Throwing a big shawl over her head, which quite
concealed her figure, she noiselessly made her way downstairs, and out
into the snowy street, passing, as she went, close under the lighted
windows of the parlor, whence came the sound of the voices and
laughter of guests who, no doubt, were already wondering at her
absence.
Thanks to the amount of travel of late weeks, the snow in the street
had been trodden to a passable condition. But blinded by the darkness
every now and then, with a gasp and a flounder, she would step out of
the path into the deep snow on either side, and once hearing a sleigh
coming along, she had to plunge into a drift nearly as high as her
waist, and stand there till the vehicle had passed, with the snow
freezing her ankles, and also ruining, as she well knew, her lovely
morocco shoes. Suddenly a tall figure loomed up close before her,
there was a rattle of accoutrements, and a rough voice said sharply:
"Halt!"
She stopped, all in a tremble. She had quite forgotten that the
streets were now-a-days guarded by regular lines of sentries.
"Advance and give the countersign," said the soldier.
At first she gave herself quite up for lost. Then she remembered that
by the merest chance in the world she knew the countersign for that
night.
Pages:
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417