Mauprat
"I swear," said Edmée, "to be no man's before being yours."
"That is not it. Swear to be mine before being any other's."
"It is the same thing," she answered. "Yes; I swear it."
"On the gospel? On the name of Christ? By the salvation of your soul? By the memory of your mother?"
"On the gospel; in the name of Christ; by the salvation of my soul; by the memory of my mother."
"Good."
"One moment," she rejoined; "I want you to swear that my promise and its fulfilment shall remain a secret; that my father shall never know it, or any person who might tell him."
"No one in the world shall hear it from me. Why should I want others to know, provided only that you keep your word?"
She made me repeat the formula of an oath. Then we hurried forth into the open, holding each other's hands as a sign of mutual trust.
But now our flight became dangerous. Edmée feared the besiegers almost as much as the besieged. We were fortunate enough not to meet any. Still, it was by no means easy to move quickly. The night was so dark that we were continually running against trees, and the ground was so slippery that we were unable to avoid falls. A sudden noise made us start; but, from the rattle of the chain fixed on its foot, I immediately recognised my grandfather's horse, an animal of an extraordinary age, but still strong and spirited. It was the very horse that had brought me to Roche-Mauprat ten years before.
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