Christine rode alone. Every inch of the way had some memory for her. Here she had glanced at the priest riding so silently beside her and had wondered whether he was a man of honor or a scoundrel. Here was the forest where danger had awaited them; even now the sunlight gleamed at the end of the long road, dimmed by over-arching trees, showing where the fateful clearing lay. The leading soldiers trotted into it and across it; no robbers rushed out to stop them to-day. Maurice and Lucille rode into it, and Christine saw him point to one of the roads, as he told Lucille how he and Roger Herrick, who was now the Duke, had ridden together as they escaped from their enemies.
"He saved my life that day."
"I am glad," the girl said simply, perhaps hardly realizing how glad she was. And side by side they rode on into the forest beyond the clearing.
As she came into the sunlight Christine checked her horse, and Lemasle, who rode a few paces behind her, came to her side.
"We know this place, Captain Lemasle."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"I can people it again as it was that day," said Christine.
"I am glad that only your fancy does so," returned Lemasle.
"I thought you loved fighting, captain. Surely I have heard it said of you?"