he sound of the horses' feet as they galloped on was heard for some
time on the hard and frozen ground, and by degrees grew fainter, then
were no longer heard, and all was once more hushed in silence.
Tortillard breathed again. Desirous of encouraging and warning his
accomplices, one of whom, the Schoolmaster, was concealed from the
horsemen, Bras Rouge's son called out:

"Granny! granny! here I am! with the good lady who is coming to help
you!"

"Quick, quick, my boy! The gentleman on horseback has made us lose some
time," said the Goualeuse, walking at a quicker pace, that she might
reach the turning into the hollow way.

She had scarcely entered it when the Chouette, who was hidden there,
exclaimed:

"Now then, _fourline_!"

Then springing upon the Goualeuse, the one-eyed hag seized her by the
neck with one hand, whilst with the other she pressed her mouth; and
Tortillard, throwing himself at the young girl's feet, clung round her
legs, that she might not be able to stir.

This took place so rapidly that the Chouette had no time to examine the
Goualeuse's features; but during the few instants it required for the
Schoolmaster to quit the hole in which he was ensconced, to grope his
way along with his cloak, the beldame recognised her old victim.

"La Pegriotte!" she exclaimed, in great surprise. Then adding with
savage delight, "What, is it you? Ah, the baker (the devil) sends you!
It is your fate, then, to fall into my clutches! I have my vitriol in
the _fiacre_ now, and your white skin shall have a touch, miss; for it
makes me sick to see your fine lady countenance. Come, my man, mind she
don't bite; and hold her tight whilst we bundle her up."

The Schoolmaster seized the Goualeuse in his two powerful hands, and
before she could utter a cry the Chouette threw the cloak over her head,
and wrapped her up in it, tightly and securely. In a moment,
Fleur-de-Marie, tied and enveloped, was without any power to move or
call for assistance.

"Now take up your parcel, _fourline_," said the Chouette. "He, he, he!
This is not such a load as the 'black peter' of the woman who was
drowned in the Canal of St. Martin---is it, my man?" And as the brigand
shuddered at these words, which reminded him of his fearful vision, the
one-eyed hag resumed, "Well, well, what ails you, _fourline_? Why, you
seem frozen! Ever since the morning your teeth chatter as if you had the
ague; and you look in the air as if you were looking fo