which separated the sycamore walk from the wing of the chateau occupied by Madame de Bergenheim, Octave slackened the pace of his horse and lingered behind the rest of his companions; his eyes closely examined each of the windows; the blinds of her sleeping-room were only half closed; behind the panes he saw the curtains move and then separate.  A pale face appeared for a moment between the blue folds, like an angel who peeps through the sky to gaze upon the earth.  Gerfaut raised himself on his stirrups so as to drink in this apparition as long as possible, but he dared not make one gesture of adieu.  As he was still endeavoring to obtain one more glance, he saw that the Baron was at his side.

“Play your role better,” said he to him; “we are surrounded by spies.  De Camier has already made an observation about your preoccupied demeanor.”

“You are right,” said Octave; “and you join example to advice.  I admire your coolness, but I despair of equalling it.”

“You must mingle with my guests and talk with them,” Christian replied.

He started off at a trot; Gerfaut followed his example, stifling a sigh as he darted a last glance toward the chateau.  They soon rejoined the cart which carried several of the hunters, and which Monsieur de Camier drove with the assurance of a professional coachman.

There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the trot of the horses and the sound of the wheels upon the level ground.

“What the devil ails your dogs?” exclaimed Monsieur de Camier suddenly, as he turned to the Baron, who was riding behind him.  “There they are all making for the river.”  Just at this moment the dogs, who could be seen in the distance, hurried to the water-side, in spite of all that their leader could do to prevent them.  They almost disappeared behind the willows that bordered the river, and one could hear them barking furiously; their barks sounded like rage mingled with terror.

“It is some duck that they have scented,” observed the prosecutor.

“They wouldn’t bark like that,” said Monsieur de Camier, with the sagacity of a professional hunter; “if it were a wolf, they could not make a greater uproar.  Is it by chance some wild boar who is taking a bath, in order to receive us more ceremoniously?”

He gave the horses a vigorous blow from the whip, and they all rapidly approached the spot where a scene was taking place which excited to the highest pitch everybody’s curiosity.  Before they reached the spot, the keeper, who had run after the dogs to call them together, came out of a thicket, waving his hat to stop the hunters, exclaiming: 

“A body! a body!”

“A body! a drowned man!” he exclaimed, when the vehicle stopped.

This time it was the public prosecutor who arose and jumped from the cart with the agility of a deer.

“A drowned man!” said he.  “In the name of the law, let nobody touch the body.  Call back the dogs.”