d cried:

"If you try to shut me up there, whether it is mother, brother, or
Calabash, so much the worse. I shall strike, and the hatchet cuts."

Nicholas felt as the widow did the pressing necessity there was to
prevent the two children from going to Martial's succour whilst the
house was left to itself, as well as to put them out of the way of
seeing the scenes which were about to pass, for their window looked onto
the river in which they were about to drown Fleur-de-Marie. But Nicholas
was as cowardly as he was ferocious, and, afraid of receiving a blow
from the dangerous hatchet with which his young brother was armed,
hesitated to approach him. The widow, angry at his hesitation, pushed
him towards Francois; but Nicholas, again retreating, exclaimed:

"But, mother, if he cuts me? You know I want all my arms and fingers at
this time, and I feel still the thump that brute Martial gave me."

The widow shrugged her shoulders, and advanced towards Francois.

"Don't come near me, mother," shrieked the boy in a fury, "or you'll pay
dear for all the beatings you have given me and Amandine!"

"Let 'em shut us up; don't strike mother!" cried Amandine, in fear.

At this moment Nicholas saw upon a chair a large blanket which he used
to wrap his booty in at times, and, taking hold of and partly unfolding
it, he threw it completely over Francois's head, who, in spite of his
efforts, finding himself entangled under its folds, could not make use
of his weapon. Nicholas then seized hold of him, and, with his mother's
help, carried him into the cellar. Amandine had continued kneeling in
the centre of the kitchen, and, as soon as she saw her brother overcome,
she sprang up and, in spite of her fright, went to join him in the dark
hole. The door was then double-locked on the brother and sister.

"It will still be that infernal Martial's fault, if these children
behave in this outrageous manner to us," said Nicholas.

"Nothing has been heard in his room since this morning," said the
widow, with a pensive air, and she shuddered, "nothing!"

"That's a sign, mother, that you were right to say to Pere Ferot, the
fisherman at Asnieres, that Martial had been so dangerously ill as to be
confined to his bed for the last two days; for now, when all is known,
it will not astonish anybody."

After a moment's silence, as and if she wished to escape a painful
thought, the widow replied, suddenly:

"Didn't the Chouette come here whilst I