Marescal did not stir, his legs in the water, his features contorted with horror, he gazed at the accursed spot as if he were gazing at the mouth of Hell. His hat was floating towards it; mud and water dripped from his hair and beard. “Is it p-p-possible—is it p-p-possible?” he stammered. “Aurelie! Aurelie! Aurelie!” A shout from his men awoke him from his stupor. They made a long circuit and reached him ten minutes later. They found him drying himself. “Is it true?” he asked. “What?” said one of the men. “The boat? The gulf?” He no longer knew. In this way in nightmares abominable visions pass, leaving an impression of terrible realities. The three of them made their way above the mouth of the cavern which opened in a rock crowned with brambles, its surface covered with water-plants. The water flowed into it in narrow rapids from which rose the rounded and shining tops of large boulders. They bent over the edge of the rock and listened. Nothing. Nothing but the murmur of hurrying waters—nothing but a cold blast, which rose white with flecks of foam. “It’s hell!” murmured Marescal. “It’s one of the mouths of hell.” Then he went on: “She is dead—she is drowned. How stupid! What a terrible death! If that damned fool had only left her alone—I should have—I should have——” They went away through the woods. Marescal jogged along in a kind of stupor. Several times his companions questioned him. They were shady loafers whom he had picked up for this expedition and not regular men in his service; and he had only informed them roughly of his plans. He did not answer them. He thought of Aurelie, so gracious and so full of life, whom he loved so passionately. He was harassed by memories of her, by remorse and terror. He was indeed uneasy in mind. The coming inquiry might very well involve him and throw part of the blame for this tragic accident on him. In that case it meant a scandal and ruin. Bregeac would be pitiless; he would be indefatigable in his efforts to avenge his step-daughter. Presently he could think of nothing but getting out of that part of the country as quietly as possible. He frightened his two assistants by telling them that a common danger menaced them and that it was imperative, if they would escape it, that each should go his own way and look after himself before the alarm was given and their presence marked. He gave them twice the money he had promised them, made a circuit round Luz, and took the road to Pierrefitte-Nestales in the hope of finding some conveyance which would bring him to the railway station in time for the seven o’clock train that evening. It was not till he had walked three kilometers from Luz that a small two-wheeled cart, covered with a tarpaulin and driven by a countryman wrapped in a large cloak and wearing a Basque cap, overtook him. He stopped the cart with an air of authority and said imperiously: “Five francs if you get me to Pierrefitte-Nestales in time to catch the train.”