eeble reports were heard, followed by an
imprecation from Monsieur de Camier, whose caps flashed in the pan. The
Baron, who had just leaned forward that he might see better through the
thicket, raised his hand to warn Octave to hold himself in readiness. He
then placed himself in position. An extreme indecision marked Gerfaut's
attitude. After raising his gun, he dropped it to the ground with a
despondent gesture, as if his resolution to fire had suddenly abandoned
him; the pallor of death could not be more terrible than that which
overspread his features. The howling of the dogs and shouts of the
hunters increased. Suddenly another sound was heard. Low, deep growls,
followed by the crackling of branches, came from the woods opposite our
adversaries. The whole thicket seemed to tremble as if agitated by a
storm.

"Take care!" exclaimed Bergenheim, in a firm voice.

At the same moment an enormous head appeared, and the report of a gun
was heard. When Gerfaut looked through the smoke caused by his gun, at
the farther end of the ditch, nothing was to be seen but the foliage.

The boar, after crossing the clearing, vanished like a flash, leaving
behind him a trail of broken branches--and Bergenheim lay behind the
trunk of the old oak, upon which large drops of blood had already
fallen.

CHAPTER XXVI. BERGENHEIM'S REVENGE

On the same morning the drawing-room of the Bergenheim castle was the
theatre of a quiet home scene very much like the one we described at the
beginning of this story. Mademoiselle de Corandeuil was seated in her
armchair reading the periodicals which had just arrived; Aline was
practising upon the piano, and her sister-in-law was seated before one
of the windows embroidering. By the calm attitude of these three ladies,
and the interest they seemed to show in their several occupations, one
would have supposed that they were all equally peaceful at heart. Madame
de Bergenheim, upon rising, had resumed her usual habits; she managed
to find the proper words to reply when spoken to, her dejection did not
differ from her usual melancholy enough for it to become the subject of
remark. A rather bright color in her cheeks heightened her beauty; her
eyes never had sparkled with more brilliancy; but if a hand had been
placed upon her forehead, one would have soon discovered by its burning
the secret of all this unwonted color. In fact, in the midst of
this sumptuous room, surrounded by her friends, and be