He leaped upon Marie Josephine, fairly devouring her with kisses. There was no use in pretending, Flambeau had given them away! He gave short, staccato barks of joy, turning to jump on Jean, licking his face and hands, and then turning again to his little mistress.
The inn woman looked from one to the other of them keenly, her face now alive with interest. She stared at Marie Josephine as hard as she could. Then she exclaimed:
“The dog seems to know you well. I have seen him before and, if I’m not mistaken, I’ve seen you, too.” As she spoke, she pushed Marie Josephine gently toward the door, looking over her shoulder at Jean. “You can come in. I’ll have some coffee and a bit of bread for you soon. You can rest awhile, for you both looked fagged out.”
Marie Josephine, though she was almost inside the door, tried to pull herself away from the woman.
“No, Jean, we’ll go on, we don’t want breakfast here,” she said, but the woman had stretched out her arm and pulled Jean in, too.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course you must have food, or you’ll not be able to take the rest of your journey, wherever it is you’re going.” The woman spoke kindly and shut the door after them. Flambeau had been the first to enter the mill-inn, and he bounded across the oddly-shaped room, still barking his delight.
“Well, what do you think of this for a good resting place? See, there’s a window cut in the side over there so you can see the forest.” The woman was standing in front of the door, and as Marie Josephine and Jean followed the direction of her finger, and looked out at the road leading to the forest path, she quietly and quickly turned the key in the lock and put it in her pocket.
“Now I’ll tell you what you can do. Go up those stairs and you’ll find a nice little room at the top. It has tables and chairs just like this one, and there’s a fireplace there. I built a bit of fire early, for the mill gets damp even on spring nights. You both go up there and rest, and I’ll bring your coffee up to you. I’ll bring a bone and some milk for the dog, too,” she said. Marie Josephine’s heart beat fast as she listened. Did the woman remember how she had fed Flambeau the summer before? Could it be that she was the person underneath the oak? This dark woman at the inn had been spying on them at Les Vignes!
Marie Josephine followed Jean up the funny winding stairs. They found the room at the top. There were tables and chairs in it, just as the woman had said. They went over to a table near the small fire. There were white muslin curtains at the single window and a pot of geraniums stood on the sill. It was a neat, cheerful room, and if she had not been anxious, Marie Josephine would have loved it, for the fact that the familiar, old olive mill, which she had always known, had been turned into an inn interested her very much. As it was, she turned to Jean as soon as they had shut the door, and catching him firmly by the arm, whispered fiercely:
“It’s not safe here. She’s a spy. I saw her under our oak tree last night. I saw her going through the wood. There’s a dark cloak on the chair by the door downstairs. She wore it last night and she hasn’t been back very long, even though she did have four hours’ start of us. She knows who I am. Flambeau gave us away. She remembers him from last summer when we stopped here for déjeuner. Hush! I hear her!” Marie Josephine ran across the room and, when the door opened, she was looking out of the window. The side of the mill was painted green and there was an eave’s trough along it. An apple tree showing faintly pink and white swayed in the early morning breeze, its branches making a tapping sound as they flapped against the rough wall of the mill.