Then after a moment's silence, turning gaily to Zerbinette, who was holding herself prudently aloof, the dowager added:
"That story of the osprey has recalled hundreds of other pleasant reminiscences. I've a great mind to amuse myself by writing my memoirs some day. They might serve both to instruct and edify my grandson," the octogenarian continued, with a hearty laugh, in which Zerbinette joined.
For several minutes the sound of their laughter could be distinctly heard as the two slowly wended their way down the path.
When the sound had entirely died away, Frederick, his face livid, his expression frightful to behold, emerged from the cave where he had heard every word of the conversation between the dowager-marquise and Zerbinette, and, gun in hand, hastened toward another part of the forest.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE Vieille Coupe road, which Raoul de Pont Brillant would be obliged to take on his return from the Château de Montel homeward, was a sort of deep hollow way, with high banks covered with tall pine-trees, whose heads formed such an impenetrable dome that the light was dim there even at noontime, and at sunset it was so dark that two men who met there would not be able to distinguish each other's features.
It was about six o'clock in the evening when Raoul de Pont Brillant turned in this path, which seemed all the darker and more gloomy from the fact that the highway he had just left was still lighted by the rays reflected from the setting sun. He was alone, having sent his groom to the château to inform the marquise of his change of plans.
He had proceeded only twenty yards when his vision became sufficiently accustomed to the obscurity to enable him to distinguish a human being standing motionless in the middle of the road, a short distance in front of him.
"Hallo there, get to one side of the road or the other," he shouted.
"One word, M. le Marquis de Pont Brillant," responded a voice.