he said, pointing to the foliage of
a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate.

"She! who?"

"How can I tell?" replied Monsieur d'Albon. "A strange woman rose up
there, just before me," he said in a low voice; "she seemed to come from
the world of shades rather than from the land of the living. She is so
slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her face was as
white as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. She looked
at me as she flitted by, and though I may say I'm no coward, that cold
immovable look froze the blood in my veins."

"Is she pretty?" asked Philippe.

"I don't know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that face."

"Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!" cried the colonel.
"Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter that
singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and the red
lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn't the place look to you as if it
belonged to the devil?--perhaps he inherited it from the monks. Come,
let us pursue the black and white lady--forward, march!" cried Philippe,
with forced gaiety.

At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was something like
that of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a few
shrubs sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking wave. In
vain they listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and kept the
secret of those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved at all.

"It is very singular!" said Philippe, as they skirted the park wall.

The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which led to the
village of Chauvry. After following this path some way toward the main
road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to the principal
facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side the dilapidation and
disorder of the premises had reached their height. Immense cracks
furrowed the walls of the house, which was built on three sides of
a square. Fragments of tiles and slates lying on the ground, and the
dilapidated condition of the roofs, were evidence of a total want of
care on the part of the owners. The fruit had fallen from the trees and
lay rotting on the ground; a cow was feeding on the lawn and treading
down the flowers in the borders, while a goat browsed on the shoots of
the vines and munched the unripe grapes.

"Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized," said the
colonel, pulling the chain of a bel