Hardly had that word of deepest reproach which can be uttered to a Corsican fallen from her lips, when her brother, exerting all his brute force, felled her to the ground.
“You are no longer a sister of mine!” he cried. “You have insulted me past forgiveness.”
He turned and dashed into the dark woods beyond, forgetful of the lantern, the rays of which shone upon the pallid face of the prostrate girl. Vivienne was in an unconscious state. The blow had been a cruel one, before which even a strong man would have gone down.
An old hag, bearing a bundle of fagots upon her back, was plodding slowly homeward. She stopped when she caught sight of the lantern and, looking about her, saw the inanimate form of a woman upon the ground, not far distant.
“A lantern!” the old woman muttered. “She must have brought it, but I did not see it when she passed my house. I did not see it when she went by in the woods, but I can see now the flash of diamonds upon her fingers, on her neck, and in her ears. A quarrel with her lover, most likely! More fool she to care for one who could leave her like this! Lucky for me, though!”
She knelt beside Vivienne, and the jewels were soon in her possession.
“These are nice French boots, just the right size for my little girl, and this beautiful dress will bring me a fine sum. Why should she possess all that riches can bestow and I go about clothed in rags? It is my right to take all that I can get. I, a bandit’s mistress—she, some rich man’s daughter; but her head must lie as low as mine some day. That is one comfort.”
She proceeded deliberately to make as small a bundle as possible of the clothing and other articles of which she had despoiled the unconscious girl, and, having done so, put it under her arm and disappeared among the trees.
Hardly had she done so, when Victor, walking rapidly, carrying his gun upon his shoulder, reached the place. He espied the lantern and, running forward, caught it up.
“Where can they be?” he cried. “What has happened to them?”