“I wish to speak with him.”
“What, Blanche, do you dare——”
“I must!”
“No, I cannot allow it. I must not——”
“There, that is enough,” said Blanche, with one of those imperious glances that deprive a dependent of all strength and courage; “quite enough.”
Then, in gentler tones:
“I must talk with this man,” she added.
“You, Aunt Medea, will remain at a little distance. Keep a close watch on every side, and if you see anyone approaching, call me, whoever it may be.”
Aunt Medea, submissive as she was ever wont to be, obeyed; and Mme. Blanche advanced toward the old poacher, who stood as motionless as the trunks of the giant trees around him.
“Well, my good Father Chupin, what sort of sport have you had to-day?” she began, when she was a few steps from him.