As he drew near the farm he saw the old mother of the family outside, violently agitating her arms and crying, “Monsieur le Marquis! Monsieur le Marquis!”
He drew rein. “What is it, mother? Your sons are safe; Le Blé-aux-Champs has done very well.”
The old woman’s wrinkled face lighted up. “Ste. Anne be praised! But it is not that, Monsieur le Marquis. I thought I had better make sure if you had met the lady out there on the lande—among the Stones, I think she is.”
“Lady! what lady?”
“You have not come from the Clos-aux-Grives, then? You have not had the message I sent by Yvot?”
“What message?—No, I have not been there yet. Out with it, in Heaven’s name!”
“A lady has come from Paris to see you, Monsieur le Marquis; she arrived yesterday. So we gave her a bed here—poor lying, but the best we could do till you——”
“Here! Now! With you?” And in a second he was on the road by her side.
“Ma Doué, Monsieur le Marquis, how you startled me, getting off so quickly! No, she is not here now—she went out on the lande a little while ago, and I thought I saw her walking in the Allée. Being from Paris she does not understand how evil they are, the Old Ones, about sundown, though I warned her . . . Bless us, Monsieur le Marquis, you look as if someone had put a spell on you!”
For, stricken with an odd silence, and very pale, the leader of Finistère had taken a step or two backwards, till he was brought up by his horse’s quarter, and there he was staring at her, his hand to his head.