r.

"Then you were not playing?" said the abbe with a searching look at La
Pechina.

"Don't fret her," interposed the countess; "let us return to the
pavilion."

Genevieve, though quite exhausted, found strength under Michaud's eyes
to walk. The countess followed the bailiff through one of the by-paths
known to keepers and poachers where only two can go abreast, and which
led to the gate of the Avonne.

"Michaud," said the countess when they reached the depth of the wood,
"We must find some way of ridding the neighborhood of such vile people;
that child is actually in danger of death."

"In the first place," replied Michaud, "Genevieve shall not leave the
pavilion. My wife will be glad to take the nephew of Vatel, who has the
care of the park roads, into the house. With Gounod (that is his name)
and old Cornevin, my wife's foster-father, always at hand, La Pechina
need never go out without a protector."

"I will tell Monsieur to make up this extra expense to you," said the
countess. "But this does not rid us of that Nicolas. How can we manage
that?"

"The means are easy and right at hand," answered Michaud. "Nicolas is to
appear very soon before the court of appeals on the draft. The general,
instead of asking for his release, as the Tonsards expect, has only to
advise his being sent to the army--"

"If necessary, I will go myself," said the countess, "and see my cousin,
de Casteran, the prefect. But until then, I tremble for that child--"

The words were said at the end of the path close to the open space by
the bridge. As they reached the edge of the bank the countess gave a
cry; Michaud advanced to help her, thinking she had struck her foot
against a stone; but he shuddered at the sight that met his eyes.

Marie Tonsard and Bonnebault, seated below the bank, seemed to be
conversing, but were no doubt hiding there to hear what passed.
Evidently they had left the wood as the party advanced towards them.

Bonnebault, a tall, wiry fellow, had lately returned to Conches after
six years' service in the cavalry, with a permanent discharge due to
his evil conduct,--his example being likely to ruin better men. He wore
moustachios and a small chin-tuft; a peculiarity which, joined to his
military carriage, made him the reigning fancy of all the girls in the
valley. His hair, in common with that of other soldiers, was cut very
short behind, but he frizzed it on the top of his head, brushing up the
ends with a dand