Understanding her feelings, Monsieur Eugène quietly rose and opened the door for her. Sad and troubled, Catherine went away. As she was passing the inn she heard a loud discussion going on. Andoche’s voice could be heard above all the others, but Firmin too was talking loudly, trying to defend himself against their taunts. “She is pretty, to be sure, Firmin,” Fadard was saying, “but you must run a great risk.” “Can it be that you have been to the war?” asked another. “What a gay cavalier you are,” declared a third. “May you live to grow old,” cried Fadard, sarcastically. “Stop!” shouted Firmin, at last, “or you will be sorry.” “About what?” “Well, you just wait long enough and he will do you up in the same way, Monsieur; and then we shall see how much there is to your boasted bravery. You are as much of a poacher as anybody.” “Look out--here comes Savin’s wife.” “Well, she will shut his mouth quick enough.” Firmin seized a bottle and brandished it over the head of Nicolas, the last speaker. Andoche interposed, and Firmin, availing himself of the opportunity to escape, ran out of the inn and soon overtook Catherine on the road. She greeted him with an air of hauteur. “I know what a coward you are,” she said. “I see I can look to you for nothing.” “I will kill him to-night.” “Oh, come, you are only boasting.” “I will kill him, I tell you!” “And _I_ don’t believe you.” With a savage gesture Firmin turned and left her. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV. CRIME. In her soul Catherine felt quite positive that Firmin would not dare perpetrate the act he had voluntarily promised to do; still she resolved to keep Savin out that night, if possible. By a grim fatality, however, Savin went abroad on his own account. When Catherine reached home she found him still sound asleep. Overcome by fatigue, he had dropped into slumber without removing his clothes several hours before. At about five o’clock in the afternoon he awoke with a sudden start, ate a bit of luncheon, and then set to work cleaning his gun, being thus and in other ways engaged until nearly ten o’clock, when without a word he shouldered his weapon and started out of the house. To Catherine there was something grewsomely suggestive in the departure of the man whom she might never see again alive. Involuntarily she advanced as though to call him back. But pride, in collusion with baser feelings, conquered her, and the wretched woman lingered with her hand on the door-knob until the sound of his retreating steps had died away and all was still. Then she sought her bed, but her intention to go to sleep calmly was frustrated. In a short time she began to weigh her means of defence in case she were complicated in the proposed crime.