e Chouette had gone to that part of the hollow way which
was the most remote from the path, and nearest to the cross-road where
Barbillon was waiting with the hackney-coach. Tortillard, who was posted
as an advanced guard, watched for the return of Fleur-de-Marie, whom he
was desirous of drawing into the trap by begging her to come to the
assistance of a poor old woman. The son of Bras Rouge had advanced a few
steps out of the ravine to try and discern Marie, when he heard the
Goualeuse some way off speaking to the peasant girl who accompanied her.
The plan had failed; and Tortillard quickly went down into the ravine to
run and inform the Chouette.

"There is somebody with the young girl," said he, in a low and
breathless tone.

"May the hangman squeeze her weasand, the little beggar," exclaimed the
Chouette in a rage.

"Who's with her?" asked the Schoolmaster.

"Oh, no doubt, the country wench who passed along the road just now,
followed by a large dog. I heard a woman's voice," said Tortillard.
"Hark!--do you hear? There's the noise of their sabots," and, in the
silence of the night, the wooden soles sounded clearly on the ground
hardened by the frost.

"There are two of 'em. I can manage the young 'un in the gray mantle,
but what can we do with t'other? _Fourline_ can't see, and Tortillard
is too weak to do for the companion--devil choke her! What can be done?"
asked the Chouette.

"I'm not strong, but, if you like, I'll cling to the legs of the
country-woman with the dog. I'll hold on by hands and teeth, and not let
her go, I can tell you. You can take away the little one in the
meantime, you know, Chouette."

"If they cry or resist, they will hear them at the farm," replied the
Chouette, "and come to their assistance before we can reach Barbillon's
coach. It is no easy thing to carry off a woman who resists."

"And they have a large dog with them," said Tortillard.

"Bah! bah! If it was only that, I could break the brute's skull with a
blow of my shoe-heel," said the Chouette.

"Here they are," replied Tortillard, who was listening still to the echo
of their footsteps. "They are coming down the hollow now."

"Why don't you speak, _fourline_?" said the Chouette to the
Schoolmaster. "What is best to be done, long-headed as you are, eh? Are
you grown dumb?"

"There's nothing to be done to-day," replied the miscreant.

"And the thousand 'bob' of the man in mourning," said the Chouette;
"they are gone,