“One would think that he was weeping; listen, listen! I believe he is speaking.”
It was true that Ami’s master, believing himself to be alone on that spot which the people round about were careful to avoid, especially at night, uttered these words:
“Forgive me, unfortunate victim of the most dastardly treachery. Ah, me! if only I could have fulfilled your last wishes, it seems to me that you might forgive me for your death. But it was impossible; all my efforts were fruitless!”
“Did you hear?” murmured Honorine to her companion; “he said: ‘You might forgive me for your death.’—So it must have been he who killed the person who is under that cross! Why, this is frightful!”
“It isn’t possible,” said Agathe; “we couldn’t have heard right.”
At that moment, Ami, who had reached his master’s side, looked up in his face and began to yelp, but softly, not angrily. It was his way of informing his master that he was no longer alone.
“What! is there someone here?” cried Paul, springing hastily to his feet; “where, Ami? where, I say?”
The dog ran back to the two friends who stood a short distance away, trembling, afraid to go forward or to retreat, especially since they had heard the words uttered by that mysterious man.
“What! ladies?” cried Paul, stopping in front of them. “Why, this is strange; so far as the darkness permits me to distinguish your features, I seem to recognize the ladies whom I escorted back to Chelles a few weeks ago.”
“Yes, monsieur, it is we,” replied Agathe, who was the first to recover her courage. “It is we again, and sorely embarrassed; for we were surprised by the storm, then by the darkness; we lost our way, and I do not know what would have become of us, but for your dog. He met us and recognized us; and we followed him, having no idea where he was leading us.”