ctim like a heavy bundle.
Marie, her head and hair hanging back, turned her eyes to the lake; but
held as she was in a grasp of iron she was forced to follow the Chouan,
who turned now and then to hasten her steps, and each time that he did
so a jovial thought brought a hideous smile upon his face.

"Isn't she a morsel!" he cried, with a coarse laugh.

Hearing the words, Francine recovered speech.

"Pierre?"

"Well, what?"

"He'll kill her."

"Not at once."

"Then she'll kill herself, she will never submit; and if she dies I
shall die too."

"Then you love her too much, and she shall die," said Marche-a-Terre.

"Pierre! if we are rich and happy we owe it all to her; but, whether or
no, you promised me to save her."

"Well, I'll try; but you must stay here, and don't move."

Francine at once let go his arm, and waited in horrible suspense in
the courtyard where Merle found her. Meantime Marche-a-Terre joined his
comrade at the moment when the latter, after dragging his victim to the
barn, was compelling her to get into the coach. Pille-Miche called to
him to help in pulling out the vehicle.

"What are you going to do with all that?" asked Marche-a-Terre.

"The Grande Garce gave me the woman, and all that belongs to her is
mine."

"The coach will put a sou or two in your pocket; but as for the woman,
she'll scratch your eyes out like a cat."

Pille-Miche burst into a roar of laughter.

"Then I'll tie her up and take her home," he answered.

"Very good; suppose we harness the horses," said Marche-a-Terre.

A few moments later Marche-a-Terre, who had left his comrade mounting
guard over his prey, led the coach from the stable to the causeway,
where Pille-Miche got into it beside Mademoiselle de Verneuil, not
perceiving that she was on the point of making a spring into the lake.

"I say, Pille-Miche!" cried Marche-a-Terre.

"What!"

"I'll buy all your booty."

"Are you joking?" asked the other, catching his prisoner by the
petticoat, as a butcher catches a calf that is trying to escape him.

"Let me see her, and I'll set a price."

The unfortunate creature was made to leave the coach and stand between
the two Chouans, who each held a hand and looked at her as the Elders
must have looked at Susannah.

"Will you take thirty francs in good coin?" said Marche-a-Terre, with a
groan.

"Really?"

"Done?" said Marche-a-Terre, holding out his hand.

"Yes, done; I can get plenty of Breton girls fo