They advanced, creeping under the trees. Suddenly they all remained motionless. Around them was a dead silence. Then, quite near them, a little clear, musical young voice was heard amid the stillness of the wood.
“Father, we shall get lost in the snow. We shall never reach Blainville.”
A deeper voice replied:
“Never fear, little daughter; I know the country as well as I know my pocket.”
The lieutenant said a few words and four men moved away silently, like shadows.
All at once a woman's shrill cry was heard through the darkness. Two prisoners were brought back, an old man and a young girl. The lieutenant questioned them, still in a low tone:
“Your name?”
“Pierre Bernard.”
“Your profession?”
“Butler to Comte de Ronfi.”