The path that led to it ran through fields planted with small fir-trees arranged in quincunxes. Another path turned to the right and disappeared from view in some dense thickets.
Véronique kept her eyes upon the Priory, whose low-storied front was lengthening gradually, when Honorine, after a few minutes, stopped short, with her face towards the thickets on the right, and called out:
"Monsieur Stéphane!"
"Whom are you calling?" asked Véronique. "M. Maroux?"
"Yes, François' tutor. He was running towards the bridge: I caught sight of him through a clearing . . . Monsieur Stéphane! . . . But why doesn't he answer? Did you see a man running?"
"No."
"I declare it was he, with his white cap. At any rate, we can see the bridge behind us. Let us wait for him to cross."
"Why wait? If anything's the matter, if there's a danger of any kind, it's at the Priory."
"You're right. Let's hurry."
They hastened their pace, overcome with forebodings; and then, for no definite reason, broke into a run, so greatly did their fears increase as they drew nearer to the reality.