irs! He is capable of murdering you in some
corner of his park, and of burying you at the foot of some tree and then
of forcing Madame de Bergenheim to eat your heart fricasseed in
champagne, as they say Raoul de Coucy did."

"You will admit, at least, that it would be a very charming repast, and
that there would be nothing bourgeois about it."

"Certainly, I boast of detesting the bourgeois; I am celebrated for that;
but I should much prefer to die in a worsted nightcap, flannel underwear,
and cotton night-shirt, than to have Bergenheim assist me, too brusquely,
in this little operation. He is such an out-and-out Goliath! Just look at
him!"

And the artist forced his friend to turn about, and pointed at Christian,
who stood with the other hunters upon the brow of the hill, a few steps
from the spot where they had left him. The Baron was indeed a worthy
representative of the feudal ages, when physical strength was the only
incontestable superiority. In spite of the distance, they could hear his
clear, ringing voice although they could not distinguish his words.

"He really has a look of the times of the Round Table," said Gerfaut;
"five or six hundred years ago it would not have been very agreeable to
find one's self face to face with him in a tournament; and if to-day, as
in those times, feminine hearts were won by feats with double-edged
swords, I admit that my chances would not be very good. Fortunately, we
are emancipated from animal vigor; it is out, of fashion."

"Out of fashion, if you like; meanwhile, he will kill you."

"You do not understand the charms of danger nor the attractions that
difficulties give to pleasure. I have studied Christian thoroughly since
I have been here, and I know him as well as if I had passed my life with
him. I am also sure that, at the very first revelation, he will kill me
if he can, and I take a strange interest in knowing that I risk my life
thus. Here we are in the woods," said Gerfaut, as he dropped the artist's
arm and ceased limping; "they can no longer see us; the farce is played
out. You know what I told you to say if you join them: you left me at the
foot of a tree. You are forbidden to approach the sycamores, under
penalty of receiving the shot from my gun in your moustache."

At these words he threw the gun which had served him as crutch over his
shoulder, and darted off in the direction of the river.

CHAPTER XVIII

ESPIONAGE

At the extremity of the syc