our company, too. They mostly go together, women and trouble; and the
prettier the women are, the greater the trouble, that's my experience.
There's just one question in my mind: on which side are we ranged--with
the people or with the aristocrats?"

"With the people. Once this woman is in Paris, I----"

Seth looked at him, waiting for the completion of the sentence. It
remained unfinished.

"A wise pause, Master Richard. Who can tell what may happen in Paris?
Indeed, we may never reach Paris. At dawn, you said. That gives little
time for rest. In these hills the sun gets up early."

Dim twilight was on all the plain, darkness in the wood, when Richard
Barrington and Seth tied their horses to a tree and awaited the coming
of Jeanne St. Clair at the wood end. Ever the first to catch the fire
from the upcoming day, the summits of the great double mountain which
dominated the country blushed a faint rose color which each instant
glowed brighter and clearer, and then peak after peak was caught by the
same rose flush, and light, like a gracious benediction, fell slowly
into valley and gorge, while myriad shades of color pulsated into new
life in earth and sky. The two men watched this magic beauty of the dawn
in silence. So wondrous was it, so majestic, so far beyond the schemes
and thoughts of insignificant man, that it was almost impossible not to
see in it some portent, something of promise or warning. Even Seth,
practical and farseeing as he was, forgot the actualities of life for a
little space, while Richard's dreams took flight into that upper world
of rosy flame and forgot the deep valleys, dark with difficulty and
danger. This new day which was being born was perfect, with a beauty his