He took the child’s head, raised it, rested it on his knee, and tried to warm Isaure’s icy hands in his. He felt in the bundle of clothes which he had carried away, and with the first thing he found wiped the poor child’s dripping face. At last, life seemed to return to her features, which had been so long inanimate; the beating of her heart became more rapid. Isaure opened her eyes, looked about her, and shuddered with dismay, when she found herself lying on the summit of a cliff, in the middle of the night, with her head resting against the breast of the man who had kidnapped her from her home.
"Calm yourself, be yourself again, and fear nothing," said the stranger.
"Oh! mon Dieu! Then it is not a dream!" cried Isaure, rising to her feet; "I am no longer in the home where I passed my childhood, in André’s cottage; and it is you who have taken me away! it is you who killed——"
"Yes," replied the vagabond coolly, "it was I who killed Vaillant, in order not to be torn to pieces by him; I had to do it. I would have sacrificed you too, if you had not consented to come with me."
"Unhappy creature that I am!"
"Come, come, don’t be afraid; you came with me, you are with me now, you have nothing to fear any more, that is to say, unless you make more fuss, unless you try to escape; but I fancy you will be reasonable, and will submit to your fate. I can very well understand that you would have preferred to live luxuriously in your cottage, where you had everything in abundance, where your mysterious protector allowed you to lack nothing; and, in short, where you were able to play the coquette with the young men who came to see you. That life was more agreeable for a young girl than the life you will lead with me—I agree to that. But you must make the best of it, for my will is irrevocable; your tears, your lamentations, your sighs, all will be thrown away on me. I have decided that you are not to leave me any more; but do not think that it is love which has led me to form this resolution. No! I am not in love with you, I have no sort of idea of seducing you. In that respect you may be perfectly tranquil. And yet you are pretty, very pretty indeed; but I give you my word that that is a matter of indifference to me."
These last words allayed in some measure Isaure’s grief and alarm; and fearing to irritate anew this man whose wrath seemed to her a terrible thing, she replied, forcing back her sobs:
"Well, monsieur, I will obey you; I will do whatever you command."
"That is well, that is very well; you are a good girl," said the vagabond, shaking Isaure’s hand; "in this way, we shall be good friends. But it must be nearly midnight, and we must resume our journey. Do you feel strong enough to walk? If you cannot, I will carry you; do not hesitate to say so."
"Oh! I can walk, monsieur."