arated me from you. You followed the rest of our
pack; but some one had forestalled me. I heard the howls of my dogs
under the lash of a whip; I redoubled my pace, and found the Baron de
Caradec striking them. I told you there were causes of dislike between
us, which only needed an opportunity to burst out. I asked him why he
struck my dogs. His reply was haughtier than my question. We were
alone--we were both twenty years of age--we were rivals--each was armed.
We drew our knives--threw ourselves one upon the other, and Caradec fell
from his horse, pierced through the body. To tell you what I felt when I
saw him, bleeding and writhing in agony, would be impossible; I spurred
my horse, and darted through the forest like a madman.

"I heard the voices of the hunters, and I arrived, one of the first, but
I remember--do you remember it, Montlouis?--that you asked me why I was
so pale."

"I do," said Montlouis.

"Then I remembered the advice of the sorceress, and reproached myself
bitterly for neglecting it. This solitary and fatal duel seemed to me
like an assassination. Nantes and its environs became insupportable to
me, for every day I heard of the murder of Caradec. It is true that no
one suspected me, but the secret voice of my conscience spoke so loud
that twenty times I was on the point of denouncing myself.

"Then I left Nantes and went to Paris, but not until I had searched for
the sorceress; not knowing either her name or her residence, I could not
find her."

"It is strange," said Talhouet; "and have you ever seen her since?"

"Wait," said Pontcalec, "and listen, for now comes the terrible part.
This winter--or rather last autumn--I say winter, because there was snow
falling, though it was only in November--I was returning from Guer, and
had ordered a halt at Pontcalec-des-Aulnes, after a day during which I
had been shooting snipes in the marshes with two of my tenants. We
arrived, benumbed with cold, at the rendezvous, and found a good fire
and supper awaiting us.

"As I entered, and received the salutations and compliments of my
people, I perceived in the chimney-corner an old woman wrapped in a
large gray-and-black cloak, who appeared to be asleep.

"'Who is that?' I asked of the farmer, and trembling involuntarily.

"'An old beggar, whom I do not know, and she looks like a witch,' said
he; 'but she was perishing with cold, hunger and fatigue. She came
begging; I told her to come in, and gave her a p