ha'n't leave us if you
are a good boy."

"Yes," said the Schoolmaster, "you shall lead me about like a poor blind
man, and say you are my son. We will get into houses in this way, and
then--ten thousand slaughters!" added the assassin with enthusiasm; "the
Chouette will assist us in making lucky hits. I will then teach that
devil of a Rodolph, who blinded me, that I am not yet quite done for. He
took away my eyesight, but he could not, did not remove my bent for
mischief. I would be the head, Tortillard the eyes, and you the
hand,--eh, Chouette? You will help me in this, won't you?"

"Am I not with you to gallows and rope, _fourline_? Didn't I, when I
left the hospital, and learnt that you had sent the 'yokel' from St.
Mande to ask for me at the ogress's--didn't I run to you at the village
directly, telling those chawbacons of labourers that I was your _rib_?"

These words of the "one-eyed's" reminded the Schoolmaster of an
unpleasant affair, and, altering his tone and language with the
Chouette, he said, in a surly tone:

"Yes, I was getting tired of being all by myself with these honest
people. After a month I could not stand it any longer; I was frightened.
So then I thought of trying to find you out; and a nice thing I did for
myself," he added, in a tone of increasing anger; "for the day after you
arrived I was robbed of the rest of the money which that devil in the
Allee des Veuves had given me. Yes, some one stole my belt full of gold
whilst I was asleep. It was only you who could have done it; and so now
I am at your mercy. Whenever I think of it, I can hardly restrain myself
from killing you on the spot--you cursed old robber, you!" and he
stepped towards the old woman.

"Look out for yourself, if you try to do any harm to the Chouette!"
cried Tortillard.

"I will smash you both--you and she--base vipers as you are!" cried the
ruffian, enraged; and, hearing the boy mumbling near him, he aimed at
him so violent a blow with his fist, as must have killed him if it had
struck him. Tortillard, as much to revenge himself as the Chouette,
picked up a stone, took aim, and struck the Schoolmaster on the
forehead. The blow was not dangerous, but very painful. The brigand grew
furious with passion, raging like a wounded bull, and, rushing forward
swiftly and at random, stumbled.

"What, break your own back?" shouted the Chouette, laughing till she
cried.

Despite the bloody ties which bound her to this monster,