The young mother was in her chamber, which adjoined her son's room, listening every now and then for some sound that would seem to indicate that her son was awake, when Marguerite, their old servant, came in to ask for some instructions.
"Speak low, and close the door carefully," said Marie. "I don't want my son waked."
"M. Frederick, madame; why, he went out this morning at sunrise with his gun."
To rush into her son's bedroom was the work of only an instant.
Frederick was not there; his gun, too, was missing.
Several hours passed, but Frederick did not appear, and the light of the dull November day was already beginning to wane when Marguerite came running in.
"Madame, madame," she exclaimed, "here is Father André! He saw M. Frederick this morning."
"You saw my son this morning, André? What did he say to you? Where is he now?" cried Madame Bastien, eagerly.
"Yes, madame, M. Frederick came to me for some bullets about sunrise this morning."
"Bullets? What did he want of them?" asked the anxious mother, trying to drive away the horrible suspicion that had suddenly presented itself to her mind. "Did he want them for hunting?"