THE HOLLOW WAY.
The sun was descending, and the fields were silent and deserted.
Fleur-de-Marie had reached the entrance to the hollow way, which it was
necessary to cross in her walk to the rectory, when she saw a little
lame lad, dressed in a gray blouse and blue cap, come out of the ravine.
He appeared in tears, and directly he saw the Goualeuse he ran towards
her.
"Oh, good lady, have pity on me, I pray!" he exclaimed, clasping his
hands with a supplicating look.
"What do you want? What is the matter with you, my poor boy?" said the
Goualeuse, with an air of interest.
"Alas, good lady! my poor grandmother, who is very, very old, has fallen
down in trying to climb up the ravine, and hurt herself very much. I am
afraid she has broken her leg, and I am too weak to lift her up myself.
_Mon Dieu!_ what shall I do if you will not come and help me? Perhaps my
poor grandmother will die!"
The Goualeuse, touched with the grief of the little cripple, replied:
"I am not very strong myself, my child; but perhaps I can help you to
assist your poor grandmother. Let us go to her as quickly as we can! I
live at the farm close by here; and, if the poor old woman cannot walk
there with us, I will send somebody to help her!"
"Oh, good lady, _le bon Dieu_ will bless you for your kindness! It is
close by here--not two steps down this hollow way, as I told you. It was
in going down the slope that she fell."
"You do not belong to this part of the country?" said the Goualeuse,
inquiringly following Tortillard, whom our readers have, no doubt,
recognised.
"No, good lady, we came from Ecouen."
"And where are you going?"
"To a good clergyman's, who lives on the hill out there," said Bras
Rouge's son, to increase Fleur-de-Marie's confidence.
"To the Abbé Laport's, perhaps?"
"Yes, good lady; to the Abbé Laport's. My poor grandmother knows him
very, very well."
"And I was going there also. How strange that we should meet," said
Fleur-de-Marie, advancing still farther into the hollow way.
"Grandmamma, I'm coming, I'm coming! Take courage, and I will bring you
help!" cried Tortillard, to forewarn the Schoolmaster and the Chouette
to prepare themselves to lay hands on their victim.
"Your grandmother, then, did not fall down far off from here?" inquired
the Goualeuse.
"No, good lady; behind that large tree there, where the road turns,
about twenty paces from here."
Suddenly Tortillard stopped.
The noise of a horse galloping was heard in the silence of the place.
"All is lost again!" said Tortillard to himself.
The road made a very sudden bend a few yards from the spot where Bras
Rouge's son was with the Goualeuse. A horseman appeared at the angle,
and when he came nigh to the young girl he stopped. And then was heard
the trot of another horse; and some moments after there followed a groom
in a brown coat with silver buttons, white leather breeches, and
top-boots. A leathern belt secured around his waist his master's
macintosh. His master was dressed simply in a stout brown frock-coat,
and a pair of light gray trousers, which fitted closely. He was mounted
on a thoroughbred and splendid bay horse, which he sat admirably, and
which, in spite of the fast gallop, had not a bead of sweat on his skin,
which was as bright and brilliant as a star. The groom's gray horse,
which stood motionless a few paces behind his master, was also well-bred
and perfect of his kind. In the handsome dark face of the gentleman
Tortillard recognised the Vicomte de Saint-Rémy, who was supposed to be
the lover of the Duchesse de Lucenay.
"My pretty lass," said the viscount to the Goualeuse, whose lovely
countenance struck him, "would you be so obliging as to tell me the way
to the village of Arnouville?"
Fleur-de-Marie's eyes sunk before the bold and admiring look of the
young man, as she replied:
"On leaving the sunken road, sir, you must take the first turning to the
right, and that path will lead you to an avenue of cherry-trees, which
is the straight road to Arnouville."
"A thousand thanks, my pretty lass! You tell me better than an old
woman, whom I found a few yards further on stretched under a tree, for I
could only get groans and moans out of her."
"My poor grandmother!" said Tortillard, in a whining tone.
"One word more," said M. de Saint-Rémy, addressing La Goualeuse. "Can
you tell me if I shall easily find M. Dubreuil's farm at Arnouville?"
Goualeuse could not prevent a shudder at these words, which recalled to
her the painful scene of the morning. She replied:
"The farm-buildings border the avenue which you must enter to reach
Arnouville, sir."
"Once more, many thanks, my pretty dear," said M. de Saint-Rémy; and he
galloped off with his groom.
The handsome features of the viscount were in full animation whilst he
was talking to Fleur-de-Marie, but when he was again alone they became
darkened and contracted by painful uneasiness. Fleur-de-Marie,
remembering the unknown person for whom they were so hastily preparing a
pavilion at the farm of Arnouville by Madame de Lucenay's orders, felt
convinced it was for this young and good-looking cavalier.
The 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 for something
there!"
"Vile impostor! He is looking to see the flies," said Tortillard.
"Come, quick! Haste forward, my man! Up with Pegriotte! That's it!" said
the Chouette, as she saw the ruffian lift Fleur-de-Marie in his arms as
he would carry a sleeping infant. "Quick to the coach! quick,--quick!"
"But who will lead me?" inquired the Schoolmaster, in a hoarse voice,
and securing his light and flexible burden in his herculean arms.
"Old wise head!--he thinks of every thing!" said the Chouette.
Then, lifting aside her shawl, she unfastened a red pocket-handkerchief
which covered her skinny neck, and, twisting it into its length, said
to the Schoolmaster:
"Open your ivories, and take the end of this 'wipe' between them. Hold
tight! Tortillard will take the other end in his hand, and you have
nothing to do but to follow him. The good blind man requires a good dog!
Here, brat!"
The cripple cut a caper, and made a sort of low and odd barking. Then,
taking the other end of the handkerchief in his hand, he led the
Schoolmaster in this way, whilst the Chouette hastened forward to
apprise Barbillon. We have not attempted to paint Fleur-de-Marie's
terror when she found herself in the power of the Chouette and the
Schoolmaster. She felt all her strength leave her, and could not offer
the slightest resistance.
Some minutes afterwards the Goualeuse was lifted into the _fiacre_ which
Barbillon drove, and although it was night they closed the window-blinds
carefully; and the three accomplices went, with their almost expiring
victim, towards the plain of St. Denis, where Thomas Seyton awaited
them.