"Yes," said Moras, who had continued to gaze upon Lucan with an expression of indescribable stupor; "yes," he repeated, recovering himself, not without difficulty, "and I am glad, really very glad to see you, my dear friend."
While uttering these simple words, the voice of Moras became hesitating; a damp cloud obscured his eyes.
"Where can she be going at this hour?" he resumed with his usual firmness of speech.
"I do not know; merely some new fancy, I suppose. At any rate, she has seemed to me lately more strange, more moody, and I feel uneasy. Let us try and follow her, if you like."
"Let us go, my friend," said the count after a pause of singular hesitation.
They both left the chateau together, taking their fowling-pieces with them, in order to induce the belief that they were going, according to a quite frequent habit, to shoot sea-birds. At the moment of selecting a direction, Monsieur de Moras turned to Lucan with an inquiring glance.
"I see no danger," said Lucan, "save in the direction of the cliffs. A few words that escaped her yesterday lead me to fear that the peril may be there; but with her horse, she is compelled to make a long detour. By cutting across the woods, we'll be there ahead of her."
They entered the timber to the west of the chateau, and walked in silence and with rapid steps.
The path they had taken led them directly to the plateau overlooking the cliffs they had visited the previous day. The woods extended in that direction in an irregular triangle, the last trees of which almost touched the very brink of the cliff.
As they were approaching with feverish steps that extreme point, Lucan suddenly stopped.