ike death.

"Ah well!" said Maurice with a gesture of disappointment, "'twill be
to-morrow morning."

He had left the window open, and Father Fouchard, seizing his gun,
straddled the sill and stepped outside, as lightly as a young man. For
a time they could hear his tramp upon the road, as regular as that of a
sentry pacing his beat, but presently it ceased and the only sound that
reached their ears was the distant clamor on the crowded bridge; it must
be that he had seated himself by the wayside, where he could watch for
approaching danger and at slightest sign leap to defend his property.

Honore's anxiety meantime was momentarily increasing; his eyes were
fixed constantly on the clock. It was less than four miles from Raucourt
to Remilly, an easy hour's walk for a woman as young and strong as
Silvine. Why had she not returned in all that time since the old man
lost sight of her in the confusion? He thought of the disorder of a
retreating army corps, spreading over the country and blocking the
roads; some accident must certainly have happened, and he pictured her
in distress, wandering among the lonely fields, trampled under foot by
the horsemen.

But suddenly the three men rose to their feet, moved by a common
impulse. There was a sound of rapid steps coming up the road and the old
man was heard to cock his weapon.

"Who goes there?" he shouted. "Is it you, Silvine?"

There was no reply. He repeated his question, threatening to fire. Then
a laboring, breathless voice managed to articulate:

"Yes, yes, Father Fouchard; it is I." And she quickly asked: "And
Charlot?"

"He is abed and asleep."

"That is well! Thanks."

There was no longer cause for her to hasten; she gave utterance to
a deep-drawn sigh, as if to rid herself of her burden of fatigue and
distress.

"Go in by the window," said Fouchard. "There is company in there."

She was greatly agitated when, leaping lightly into the room, she beheld
the three men. In the uncertain candle-light she gave the impression
of being very dark, with thick black hair and a pair of large, fine,
lustrous eyes, the chief adornment of a small oval face, strong by
reason of its tranquil resignation. The sudden meeting with Honore had
sent all the blood rushing from her heart to her cheeks; and yet she was
hardly surprised to find him there; he had been in her thoughts all the
way home from Raucourt.

He, trembling with agitation, his heart in his throat, spoke with