The nurse had left the door ajar. With a bound, Vivienne reached it, threw it open, and closed it quickly behind her. Then she remembered that the bolt was on the outside, and she pushed it into place. She heard Madeline’s cries as she ran down the corridor, and sent back a mocking laugh in response. She saw a side door opening into the garden—perhaps the front door was guarded—she would run no risks. Keeping her hand upon the hilt of the stiletto, she made her way through the garden, for she saw the maquis beyond. If she could reach that, she might rest until able to go on.
In the heart of the forest she sank down, exhausted; but the young recuperate quickly, and she was soon up and again on her way, towards Ajaccio she hoped. She had never studied astronomy, but from the position of the sun she reasoned that she must go in a certain direction, and events proved that her intuition was correct. She soon came to a narrow cross-road, which she followed, and in a short time found herself on what she thought must be the main street of Salvanetra.
Vivienne would have turned back from the travelled thoroughfare and tried to make her way through the paths in the maquis, but for two reasons: She was afraid she might be captured by a party of bandits who, knowing that her brother was wealthy, would hold her for a large ransom; again, she was faint and almost exhausted, for she had refused to eat anything while in Dr. Procida’s asylum. She stood irresolute for a while; then soliloquised:
“I must gain strength so that I may get back in time to save Vandemar; and to gain strength I must have food.”
She walked on, scanning carefully each house that she passed, yet undecided as to which she should apply for assistance. Espying in the road a small branch of a tree, which had probably been used by some carter as a whip, she picked it up, and using it as a staff, got on her way much faster.
She saw that she was nearing a line of houses and felt that she must put pride away and make her appeal. She tapped lightly upon a door with her staff. It was opened by a woman, whose face had a sharp, shrewish expression. Vivienne’s first impulse was to turn away, but summoning all her strength and courage, she said:
“Will you be so kind, madame, as to give me a piece of bread? I am so tired and faint, for I have eaten nothing since yesterday.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, do not ask me my name. I am not a beggar. Believe me, I am not what I seem. Only give me a crust and I will go.”
“Honest people are not afraid to tell their names,” said the woman, and her voice was harsh and repellent.