It was now almost immediately beneath her, and she saw that it was borne by a stalwart young man. It was a chance,—a mere chance,—but she at once resolved to risk it.
"S-sh!"
The bearer of the lantern stopped, raised it high, and peered about in every direction.
"S-sh!" repeated Fouchette.
"S-sh yourself!" said the young man, evidently suspecting some trick.
"Not so loud if you please, monsieur."
"Not so—but where the devil are you, anyhow?" He had looked in every direction except the right one.
"Here," whispered Fouchette. "Up in the tree."
"Tonnerre! And what are you doing up there in the tree, mademoiselle?" he inquired with astonishment, elevating his lantern so as to get a glimpse of the owner of the voice.
"Nothing," said Fouchette.