then? I'd sooner--Your knife--your knife, _fourline_! I
will stick the companion, that she may be no trouble to us; and, as to
the young miss, Tortillard and I can make off with her."

"But the man in mourning does not desire that we should kill any one."

"Well, then, we must put the cold meat down as an extra in his bill. He
must pay, for he will be an accomplice with us."

"Here they come--down the hill," said Tortillard, softly.

"Your knife, lad!" said the Chouette, in a similar tone.

"Ah, Chouette," cried Tortillard, in alarm, and extending his hands to
the hag, "that is too bad--to kill. No!--oh, no!"

"Your knife, I tell you!" repeated the Chouette, in an undertone,
without paying the least attention to Tortillard's supplication, and
putting her shoes off hastily. "I have taken off my shoes," she added,
"that I may steal on them quietly from behind. It is almost dark; but I
can easily make out the little one by her cloak, and I will do for the
other."

"No," said the felon; "to-day it is useless. There will be plenty of
time to-morrow."

"What! you're afraid, old patterer, are you?" said the Chouette, with
fierce contempt.

"Not at all," replied the Schoolmaster. "But you may fail in your blow
and spoil all."

The dog which accompanied the country-woman, scenting the persons hidden
in the hollow road, stopped short, and barked furiously, refusing to
come to Fleur-de-Marie, who called him frequently.

"Do you hear their dog? Here they are! Your knife!--or, if not--" cried
the Chouette, with a threatening air.

"Come and take it from me, then--by force," said the Schoolmaster.

"It's all over--it's too late," added the Chouette, after listening for
a moment attentively; "they have gone by. You shall pay for that,
gallows-bird," added she, furiously, shaking her fist at her accomplice.
"A thousand francs lost by your stupidity!"

"A thousand--two thousand--perhaps three thousand gained," replied the
Schoolmaster, in a tone of authority. "Listen, Chouette! Do you go back
to Barbillon, and let him drive you to the place where you were to meet
the man in mourning. Tell him that it was impossible to do anything
to-day, but that to-morrow she shall be carried off. The young girl goes
every evening to walk home with the priest, and it was only a chance
which to-day led her to meet with any one. To-morrow we shall have a
more secure opportunity. So to-morrow do you return and be with
Barbillon at the cro