But Babet would not touch her. She made a wide circle to avoid any contact, and drawing a knife from her own wallet, began to cut the bands about Rosaline’s feet and hands, all the while pouring out a torrent of sympathy and self-reproach. Why had she left her lamb to fall among wolves? Rosaline was too faint for any words except a murmur of thanksgiving, and the air was filled with Mère Tigrane’s oaths as she writhed helpless before le Bossu’s pistol. He was watching Babet. “Do not cut the long rope,” he said grimly; “untie it--we have need of it.” At this, la Louve began to howl, rocking to and fro. “You villain!” she whined, “you dare not hang me! M. de Baudri is coming; you will be punished--” She went on with a stream of oaths. Le Bossu stopped her. “Another word,” he said, “and I’ll shoot you. You will not be hung, though you deserve it. Babet, stuff those dirty rags in her mouth, we have heard enough.” Babet obeyed this time, first relieving the hag of her knife and binding her hands. “There’s some dinner for you to chew, my beauty,” Babet said pleasantly, and proceeded to tie her feet. “Now the rope,” ordered the cobbler; “slip it twice around her waist--that is it; draw her back to the post and tie it securely.” He helped Babet in this, putting the pistol back into his bosom. Mère Tigrane was black in the face with rage, but she could offer no resistance; only, her terrible eyes leered at them--red as blood. Rosaline had gone out and was leaning against a tree, her face colorless and her hands clasped. When the others joined her, she turned and threw her arms about Babet and burst into tears, too overcome to speak. The woman tried to comfort and soothe her. “’Twas Truffe who found you,” she said, “bless the creature! The cobbler and I would have been searching still, but suddenly she put her nose to the ground and came straight as an arrow!” Le Bossu was not listening to them; he had walked a few yards into the wood and knelt down, bending his head close to the ground. When he arose his face was white and he moved quickly toward them. “Have courage, mademoiselle,” he said quietly, “but let us be gone, there are horsemen in the road by St. Cyr; the dragoons have returned.” CHAPTER XXIII THE COBBLER’S BARGAIN