That lady had either overheard or guessed part
of their conversation, and was filled with anxiety at no longer
perceiving any signs of animosity between them. As soon as the marquis
caught sight of her, he offered his hand to Mademoiselle de Verneuil
and led her hastily towards the house, as if to escape an undesired
companion.
"I am in their way," thought Madame du Gua, remaining where she was.
She watched the lovers walking slowly towards the portico, where they
stopped, as if satisfied to have placed some distance between
themselves and her. "Yes, yes, I am in their way," she repeated,
speaking to herself; "but before long that creature will not be in
mine; the lake, God willing, shall have her. I'll help him keep his
word as a gentleman; once under the water, she has nothing to fear,
--what can be safer than that?"
She was looking fixedly at the still mirror of the little lake to the
right when suddenly she heard a rustling among the rushes and saw in
the moonlight the face of Marche-a-Terre rising behind the gnarled
trunk of an old willow. None but those who knew the Chouan well could
have distinguished him from the tangle of branches of which he seemed
a part. Madame du Gua looked about her with some distrust; she saw the
postilion leading his horses to a stable in the wing of the chateau
which was opposite to the bank where Marche-a-Terre was hiding;
Francine, with her back to her, was going towards the two lovers, who
at that moment had forgotten the whole earth.
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