ad heard the sound--which
was impossible--the man dropped down where he stood, crawled a yard or
two on his face, and disappeared.

Madame stared a moment, expecting to see him or hear him. Then, as
nothing happened, she screamed. She was a woman of quick impulses,
essentially feminine; and she screamed three or four times, standing
where she was, her eyes on the edge of the wood. "If that does not bring
her out, nothing will!" she thought.

It brought her. An instant, and the Countess appeared, and hurried in
dismay to her side.

"What is it?" the younger woman asked, glancing over her shoulder; for
all the valley, all the hills were peaceful, and behind Madame St. Lo--but
the lady had not discovered it--the servants who had returned were laying
the meal. "What is it?" she repeated anxiously.

"Who was it?" Madame St. Lo asked curtly. She was quite calm now.

"Who was--who?"

"The man in the wood?"

The Countess stared a moment, then laughed. "Only the old soldier they
call Badelon, gathering simples. Did you think that he would harm me?"

"It was not old Badelon whom I saw!" Madame St. Lo retorted. "It was a
younger man, who crept along the other side of the brook, keeping under
cover. When I first saw him he was there," she continued, pointing to
the place. "And he crept on and on until he came opposite to you. Then
he waved his hand."

"To me?"

Madame nodded.

"But if you saw him, who was he?" the Countess asked.

"I did not see his face," Madame St. Lo answered. "But he waved to you.
That I saw."

The Countess had a thought which slowly flooded her face with crimson.
Madame St. Lo saw the change, saw the tender light which on a sudden
softened the other's eyes; and the same thought occurred to her. And
having a mind to punish her companion for her reticence--for she did not
doubt that the girl knew more than she acknowledged--she proposed that
they should return and find Badelon, and learn if he had seen the man.

"Why?" Madame Tavannes asked. And she stood stubbornly, her head high.
"Why should we?"

"To clear it up," the elder woman answered mischievously. "But perhaps,
it were better to tell your husband and let his men search the coppice."

The colour left the Countess's face as quickly as it had come. For a
moment she was tongue-tied. Then--

"Have we not had enough of seeking and being sought?" she cried, more
bitterly than befitted the occasion. "Why should we hunt h