Indeed, Billet had fired on a man whom he saw scaling the orchard wall but he had got away on a horse which came up at his whistle. While Billet was following the pair in vague hope that he had hurt the rider so that he must fall out of the saddle, Ange reached the orchard where he saw Catherine leaning up against a tree with her hand on her heart.
“Let me take you into the house,” he said.
“No, I will not live under the roof of the man who shot at my sweetheart.”
“But then——“
“Do you refuse to accompany me?”
“No, but——“
“Come.”
No one saw them leave the farm and both disappeared in the valley.
God only knew the refuge of Catherine Billet!
All night a dreadful storm raged in the heart of the injured father. Something vital seemed to snap in the mighty frame of the man when he returned emptyhanded to see that his daughter had taken to flight.