“I am ashamed to confess it,” she said at last, “but I can go no farther. It has been so long since I was out of doors that I have almost forgotten how to walk.”
“Fortunately, we are almost there,” replied the priest.
A moment after young Poignot stopped his cart in the road, at the entrance of the little footpath leading to the Borderie.
“Our journey is ended!” he remarked to the baron. Then he uttered a low whistle, like that which he had given a few hours before, to warn Marie-Anne of his arrival.
No one appeared; he whistled again, louder this time; then with all his might—still no response.
Mme. d’Escorval and the abbe had now overtaken the cart.
“It is very strange that Marie-Anne does not hear me,” remarked young Poignot, turning to them. “We cannot take the baron to the house until we have seen her. She knows that very well. Shall I run up and warn her?”
“She is asleep, perhaps,” replied the abbe; “you stay with your horse, my boy, and I will go and wake her.”
Certainly he did not feel the slightest disquietude. All was calm and still; a bright light was shining through the windows of the second story.
Still, when he saw the open door, a vague presentiment of evil stirred his heart.