“Yes,” I agreed; “it is the Bocage he will seek to reach. But perhaps he has already passed.”
Pasdeloup shook his head.
“Impossible. We came by a shorter way which the women could not have followed. Besides, he said he would wait for you. It is that which is delaying him. He fancies you are lost somewhere in the woods down yonder. I shall have to seek him;” and he rose to his feet with sudden resolution.
Then he stopped and stood for an instant staring down the valley.
“It is they!” he cried. “It is they!”
I sprang to my feet and followed with my eyes his pointing finger. For some moments I saw nothing—only the tangle of trees and underbrush; then I caught a movement among the trees and three figures came out into the little glade below us.
The women advanced slowly and with difficulty, as though already weary. M. le Comte paused to look back.
“You were right,” I said, touched to the heart. “He is still seeking me.” But Pasdeloup had placed his hand behind his ear and was listening intently, his face of a sudden rigid as stone.
“They have waited for you too long,” he said roughly. “They are followed;” and he plunged down the hillside, I after him.
M. le Comte had given an arm to each of the women and was hurrying them forward, encouraging each in turn. Not until we were almost upon them did he hear us; then he snatched out his pistols and whirled toward us.