Has anything happened?" inquired Genevi?ve, her blue eyes wide open.
"Yes--no; naught has happened. Tell me where she is. I must speak to
her."
"She was here a while ago," said Andrea, "but she left us to stroll along
the river bank."
"How long is it since she left you?"
"A quarter of an hour, perhaps."
"Something has happened!" cried Genevi?ve, and added more, maybe, but I
waited not to hear.
Muttering curses as I ran--for 't was my way to curse where pious souls
might pray--I sped back to the quadrangle and my horse.
"Follow me," I shouted to the groom, "you and as many of your fellows as
you can find. Follow me at once--at once, mark you--to the coppice by the
river." And without waiting for his answer, I sent my horse thundering
down the avenue. The sun was gone, leaving naught but a roseate streak to
tell of its passage, and at that moment a distant bell tinkled forth the
Angelus.
With whip, spur, and imprecations I plied my steed, a prey to such
excitement as I had never known until that moment--not even in the carnage
of battle.
I had no plan. My mind was a chaos of thought without a single clear idea
to light it, and I never so much as bethought me that single-handled I was
about to attempt to wrest Yvonne from the hands of perchance half a dozen
men.
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