rier day in the convent than this, in the free
sun and air, with the feeling of liberty, and unbounded hopes founded
on this first success. She told her beads diligently, trusting that the
tale of devotions for her husband's spirit would be equally made up in
the field as in the church, and intently all day were her ears and
eyes on the alert. Once Lucette visited her, to bring her a basin of
porridge, and to tell her that all the world at the convent was in
confusion, that messengers had been sent out in all directions, and that
M. le Chevalier had ridden out himself in pursuit; but they should soon
hear all about it, for Martin was pretending to be amongst the busiest,
and he would know how to turn them away. Again, much later in the day,
Martin came striding across the field, and had just reached her, as she
sat in the hedgerow, when the great dog who followed him pricked his
ears, and a tramping and jingling was audible in the distance in the
lane. Eustacie held up her finger, her eyes dilating.

'It must be M. le Chevalier returning. Madame must wait a little longer.
I must be at home, or they may send out to seek me here, and that
would be ruin. I will return as soon as it is safe, if Madame will hide
herself in the hedgerow.'

Into the hedgerow accordingly crept Eustacie, cowering close to
a holly-tree at the very summit of the bank, and led by a strange
fascination to choose a spot where, unseen herself, she could gaze down
on the party who came clanking along the hollow road beneath. Nearer,
nearer, they came; and she shuddered with more of passion than of fear,
as she beheld, not only her uncle in his best well-preserved green suit,
but Narcisse, muddy with riding, though in his court braveries. Suddenly
they came to a halt close beneath her! Was she detected? Ah! just below
was the spot where the road to the convent parted from the road to the
farm; and, as Martin had apprehended, they were stopping for him. The
Chevalier ordered one of the armed men behind him to ride up to the
farm and summon Martin to speak with him; and then he and his son, while
waiting under the holly-bush, continued their conversation.

'So that is the state of things! A fine overthrow!' quoth Narcisse.

'Bah! not at all. She will soon be in our hands again. I have spoken
with, or written to, every governor of the cities she must pass through,
and not one will abet the little runaway. At the first barrier she is
ours.'

'_Et puis_