In truth, Sister Anne, since she had entered the cabin, being completely prostrated by fatigue, pain, and fear, had seemed to be insensible to everything that was taking place. However, she heard every word that the brigands said; but, on learning that they believed her to be deaf, a secret presentiment warned her not to correct their error. If they felt sure that she could not hear them, they would not hesitate to discuss their plans before her; thus she would learn what she must fear or hope; and perhaps they might unwittingly suggest a means of escape. That ray of hope sustained the poor girl's courage, and she strove to conceal the emotion caused by the conversation of the cutthroats. They had laid aside their arms, and while waiting for supper discoursed of their exploits. The dumb girl learned with dismay that she was among villains capable of any crime. But in the very excess of her despair she found a source of courage; and realizing at last the full extent of the perils which encompassed her, she felt that her only hope of escaping them was by craft and adroitness. If she alone were threatened with death, she would not fear it, but she wished to save the life of the being she carried within her. Mother-love has inspired many acts of heroism; it was that sentiment which sustained Sister Anne and gave her strength to endure her horrible situation. Christine placed a table in the middle of the room, and covered it with food, bottles, and glasses; the robbers seated themselves about the table, and fell to with a sort of brutal satisfaction. Sister Anne remained in front of the fire. Leroux placed bread, wine, and roast meat before her; she thanked him with an inclination of the head, and forced herself to eat a little, in order to keep up her strength and to dissemble her terror. "You see that woman?" said Leroux to his companions; "well, I'll bet she's as meek as a lamb; I'll do whatever I choose with her." "Don't trust to looks," said Christine, as she joined the robbers at the table; "a woman can take a man in with those airs and graces; but faces are deceitful." "Yours isn't, for you're the picture of Lucifer's sister!" This jest made them all laugh, they filled and emptied their glasses with startling rapidity; the more they drank, the more they talked. The hideous Christine kept pace with them, and only Leroux, whose thoughts were fixed on Sister Anne, retained some show of reason. "Where could this woman have come from?" queried one of the thieves; "she don't look as if she worked in the fields." "Bah! it's some girl that's gone wrong; her lover's left her, and she's travelling about looking for him. That's the way with all the girls that listen to lovers!" Sister Anne wiped away the tears that trembled on her eyelids, for her heart told her that the man was right. "_Morgué!_" said Christine; "if I had a daughter, and she was unlucky enough to go wrong, I'd strangle her with my own hands."