“Verbaux, ve go, you an’ moi, for to fin’ Marie?” Le Grand asked, with a pitiful note of hope in the words. His black eyes were wet with tears, and their moisture was reflected by the flames. Silence came on the two again; Jules’s face changed swiftly from mood to mood, now hope, then despair, and old memories with their stabs of pain pictured themselves, and his sombre eyes dulled. Le Grand watched, leaning toward Verbaux and quivering with eagerness. Jules spoke at last, but the voice that sounded monotonously in the snow-laden air was not his.
“Non, Le Grand, she lef’ Jules pour Manou; je suis content!” His face twitched as if in mortal stress, his hands clenched, and sweat broke out on his forehead, but he stood fast.
“No—go—fin’—Marie?” Le Grand whispered as he and Jules drew apart, and his voice was tremulous. “She loove toi, Verbaux; Ah, Le Grand, say so, an’ Ah know h’of vat Ah say!” he continued, and held out his arms appealingly to Jules.
The wind blew hard through the trees, and the fire at the men’s feet roared fitfully. Verbaux moved as though to take the outstretched hands again, then he stopped and shuddered.
“Non!” he said slowly.
“Alors, Verbaux, eef you no go avec moi to fin’ Marie, to sauf dat leetle fille, Ah, Le Grand go h’alon’ fin’ her; an’ rememb’, Jules Verbaux, vat Ah tell to toi, dat Marie she loove you; somme taime you veel t’ink of vat Ah tol’ à toi dees night, le bon Dieu leesten!” Le Grand held up his right hand to the dark heavens as he finished.
Jules shook his head. “Je suis content,” he whispered, drawing a long breath. “She lef’ me for Manou!”
“B’en, Verbaux, Ah go! Au revoir; mabbe adieu forhevaire!” Le Grand bowed his head for an instant, then shook hands with Jules silently, fastened on his snow-shoes, strapped the food-bag to his back, and went off in the darkness and snow.
“Le Gr—” Verbaux called and started after him, but he was gone. Nothing was to be heard but the yelping and quarrelling of the wolves, scenting the bodies and coming very near. Jules returned to the fire and stood before it, his eyes fixed in an unseeing, heedless stare. The snow fell very thickly and fast, the gale dashed wildly now in the forests, and the stench of the burning dead was eddied about among the ruins and carried away into the black timber-lands.
Jules looked in the direction that Le Grand had taken. “Ah ’ope dat—” He stopped. “Non, Le Grand, Jules no ’ope so!” he finished, and slowly wound his snow-shoe thongs round his ankles; once more he looked over the lonely scene, then struck off to the northeast, leaving the hungry wolves to their feast undisturbed.