Marillac threw at his friend a second glance full of meaning.
“Per Bacco!” said he, “are you a Venetian or a Castilian husband?”
“Eh!” replied Bergenheim, “I suppose that without being either, I should kill my wife, the other man, and then myself, without even crying, ‘Beware!’ Here! Brichou! pay attention; Tambeau is separated from the rest.”
As he said these words the Baron leaped over a broad ditch, which divided the road from the clearing which the hunters had already entered.
“What do you say to that?” murmured the artist, in a rather dramatic tone, in his friend’s ear.
Instead of replying, the lover made a gesture which signified, according to all appearance: “I do not care.”
The clearing they must cross in order to reach the woods formed a large, square field upon an inclined plane which sloped to the river side. Just as Marillac in his turn was jumping the ditch, his friend saw, at the extremity of the clearing, Madame de Bergenheim walking slowly in the avenue of sycamores. A moment later, she had disappeared behind a mass of trees without the other men noticing her.
“Take care that you do not slip,” said the artist, “the ground is wet.”
This warning brought misfortune to Gerfaut, who in jumping caught his foot in the root of a tree and fell.
“Are you hurt?” asked Bergenheim.