeker is doubtless straight from Cassel, withorders to have you held in Frankfor
t; and in a very short time, if theresident can have his way with the authorities, the city guard will beon the hunt for us."

  "Let us go, then. This running away from authorities seems to havebecome a fixed habit of mine," said Dick, giving his hand to Catherine.

  In a few minutes the three fugitives rode westward through the Mainzgate, Dick giving a sigh of relief as they emerged to the open suburbbordering the river Main.

  "Evidently no orders concerning us have yet reached the gates," he said,looking back at the stolid guard they had just passed.

  "We are not yet out of the territory appertaining to the city ofFrankfort," said Gerard.

  "And if we get out of it," said Dick, "we shall have to look out forthis Wedeker, I suppose, until the last foot of German soil is behindus."

  "Probably," replied Gerard, "but we have the start of Wedeker, and, asthe local authorities will nowhere send their troops or police out oftheir own territory, he must travel alone much of the time. If he shouldcome up to us alone, between one town and another--"

  "Some one else would subsequently have the honor of carrying theLandgrave's important despatches," put in Dick. "We ought to have takenfresh horses, Gerard. Catherine's and mine are almost run out. Theyhave done incredible service already."

  A quarter of an hour later Catherine's mount staggered, stumbled, andlay panting on its side. Its rider slid from the saddle in time toescape injury.

  Gerard and Dick came to a quick stop. "My beast is fresh," said Gerard."You'd best ride behind me."

  Dick got off his own horse, and assisted Catherine upon Gerard's. Thenhe remounted his own; but he had no sooner done so than the animal sankunder him, the last bit of strength having passed from its tremblinglimbs.

  "The deuce!" exclaimed Dick. "I imagine your beast is hardly freshenough to carry three, Gerard?"

  Gerard laughed, in spite of this setback, at the droll manner in whichDick asked this question.

  Then Dick turned his eyes back towards Frankfort, took on a peculiarsmile, and said, in the coolest and mildest of voices:

  "It is a pity,--because I see a number of soldiers or police riding outof the gate we rode through a few minutes ago."

  Gerard looked around, and turned pale. "My God!" said he. "It is thecity guard! And don't you recognize Wedeker by his uniform, with theofficer at their head?"

  Dick heaved a gentle sigh, then looked at his empty pistol and hissword. "This is an occasion for horses, not for weapons," he said, withhis former quietness. "To think that, after all the flying, thefighting, and the killing, a man should be nabbed at last, merely forwant of a fresh horse. Why do you wait, Gerard? You can easily escapewith Catherine. You must save her."

  "And leave you? Never!"

  "Well said, my brother," whispered Catherine.

  "I see yonder a kind of country inn, to judge from the horse-shed nearit," said Dick, indicating a low building a short distance ahead ontheir road.

  He started towards it afoot, followed by the two who were mounted. Whenhe reached the shed, he saw therein, to his amazement, two horses. Apeasant was in the act of giving them grain.

  "Whose animals are these, my friend?" queried Dick.

  "They belong to a soldier, mein herr, who arrived last night with theblack, and won the gray from another guest, at cards."

  "And where is this fortunate person to be found?"

  "In the house, mein herr; in the first room at the head of the stairs."

  "I'll go and try to make a bargain with him," said Dick.

  "No," said Gerard, "let me go. I am now better able to make bargainsthan you are." And he leaped off his horse and ran to the house. Hedesired that he, not Dick, should be at the expense of the purchase.

  Dick stood waiting beside Catherine, looking now into her anxious eyeswith a reassuring smile, now towards the distant troops that weresteadily drawing nearer on the road.

  Soon Gerard reappeared from the house, with a dejected face. "The fellowrefuses to sell," he said. "He sat playing a violin, and blamed me forinterrupting his music. I think we should be justified in taking one ofhis horses, in spite of him."

  "You cannot do that, mein herr," said the peasant, looking towards theinn, from which came the sounds of men gambling and drinking.

  "What sort of a man is this horse-owner?" asked Dick, not as if with anyhope, but as if duty required the last possible effort.

  "A gaunt rascal," said Gerard, "who began to answer me in French, andthen veered into a kind of Scotch-English, with an Irish phrase or two."

  A strange, wondering look came over Dick's face. "Let me try," he said,in a barely audible voice, and made hastily for the house.

  He flung open the door, rushed up the rickety stairs, and stopped beforea chamber at their head. From within came the sound of a fiddle scrapingout the tune of "Over the hills and far away."

  Dick burst into the room, crying out, "Tom MacAlister, dear old Tom, _I_am the man that wants to buy your horse!"

  * * * * *

  "'Tis no sic a vast warld, they that do a mickle travelling willdiscover," said MacAlister, as he and the three fugitives canteredwestward towards Mayence, having left the Frankfort territory, and,consequently, the Frankfort city guard, far behind them.

