“In the same way as the peasants of the mountain,” rejoined the major; “it is the best way.”
“But it must be very dangerous!”
“It was our friend alone who found it so to-day. We will show you to-morrow his coat of reindeer skin. The way in which the claws of the bear have turned this excellent shield into a kind of lace, will show you that he was in very close quarters with the enemy.”
“But it is madness to expose yourself so,” cried Margaret. “Nothing in the world would induce me to witness such a spectacle!”
“And what is the name of this Meleager?” inquired Olga; “will you not satisfy our curiosity?”
“Confess,” said the major, “that you have not tried very hard to guess it.”
“Yes, indeed; but the best hunters at the chateau—all I should have thought capable of such feats—are here, and you say that your hero is not present?”
“You have forgotten some one who was at the chateau only last evening,” rejoined the lieutenant.
“I have tried in vain to think,” replied Olga; “I give it up, unless, indeed, it should be the black mask, the man of mystery, the learned buffoon, Christian Waldo—”
“Well, and why not?” said the major, glancing stealthily at Margaret, who had blushed deeply.