"We might give warning to the gamekeepers who are probably on the watch, for a bright moonlight night like this seems to have been made expressly for poachers."
"You are right. But do you hear that?" she exclaimed, pausing and listening attentively. "It sounds like the ring of horse's hoofs."
"It is, madame. It may be that the head gamekeeper is making his rounds. Now we have reached the edge of the forest, madame, we will take this short cut, for it will take us straight to the guide-post, only look out for your face, for there are so many holly-bushes."
And more than once Marie's delicate hands were torn and lacerated by the sharp points of the holly-leaves, but she was not even conscious of it.
"Those bullets, why did he want those bullets?" she said to herself. "But I will not allow myself to think of it. I should die of terror, and I need all my strength."
Just then the sound of horse's hoofs, which had seemed to come from a long way off, rang out louder and louder, then ceased entirely, as if the animal had paused entirely or settled down into a walk to ascend a very steep hill.
"It was only about twenty yards from here on the top of the hill that I saw M. Frederick enter that thicket on the edge of the road," said the farmer, pointing to a large clump of young oaks. "I will go around on the other side of the thicket, you can enter it on this side, so we cannot fail to find M. Frederick if he is still there. In case I meet him before you do, I shall tell him that you want him to give up his poaching at once, sha'n't I, madame?"
Marie nodded her assent, and entered the little grove in an agony of suspense, while Jean François hurried on.
The horse was now near enough to the top of the hill for his tread to be distinctly heard, though he was moving so slowly, and in another instant horse and rider both became distinctly visible in the bright moonlight. The rider was Raoul de Pont Brillant, who had been obliged to take this route after leaving the Vieille Coupe road.
Frederick, who was familiar with every path and road in the forest, had, by making a short cut through the woods, reached the top of the hill considerably in advance of the young marquis.
Marie soon reached quite a large clearing that extended to the roadside. Near the edge of this clearing stood an immense oak, and the thick moss that covered the ground beneath it deadened the sound of any footsteps so effectually that the young woman was able to approach without attracting the attention of her son, whom she saw half hidden by the enormous trunk of the tree. Too deeply absorbed to notice his mother's approach, Frederick was kneeling bareheaded on the grass, holding his gun half lowered as if confident that the moment to raise it to his shoulder and fire was close at hand.
Though she had endeavoured to drive away the terrible thought, there had been a strong fear of the possibility of suicide, so it is easy to imagine Madame Bastien's intense joy and relief when, from her son's posture, she concluded that the farmer's suspicions were justified and that her son was merely poaching on his neighbour's preserves; so, in a wild transport of tenderness and delight, the young mother sprang forward and threw her arms around her son at the very instant he brought his gun to his shoulder, muttering the while, in a ferocious tone:
"Ah, M. le marquis, I have you now."
For Frederick had just seen Raoul de Pont Brillant slowly advancing toward him through the clear moonlight, lazily whistling a hunting song.
Madame Bastien's movement had been so sudden and so impetuous that her son's gun fell from his hands at the instant he was about to fire.
"My mother!" murmured Frederick, petrified with astonishment.
The horse's tread and the hunting song Raoul de Pont Brillant was whistling had partially deadened the noise Madame Bastien had made. Nevertheless, the young marquis seemed to have heard or seen something that had excited his suspicions, for, standing up in his stirrups, he called out, imperiously, "Who goes there!" then listened attentively again.
Marie, who had just discovered the reason of her son's presence in the forest, placed her hand over Frederick's mouth and listened breathlessly.
Receiving no response after waiting several seconds, and not supposing for one moment that his unknown enemy could have gotten here in advance of him, Raoul settled himself in his saddle again, saying to himself: "It was some startled deer leaping through the bushes;" after which the mother and son, silent, motionless, and locked in a firm embrace, heard the young man begin to whistle his hunting song again.
The sound grew fainter and fainter until it died away altogether in the profound silence that pervaded the forest.
CHAPTER XVI
MADAME BASTIEN could no longer doubt Frederick's intentions, for she had seen him aim at Raoul de Pont Brillant, at the same time exclaiming, "I have you now, M. le marquis;" but this ambuscade seemed so cowardly and so atrocious to the unfortunate woman that, in spite of the conclusive evidence against her son, she still tried to close her eyes to the truth.
"Frederick, my child, what are you doing here?" asked Madame Bastien, tremulously.
"You do not answer me, my child," she continued. "Your eyes are haggard, you look so strangely. You have been suffering so much for some days past that it has brought on a sort of nervous fever. The fact that you do not even know where you are or how you come to be here is proof of that. You are like one who has just been suddenly awakened from a dream. Am I not right, Frederick?"
"I know where I am."
"Yes, you do now, but you did not a moment ago."
"On the contrary, I tell you that I do know perfectly well why I am hiding here with my gun."
"Then Jean François was right," said the poor mother, pretending to be reassured. "What he told me was true."
"What did he tell you?"
"That you were poaching in the Pont Brillant woods. You can judge of my anxiety when I heard that, so I hastened here at once with Jean François, for it is frightfully imprudent in you, my poor child. Don't you know that M. le marquis – "
The words M. le marquis startled Frederick out of his terrible calmness. He clenched his fists furiously and, confronting his mother with a ferocious expression upon his face, exclaimed:
"It was M. le marquis I was lying in wait for; do you hear me, mother?"
"No, Frederick, no," replied the poor mother, shuddering.
"I am determined to make myself understood, then," said Frederick, with a frightful smile. "Knowing that M. le marquis would pass here about nightfall on his way home, I loaded my gun and came and concealed myself behind this tree to kill M. le marquis as he passed. Do you understand me now, mother?"
On hearing this terrible confession, Madame Bastien's brain reeled for a moment; then she showed herself to be truly heroic.
Placing one of her hands on her son's shoulder, she laid the other on his forehead, saying in a calm, perfectly calm, voice, and as if talking to herself:
"How hot his poor head is, and he is still delirious with fever! My God, oh, my God, how can I induce him to follow me?"
Frederick, amazed by his mother's words and her apparent tranquillity after the terrible confession he had just made, exclaimed:
"I am perfectly sane, I tell you, mother. It is you as much as myself that I wish to avenge, and my hatred, you see – "
"Yes, yes, my child, I know," interrupted Madame Bastien, too much terrified to notice Frederick's last words.
Then, kissing him on the forehead, she said, soothingly:
"Yes, yes, of course you have your senses, so come home with me; for it is getting late and we have been out in these woods a long time."
"The place suits me well enough and I shall come back again," answered Frederick, sullenly.
"Of course we will come back again, my child, but in order to do that we shall first have to go away."
"Don't exasperate me too much, mother."
"Hush, hush, I implore you," whispered Marie, placing her hand upon her son's lips and listening breathlessly. "Don't you hear footsteps? My God, who is coming?"
Frederick caught up his gun.
"Ah, I know," murmured his mother, recovering from her alarm, after a moment's reflection, "it is Jean François. He was to search for you in one side of the grove while I searched in the other."
"Is that you, Jean François?" she called out, cautiously.
"Yes, Madame Bastien," replied the worthy farmer, who was not yet visible but who could be distinctly heard forcing his way through the branches. "I did not find M. Frederick."