  The two St. Valiers rode one of Tom's horses, which were both strongerand fresher than the animal on which Gerard had come out of Frankfort.The latter beast now carried MacAlister, who had nothing to fear frombeing overtaken, and whose second horse was ridden by Wetheral. Thepiper's son had not expressed any great surprise at seeing Dick, a factexplained by him in the words already quoted.

  "I mak' nae doot your ain presence in these parts was brought aboot inthe most likely way," he continued; "and, sure, there's devil a bitextraordinary in my being here."

  He then gave account of his movements since the attack on Quebec.Exchanged, with Morgan and the other prisoners, he served under thatgallant commander in the glorious campaign of Saratoga. His term ofenlistment expiring on the very day of Burgoyne's surrender, hevoluntarily accompanied the troops that escorted the defeated Britishand Hessian army to Boston. In that town he met a Virginia Scotchman,whose people he had known in Scotland. This man, who had added the nameof Jones to that of John Paul, held the rank of captain in the newlyprojected navy of the United States of America, and was on the very eveof sailing from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in a vessel called the_Ranger_. Love of diversity impelled Tom to ship for the cruise acrossthe Atlantic. Sailing November 1, 1777, the _Ranger_ captured twoprizes, sent them to the port of Malaga, and arrived on the second ofDecember at Nantes, in the harbor of which Captain Jones caused the newflag of the United States to receive its first salute in Europeanwaters, as its white stars set in blue and its red and white stripesfluttered high above the _Ranger's_ deck. MacAlister accompanied Jonesto Paris, where he grew weary of inaction while the captain was trying,with the aid of the American commissioners, to obtain a certain finefrigate for the new navy. So Tom, in whom a returning inclination forsome more European service had begun to assert itself, started forGermany, with a thought of finding employment in the war that Frederickof Prussia had been conducting against Austria, since the first of thepresent year of 1778, over the Bavarian succession.

  "But now that I've met you," MacAlister said to Dick, "it's devil aninch further I'll gang eastward. Sure, 'tis nae self-sacrifice to turnaboot and trot back to Paris, for that war has been plodding along sin''most a year agone, and never a battle yet, for whilk I should think theKing of Prussia, auld as he is, would be ashamed,--as nae doot he is.Weel, weel, so 'tis the young lady of Quebec ye are, miss! Sure, Dickie,lad, do ye mind what I tauld ye once, aboot the wind of circumstance?"

  "Ay, Tom, but if we had left all to the wind of circumstance, we shouldnot be this moment riding free towards Paris."

  "No more ye should, lad. 'Tis one part circumstance, and three partswark and fight, that lands a man safe and sound in the snug harbors ofthis warld."

  Th
ey tarried briefly at Mayence, keeping the while an eye on the gate bywhich Wedeker would enter if he should continue his efforts. But, ifWedeker entered at all, it was after the four travellers had departedfrom the city of priests and were on their way to Birkenfeld.

  From Birkenfeld they went to Metz, where they disposed of their horsesand hired a coach and four to convey them onward by easy stages. Once onFrench ground, they breathed with perfect freedom.

  "And when ye do get to Paris, lad," asked Tom, "what then? If ye have amind to serve your country in the way of sea-fighting, we can do naebetter than seek out Captain Jones."

  "I think," was the answer, "after I see Paris,--for I never have seenit, though I have passed through it,--I would like to have a look at myown country again. But it is for others to say."

  "No," said Catherine, gently. "It is for you to say. Is it not, Gerard?"

  "When my affairs in France are settled," replied Gerard, "I am sure theother side of the Atlantic will be good enough for me."

  Verdun, Chalons, Epernay, one after another, were left behind; thenMeaux, and, at last, one cold but sunny afternoon late in December, thecoach rolled through a faubourg, passed under an arch, and rumbled alongthe Rue St. Martin, whence it was to take its passengers to a hotel inthe Rue St. Honore. But, at Dick's desire, the coachman drove first tothe Pont Neuf, and there stopped. Through the right-hand window the fourpassengers could see the Louvre and the Tuileries, as well as thebuildings at the opposite side of the Seine; through the left-handwindow they could see, above the mass of roofs and spires, the towers ofNotre Dame, flashing back the horizontal sun-rays.

  "It is like in the picture-book," said Dick, softly,--for his fancy hadlong since transfigured the stiff engravings he had studied in hischildhood. Then he turned and looked at the friendly faces within thecoach,--Gerard's, old Tom's; last of all, the face beside him, whosedark eyes met his.

  "Do you know, I was always sure," he said, "that the road to Paris wasto be my road to happiness."

  THE END.

  _SELECTIONS FROM L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S LIST OF NEW FICTION._