The vagabond opened the drawer that the girl pointed out to him and filled his pockets with the money he found there, muttering:
"Good! Here’s enough to live on for a century in these mountains."
Then he turned, and finding Isaure still on her knees, in the same spot, he cried angrily:
"Well! didn’t you hear me? I told you to make a bundle of your clothes! Make haste!"
"Oh! mon Dieu! Do you still mean to take me away?" said Isaure, in an imploring voice.
"Do I mean to? Yes, that is why I forced my way into your house and braved death. This blood flowing from my face should prove to you that my resolution is not to be shaken, that I will allow neither your prayers nor your tears to change my mind. As for your shrieks, they would be thrown away, for no one can hear you; your protectors, your friends, are not near you now; your faithful guardian is dead."
"Vaillant dead!" exclaimed Isaure, with a cry of horror which was soon followed by a flood of tears.
"Yes, Vaillant is dead, or nearly so. Come! No words, no useless prayers! I say again—you must follow me willingly, or——"
The stranger took the girl’s arm and pressed it so violently that the pain nearly deprived her of strength; she could only falter:
"I will obey you, monsieur," whereupon the vagabond released her arm and pushed her roughly toward the bureau.