They descended from the summit and plunged into the damp darkness of the forest. Berger seemed to know every path and every stone in the mountains. He went on, supporting himself every now and then with his stout cane, at a pace which made it difficult for Oswald to follow him, though he was considered a good pedestrian.
Thus they had reached a meadow lying in the very heart of the forest. As they followed the edge of the wood they suddenly saw a light glimmering on the opposite side. It came from the flame of a pile of briars which had just been kindled. Within the bright circle of the flames two persons were visible--a woman, as it seemed, and a child.
Oswald's sharp eyes confirmed him in a suspicion which had entered his heart at the first glance.
They were Xenobia and Czika.
He hastened as fast as he could across the meadow towards the fire, but he had hardly accomplished half the distance when he sank up to his ankles into the morass. He saw that he could not go any further. He cried as loud as he could: "Xenobia! Czika! it is I! Oswald!"
But his call had scarcely broken the peace of the silent forest when the fire vanished, and with the fire the two forms he had seen.
All was quiet--quiet as death. Oswald might have imagined that his fancy had played him a trick.
"What was the matter?" asked Berger, when Oswald joined him again.
"Did you not see the fire!"
"It was a will-o'-the-wisp in the swamp," replied Berger. "Let us go on."