Now Mme. Blanche breathed freely. If she could succeed in making her escape she was avenged.
She was going toward the door when a sound on the stairs startled her.
Two persons were ascending the staircase.
Where should she go? where could she conceal herself?
She was now so sure she would be detected that she almost decided to throw the bowl into the fire, and then boldly face the intruders.
But no—a chance remained—she darted into the dressing-room. She dared not close the door; the least click of the latch would have betrayed her.
Marie-Anne entered the chamber, followed by a peasant, bearing a large bundle.
“Ah! here is my candle!” she exclaimed, as she crossed the threshold. “Joy must be making me lose my wits! I could have sworn that I left it on the table downstairs.” Blanche shuddered. She had not thought of this circumstance.
“Where shall I put this clothing?” asked the young peasant.
“Lay it down here. I will arrange the articles by and by,” replied Marie Anne.