knew nothing, and that it was no business of his. All that
Germain could learn was that both girl and child had started off toward
Fourche. He rushed back to Fourche. The widow and her lovers were still
away; so was Father Leonard. The maid told him that a girl and a child
had come to ask for him, but that as she did not know them, she did not
wish to let them in, and had advised them to go to Mers.

"And why did you refuse to let them in?" said Germain, angrily. "People
are very suspicious in this country, where nobody opens the door to a
neighbor."

"But you see," answered the maid, "in a house as rich as this, I
must keep my eyes open. When the master is away, I am responsible for
everything, and I cannot open the door to the first person that comes
along."

"It is a bad custom," said Germain, "and I had rather be poor than
to live in constant fear like that. Good-by to you, young woman, and
good-by to your vile country."

He made inquiries at the neighboring house. The shepherdess and child
had been seen. As the boy had left Belair suddenly, carelessly dressed,
with his blouse torn, and his little lambskin over his shoulders, and
as little Marie was necessarily poorly clad at all times, they had been
taken for beggars. People had offered them bread. The girl had accepted
a crust for the child, who was hungry, then she had walked away with him
very quickly, and had entered the forest.

Germain thought a minute, then he asked whether the farmer of Ormeaux
had not been at Fourche.

"Yes," they answered, "he passed on horseback a few seconds after the
girl."

"Was he chasing her?"

"Oh, so you understand?" answered the village publican, with a laugh.
"Certain it is that he is the devil of a fellow for running after girls.
But I don't believe that he caught her; though, after all, if he had
seen her--"

"That is enough, thank you!" And he flew rather than ran to Leonard's
stable. Throwing the saddle on the gray's back, he leaped upon it, and
set off at full gallop toward the wood of Chanteloube.

His heart beat hard with fear and anger; the sweat poured down his
forehead; he spurred the mare till the blood came, though the gray
needed no pressing when she felt herself on the road to her stable.

XIII -- The Old Woman

GERMAIN came soon to the spot where he had passed the night on the
border of the pool. The fire was smoking still. An old woman was
gathering the remnants of the wood little Marie had