She watched the stable and the
heaps of straw with the absorption of one who was saying her prayers
to the Virgin, and she presently saw Madame du Gua approaching
Marche-a-Terre with the precaution of a cat that dislikes to wet its
feet. When the Chouan caught sight of the lady, he rose and stood
before her in an attitude of deep respect. This singular circumstance
aroused Francine's curiosity; she slipped into the courtyard and along
the walls, avoiding Madame du Gua's notice, and trying to hide herself
behind the stable door. She walked on tiptoe, scarcely daring to
breathe, and succeeded in posting herself close to Marche-a-Terre,
without exciting his attention.
"If, after all this information," the lady was saying to the Chouan,
"it proves not to be her real name, you are to fire upon her without
pity, as you would on a mad dog."
"Agreed!" said Marche-a-Terre.
The lady left him. The Chouan replaced his red woollen cap upon his
head, remained standing, and was scratching his ear as if puzzled when
Francine suddenly appeared before him, apparently by magic.
"Saint Anne of Auray!" he exclaimed. Then he dropped his whip, clasped
his hands, and stood as if in ecstasy. A faint color illuminated his
coarse face, and his eyes shone like diamonds dropped on a muck-heap.
"Is it really the brave girl from Cottin?" he muttered, in a voice so
smothered that he alone heard it.
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