tell you that she is a
shepherdess whom I engaged for a year, before I knew her. When I saw
her, she looked too young and frail to work on the farm. I thanked her,
but I wished to pay the expenses of her short journey, and while my back
was turned, she went off in a huff. She was in such a hurry that she
forgot even some of her belongings and her purse, which has certainly
not much in it, probably but a few pennies; but since I was going in
this direction, I hoped to meet her, and give her back the things which
she left behind, as well as what I owe her."

Germain had too honest a heart not to pause at hearing a story which,
however unlikely, was not impossible. He fastened his penetrating gaze
on the farmer, who submitted to the examination with a plentiful supply
of impudence or of good faith.

"I wish to get at the bottom of this matter," said Germain; "and,"
continued he, suppressing his indignation, "the girl lives in my
village. I know her. She can't be far away. Let 's ride on together; we
shall find her, no doubt."

"You are right," said the farmer; "let's move on; but if we do not find
her before we reach the end of this road, I shall give up, for I must
turn off toward Ardentes."

"Oh, oh!" thought the peasant, "I shall not part with you, even if I
have to follow you around the 'Devil's Pool for twenty-four hours."

"Stop," said Germain suddenly, fixing his eyes on a clump of broom which
waved in a peculiar manner. "Halloa! halloa! Petit Pierre, is that you,
my child?"

The boy recognized his father's voice, and came out from the broom
leaping like a young deer; but when he saw Germain in company with the
farmer, he stopped dismayed, and stood irresolute. "Come, my Pierre,
come. It is I," cried the husbandman, as he leaped from his horse and
ran toward his boy to take him in his arms; "and where is little Marie?"

"She is hiding there, because she is afraid of that dreadful black man,
and so am I."

"You need n't be afraid. I am here. Marie, Marie. It is I."

Marie crept toward them, but the moment she saw Germain with the farmer
close behind, she sprang forward, and throwing herself into his arms,
clung to him as a daughter to her father.

"Oh, my brave Germain!" she cried, "you will defend me. I am not afraid
when you are near."

Germain shuddered. He looked at Marie. She was pale; her clothes were
torn by the thorns which had scratched her as she passed, rushing toward
the brake like a stag ch