Not even a gorse-bush near, and the horse-hoofs were approaching quickly. Through the mists she would soon see her enemy appear, and then what escape would be possible?
Her fears were the fears of her companions, though theirs were vaguer, wrought more from strained nerves than knowledge. Yet what could they do?
A block of granite rocks, leaning one against the other, formed the only shelter within sight.
It was thither they fled, Madame leaning heavily against them, for exhaustion had well-nigh conquered courage.
So they crouched, whilst Cécile whispered to Gabrielle that, if those who came were Breton born, they might be safe enough.
"Safe?" murmured Gabrielle, cowering low. "Nay, a little search and they must find us."
"They will not think of searching. These are the haunted stones of the Breton landes. Have you never heard? The fairies and dwarfs hide their treasures here—so the ignorant say—and if any approach they are destroyed. But hush, these—these perhaps are——"
"From Varenac."
"Nay, nay! not from Varenac."
"Not those we need? But I have enemies there."