Consuelo having said yes, the Chevalier gave her his arm. "If you reach the place of rendezvous before me, signora," said Karl, "you will wait for me, and will not be afraid."
"I am afraid of nothing," said Consuelo with a tone of mingled tenderness and pride, "for this gentleman protects me. But, Karl, do you run no risk?"
Karl shrugged his shoulders, and kissed Consuelo's hand. He then began to fix his horse, and our heroine set out across the country with her silent protector.
The weather became worse and worse. The wind began to blow more violently, and our two fugitives walked for about half an hour, sometimes across the briars, and then across the tall grass. At last the rain became violent. Consuelo, as yet, had not said a word to her companion, but seeing him uneasy about her, and looking for a shelter, she said, "Do not be afraid on my account, Monsieur. I am strong, and only suffer from seeing you exposed to such fatigue and care for a person who is nothing to you, and for whom you do not care."
The stranger made a gesture of joy at the sight of a ruined house, in one corner of which he contrived to shelter his companion from the torrents of rain. The roof had been taken away and the space sheltered by the masonry was so small, that unless he stood close to Consuelo, the stranger was forced to receive all the rain. He, however, respected her condition, and went so far away as to banish all fear. Consuelo, however, would not consent to accept his self-denial. She called him, and seeing that he would not come, left her shelter, and said, in a tone she sought to make joyous, "Every one has his turn, Chevalier. I now will soak for a time. If you will not share with me, take a shelter yourself."
The Chevalier wished to lead Consuelo back to the place about which this amicable contest occurred. She resisted, however, and said, "No, I will not yield. I see that I offended you to-day, by expressing a wish to leave you at the frontier. I will atone for my offence at the expense of a severe cold even."
The Chevalier yielded, and sheltered himself. Consuelo, seeing that she owed him reparation, came to his side, though she was humbled at the idea of having to make advances to him. She had rather seem volatile than ungrateful, and, as an expiation of her fault, resolved to be submissive. The stranger understood this so well, that he stood as far from her as the small space they occupied would permit, and it was only two or three feet square. Leaning against the wall, he pretended to look away, lest he should annoy and trouble her by his anxiety. Consuelo was amazed that a man sentenced to silence, and who inflicted this punishment to a degree on himself, should divine and understand her so well. Every moment augmented her esteem for him, and this strange feeling made her heart beat so, that it was with great difficulty that she could breathe the air this man, who so strangely sympathised with her, inhaled.