He lingered long in his eyrie, waiting for Saint-Péray to go. At length, restless beyond endurance, he decided to take the lead in the descent. As he went down the hillside, the mist was already retreating before the onset of the sun. It was the dawn of mid-day. Cartouche looked over his shoulder towards Le Marais.
“Will that bring him out?” he thought, “or will he always put off making his hay until to-morrow?”
Coming out into the road below, he ran suddenly upon Bonito. The physician sprang back and stood breathing at him, grinning horribly.
“Ha!” he cried. “Well met, fellow-disinherited!”
He champed like a rabid dog. He was woefully unclean and disordered. Cartouche fell severely calm.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“The matter!” cried Bonito. “Enough and to spare for us. Go and hear it in the village. Thou hast sped, if thou hast sped, to great purpose indeed. Le Marais was already bespoke, it seems. They are man and wife this hour.”
Cartouche did not move.
“Who are man and wife?” he said.
The other raved.