"Yes, my good lady; Madame George has asked for you several times."
"You see, my dear, Madame George is waiting for us," said Mrs. Seraphin, turning toward Fleur-de-Marie, who, notwithstanding her confidence, had felt her heart beat at the appearance of the sinister faces of the widow, Calabash and Nicholas.
But the name of Madame George reassured her, and she answered, "I am also very impatient to see her; happily, the passage is short."
"Won't the dear lady be happy!" said Mrs. Seraphin. Then, turning toward Nicholas, she added: "Come, bring your boat a little nearer, that we can embark;" and, in a low tone, she whispered, "The little one must be drowned; if she comes up, put her under again."
"It is settled; don't you be afraid; when I make a sign, give me your hand. She will sink all alone—all is prepared—you have nothing to fear," answered Nicholas, in a low tone. Then, with savage imperturbability, without being touched either with the beauty or youth of Fleur-de-Marie, he offered her his arm.
The girl leaned lightly on him, and entered the boat. "Now your turn, my good lady," said Nicholas to Mrs. Seraphin. And he offered to assist her.
Whether it was a presentiment, suspicion, or only a fear that she could not jump quick enough from the boat where La Goualeuse and Nicholas were seated when it should sink, the housekeeper of Jacques Ferrand said to Nicholas, drawing back, "On second thoughts, I will go in the boat of mademoiselle." And she took a seat alongside of Calabash.
"Very good," said Nicholas, exchanging a glance with his sister; and, with the end of his oar, he shoved off his boat, his sister doing the same as soon as Mrs. Seraphin had taken her seat. Standing on the shore, erect, immovable, indifferent to this scene, the widow, pensive and absorbed, kept her eyes fixed on Martial's window, which could be distinguished, through the poplar trees, from the shore.
During this time the two boats moved slowly off toward the opposite side.