a few handsful of straw, which
concealed him entirely.

"Farewell, then!" said the old farmer, when the last hand-shake had been
exchanged, "or rather _au revoir_, Monsieur le Baron, Madame, and you,
my good cure."

"All ready?" inquired young Poignot.

"Yes," replied the invalid.

The cart, driven with the utmost caution by the young peasant, started
slowly on its way.

Mme. d'Escorval, leaning upon the abbe's arm, walked about twenty paces
in the rear.

It was very dark, but had it been as light as day the former cure of
Sairmeuse might have encountered any of his old parishioners without the
least danger of detection.

His hair and his beard had been allowed to grow; his tonsure had
entirely disappeared, and his sedentary life had caused him to become
much stouter. He was clad like all the well-to-do peasants of the
neighborhood, and his face was hidden by a large slouch hat.

He had not felt so tranquil in mind for months. Obstacles which had
appeared almost insurmountable had vanished. In the near future he
saw the baron declared innocent by impartial judges; he saw himself
reinstalled in the presbytery of Sairmeuse.

The recollection of Maurice was the only thing that marred his
happiness. Why did he not give some sign of life?

"But if he had met with any misfortune we should have heard of it,"
thought the priest. "He has with him a brave man--an old soldier who
would risk anything to come and tell us."

He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he did not observe that Mme.
d'Escorval was leaning more and more heavily upon his arm.

"I am ashamed to confess it," she said at last, "but I can go no
farther. It has been so long since I was out of doors that I have almost
forgotten how to walk."

"Fortunately, we are almost there," replied the priest.

A moment after young Poignot stopped his cart in the road, at the
entrance of the little footpath leading to the Borderie.

"Our journey is ended!" he remarked to the baron. Then he uttered a
low whistle, like that which he had given a few hours before, to warn
Marie-Anne of his arrival.

No one appeared; he whistled again, louder this time; then with all his
might--still no response.

Mme. d'Escorval and the abbe had now overtaken the cart.

"It is very strange that Marie-Anne does not hear me," remarked young
Poignot, turning to them. "We cannot take the baron to the house until
we have seen her. She knows that very well. Shall I run up and w