e stony paths; but when they died gradually
away in the distance, when nothing could be heard save the monotonous
trill of the grasshoppers basking in the sun, she threw herself down on
the green heap of rubbish; she covered her face with her hands and gave
way to a passionate outburst of tears and sobs.

In the meanwhile, Julien de Buxieres, angry with himself, irritated
by the speedy success of his mission, was losing his way among the
pasturages, and getting entangled in the thickets. All the details of
the interview presented themselves before his mind with remorseless
clearness. He seemed more lonely, more unfortunate, more disgusted with
himself and with all else than he ever had been before. Ashamed of
the wretched part he had just been enacting, he felt almost childish
repugnance to returning to Vivey, and tried to pick out the paths that
would take him there by the longest way. But he was not sufficiently
accustomed to laying out a route for himself, and when he thought he had
a league farther to go, and had just leaped over an intervening hedge,
the pointed roofs of the chateau appeared before him at a distance of
not more than a hundred feet, and at one of the windows on the
first floor he could distinguish Claudet, leaning for ward, as if to
interrogate him.

He remembered then the promise he had made the young huntsman; and
faithful to his word, although with rage and bitterness in his heart, he
raised his hat, and with effort, waved it three times above his head.
At this signal, the forerunner of good news, Claudet replied by a
triumphant shout, and disappeared from the window. A moment later,
Julien heard the noise of furious galloping down the enclosures of
the park. It was the lover, hastening to learn the particulars of the
interview.

BOOK 3.

CHAPTER VII. THE STRANGE, DARK SECRET

Julien had once entertained the hope that Claudet's marriage with Reine
would act as a kind of heroic remedy for the cure of his unfortunate
passion, he very soon perceived that he had been wofully mistaken.
As soon as he had informed the grand chasserot of the success of his
undertaking, he became aware that his own burden was considerably
heavier. Certainly it had been easier for him to bear uncertainty than
the boisterous rapture evinced by his fortunate rival. His jealousy rose
against it, and that was all. Now that he had torn from Reine the avowal
of her love for Claudet, he was more than ever oppres