be cleared.

They rode on in silence. No one had a mind to speak, and the mournful
soughing of the wind in the pine-trees seemed to check the words on
every lip. The dull thud of hoofs in the soft road, the clang of steel
bits and buckles, the snorting of the horses alone answered the wind,
and also the monotonous creaking of the wheels ploughing through the
ruts.

Soon the ruddy glow in the west faded into soft-toned purple and then
into grey; finally that too vanished. Darkness was drawing in on
every side like a wide, black mantle pulled together closer and closer
overhead by invisible giant hands.

The rain still fell in a thin drizzle that soaked through caps and
coats, made the bridles slimy and the saddles slippery and damp. A veil
of vapour hung over the horses' cruppers, and was rendered fuller and
thicker every moment with the breath that came from their nostrils. The
wind no longer blew with gusty fury--its strength seemed to have been
spent with the grey light of day--but now and then it would still come
sweeping across the open country, and dash itself upon the wall of
forest trees, lashing against the horses' ears, catching the corner of
a mantle here, an ill-adjusted cap there, and wreaking its mischievous
freak for a while, then with a sigh of satisfaction die, murmuring among
the pines.

Suddenly there was a halt, much shouting, a volley of oaths from the
drivers, and citizen Chauvelin thrust his head out of the carriage
window.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The scouts, citizen," replied the sergeant, who had been riding close
to the coach door all this while; "they have returned."

"Tell one man to come straight to me and report."

Marguerite sat quite still. Indeed, she had almost ceased to live
momentarily, for her spirit was absent from her body, which felt neither
fatigue, nor cold, nor pain. But she heard the snorting of the horse
close by as its rider pulled him up sharply beside the carriage door.

"Well?" said Chauvelin curtly.

"This is the cross-road, citizen," replied the man; "it strikes straight
into the wood, and the hamlet of Le Crocq lies down in the valley on the
right."

"Did you follow the road in the wood?"

"Yes, citizen. About two leagues from here there is a clearing with a
small stone chapel, more like a large shrine, nestling among the trees.
Opposite to it the angle of a high wall with large wrought-iron gates at
the corner, and from these a wide drive leads throu