"Don't come near me, mother," shrieked the boy in a fury, "or you'll pay dear for all the beatings you have given me and Amandine!"
"Let 'em shut us up; don't strike mother!" cried Amandine, in fear.
At this moment Nicholas saw upon a chair a large blanket which he used to wrap his booty in at times, and, taking hold of and partly unfolding it, he threw it completely over François's head, who, in spite of his efforts, finding himself entangled under its folds, could not make use of his weapon. Nicholas then seized hold of him, and, with his mother's help, carried him into the cellar. Amandine had continued kneeling in the centre of the kitchen, and, as soon as she saw her brother overcome, she sprang up and, in spite of her fright, went to join him in the dark hole. The door was then double-locked on the brother and sister.
"It will still be that infernal Martial's fault, if these children behave in this outrageous manner to us," said Nicholas.
"Nothing has been heard in his room since this morning," said the widow, with a pensive air, and she shuddered, "nothing!"
"That's a sign, mother, that you were right to say to Père Férot, the fisherman at Asnières, that Martial had been so dangerously ill as to be confined to his bed for the last two days; for now, when all is known, it will not astonish anybody."
After a moment's silence, as and if she wished to escape a painful thought, the widow replied, suddenly:
"Didn't the Chouette come here whilst I was at Asnières?"
"Yes, mother."
"Why didn't she stay and accompany us to Bras-Rouge's? I mistrust her."