“We must not stop to talk,” said Chupin. “Come, I will lead the way.”
And taking Blanche by the arm, he hastened toward the grove.
“Ah! so Marie-Anne had a child,” he said, as they hurried on. “She was pretending to be such a saint! But where the devil has she put it?”
“I shall find it.”
“Hum! That is easier said than done.”
A shrill laugh, resounding in the darkness, interrupted him. He released his hold on the arm of Blanche and assumed an attitude of defence.
Vain precaution! A man concealed behind a tree bounded upon him, and, plunging his knife four times into the old poacher’s writhing body, cried:
“Holy Virgin! now is my vow fulfilled! I shall no longer be obliged to eat with my fingers!”
“The innkeeper!” groaned the wounded man, sinking to the earth.
For once in her life, Aunt Medea manifested some energy.