rejoining you there."

Julie set out. She took her maid with her, and the old soldier
galloped beside the carriage as escort. At nightfall, as they changed
horses for the last stage before Blois, Julie grew uneasy. All the way
from Amboise she had heard the sound of wheels behind them, a carriage
following hers had kept at the same distance. She stood on the step
and looked out to see who her traveling companions might be, and in
the moonlight saw Arthur standing three paces away, gazing fixedly at
the chaise which contained her. Again their eyes met. The Countess
hastily flung herself back in her seat, but a feeling of dread set her
pulses throbbing. It seemed to her, as to most innocent and
inexperienced young wives, that she was herself to blame for this love
which she had all unwittingly inspired. With this thought came an
instinctive terror, perhaps a sense of her own helplessness before
aggressive audacity. One of a man's strongest weapons is the terrible
power of compelling a woman to think of him when her naturally lively
imagination takes alarm or offence at the thought that she is
followed.

The Countess bethought herself of her aunt's advice, and made up her
mind that she would not stir from her place during the rest of the
journey; but every time the horses were changed she heard the
Englishman pacing round the two carriages, and again upon the road
heard the importunate sound of the wheels of his caleche. Julie soon
began to think that, when once reunited to her husband, Victor would
know how to defend her against this singular persecution.

"Yet suppose that in spite of everything, this young man does not love
me?" This was the thought that came last of all.