“The noise I heard, dear instructress of natural history, was not a noise made by an animal; there was evidence of mind in it, and that proclaims a man.”

The countess was seized with panic, and she darted back through the wild flower-garden, seeking the path by which to leave the forest.

“What is the matter?” cried Blondet, rushing after her.

“I thought I saw eyes,” she said, when they regained the path through which they had reached the charcoal-burner’s open.

Just then they heard the low death-rattle of a creature whose throat was suddenly cut, and the countess, with her fears redoubled, fled so quickly that Blondet could scarcely follow her.  She ran like a will-o’-the-wisp, and did not listen to Blondet who called to her, “You are mistaken.”  On she ran, and Emile with her, till they suddenly came upon Michaud and his wife, who were walking along arm-in-arm.  Emile was panting and the countess out of breath, and it was some time before they could speak; then they explained.  Michaud joined Blondet in laughing at the countess’s terror; then the bailiff showed the two wanderers the way to find the tilbury.  When they reached the gate Madame Michaud called, “Prince!”

“Prince!  Prince!” called the bailiff; then he whistled,—­but no greyhound.

Emile mentioned the curious noise that began their adventure.

“My wife heard that noise,” said Michaud, “and I laughed at her.”

“They have killed Prince!” exclaimed the countess.  “I am sure of it; they killed him by cutting his throat at one blow.  What I heard was the groan of a dying animal.”

“The devil!” cried Michaud; “the matter must be cleared up.”

Emile and the bailiff left the two ladies with Joseph and the horses, and returned to the wild garden of the open.  They went down the bank to the pond; looked everywhere along the slope, but found no clue.  Blondet jumped back first, and as he did so he saw, in a thicket which stood on higher ground, one of those trees he had noticed in the morning with withered heads.  He showed it to Michaud, and proposed to go to it.  The two sprang forward in a straight line across the forest, avoiding the trunks and going round the matted tangles of brier and holly until they found the tree.

“It is a fine elm,” said Michaud, “but there’s a worm in it,—­a worm which gnaws round the bark close to the roots.”

He stopped and took up a bit of the bark, saying:  “See how they work.”

“You have a great many worms in this forest,” said Blondet.

Just then Michaud noticed a red spot; a moment more and he saw the head of his greyhound.  He sighed.

“The scoundrels!” he said.  “Madame was right.”

Michaud and Blondet examined the body and found, just as the countess had said, that some one had cut the greyhound’s throat.  To prevent his barking he had been decoyed with a bit of meat, which was still between his tongue and his palate.