'I saw them plain enough,' she answered; 'I don't want to see them again.' 'And do you know what I want to do?' asked the crazy lady; 'I want to shut them for ever.' 'Which direction did he take?' asked M. de la Rivière. 'He fled into the forest.' 'How long ago?' 'Three nights.' 'Has the forest been searched?' 'We have done our best; but how can fifty thousand acres be thoroughly searched? We want dogs.' 'Here they are,' exclaimed madame, joyously. 'Now, Poulet, and you, Pigeon, you shall have a glorious chase after the wild beast. You shall go straight as arrows after him; you shall track him in all his wanderings, and you shall fall on him and pin him to the ground. Ah! I wish I had brought something of the Beast's here for the hounds to sniff at, to let them know what they are to chase.' 'Madame,' said the little hostess, 'the fellow dropped his handkerchief under my table, when he called my cooking execrable.' 'Bring it here,' ordered the mad woman. 'Yes, that is his!' she cried, when the discoloured kerchief was shown her. 'It is his blood,--faugh! I know its look, I know its colour, I know its scent. Give it to me.' 'Hold, madame,' interposed Pierre; 'let us conduct the dogs to the entrance of the forest.' We must go back to Berthier, who seated himself in his thicket when he had read the note, and consumed the food provided for him by the priest. The wretched man felt, for the first time since he left Versailles, relief from the agony of suspense. In a few days, if he could only reach the frontier, he would be safe; and every day that took him farther from the capital diminished the probability of his capture. 'Here, then,' said Berthier, tossing off the last drop of the wine, 'here's to my safe escape into Belgium. That priest has been a good fellow; I have a mind to leave some gold in his bottle, as a return for his kindness.' He looked into his well-furnished purse. 'No,' he said; 'I shall want all myself, if I have to remain long in a foreign land. The curé must do without.' Then rising, he threw the poor priest's bottle away, stretched himself, and began stealthily to advance eastward. He had not taken a step forward, before he heard the baying of some hounds. The note was peculiar, and was familiar to Berthier. His pale face became white as clay. 'My God!' he groaned; 'can it be!' He began to run, tearing the branches apart, and crashing through the fern. The baying approached. He uttered a cry of terror, and throwing aside his cloak ran at his utmost speed. Breaking into a forest path, he raced along that. His hat came off, but he disregarded it in the delirium of terror. The scent of burning wood entered his nostrils without being observed; he sped past a charcoal-burner's heap without noticing it. The man attending the fire sprang up and shouted. Berthier turned his head, and saw two hounds leap out of the wood and bound along the path with even gallop, easily, gracefully, at arrowy speed.