She had gone about fifty yards, and had as many more to traverse when she halted.  A man, bent double, was moving stealthily along the farther side of the brook, a little in front of her.  Now she saw him, now she lost him; now she caught a glimpse of him again, through a screen of willow branches.  He moved with the utmost caution, as a man moves who is pursued or in danger; and for a moment she deemed him a peasant whom the bathers had disturbed and who was bent on escaping.  But when he came opposite to the alder-bed she saw that that was his point, for he crouched down, sheltered by a willow, and gazed eagerly among the trees, always with his back to her; and then he waved his hand to some one in the wood.

Madame St. Lo drew in her breath.  As if he had heard the sound—­which was impossible—­the man dropped down where he stood, crawled a yard or two on his face, and disappeared.

Madame stared a moment, expecting to see him or hear him.  Then, as nothing happened, she screamed.  She was a woman of quick impulses, essentially feminine; and she screamed three or four times, standing where she was, her eyes on the edge of the wood.  “If that does not bring her out, nothing will!” she thought.

It brought her.  An instant, and the Countess appeared, and hurried in dismay to her side.

“What is it?” the younger woman asked, glancing over her shoulder; for all the valley, all the hills were peaceful, and behind Madame St. Lo—­but the lady had not discovered it—­the servants who had returned were laying the meal.  “What is it?” she repeated anxiously.

“Who was it?” Madame St. Lo asked curtly.  She was quite calm now.

“Who was—­who?”

“The man in the wood?”

The Countess stared a moment, then laughed.  “Only the old soldier they call Badelon, gathering simples.  Did you think that he would harm me?”

“It was not old Badelon whom I saw!” Madame St. Lo retorted.  “It was a younger man, who crept along the other side of the brook, keeping under cover.  When I first saw him he was there,” she continued, pointing to the place.  “And he crept on and on until he came opposite to you.  Then he waved his hand.”

“To me?”

Madame nodded.

“But if you saw him, who was he?” the Countess asked.

“I did not see his face,” Madame St. Lo answered.  “But he waved to you.  That I saw.”

The Countess had a thought which slowly flooded her face with crimson.  Madame St. Lo saw the change, saw the tender light which on a sudden softened the other’s eyes; and the same thought occurred to her.  And having a mind to punish her companion for her reticence—­for she did not doubt that the girl knew more than she acknowledged—­she proposed that they should return and find Badelon, and learn if he had seen the man.

“Why?” Madame Tavannes asked.  And she stood stubbornly, her head high.  “Why should we?”