And the three women were forthwith overcome with a great sense of peace. After the rush of events that had come upon them like a tempest, it seemed to them as though nothing could touch them now. The phantom of death vanished from their minds. A man had been shot, no doubt, but that didn't matter, because the man was not one of theirs. And the gladness that revived them was such that they could almost have laughed. And, once again, Catherine appeared. She announced that Victor was returning. And the three women saw a man spurring his horse at the mouth of the pass, at the imminent risk of breaking his neck on the steep slope of the road. It was soon apparent, when the man reached the Etang-des-Moines, that some one was following him with swift strides; and Marthe uttered cries of joy at recognizing the tall figure of her husband. She waved her handkerchief. Philippe answered the signal. "It's he!" she said, almost swooning. "It's he, mamma.... I am sure that he'll be able to tell us everything ... and that M. Morestal is not far off...." "Let us go and meet them," Suzanne suggested. "Yes, I'll go," said Marthe, quickly. "You stay here, Suzanne ... stay with mamma." She darted away, eager to be the first to welcome Philippe and recovering enough strength to run to the bottom of the slope: "Philippe! Philippe!" she cried. "You are back at last...." He lifted her off the ground and pressed her to him: "My darling, I hear that you have been uneasy.... You need not have been.... I will tell you all about it...." "Yes, you will tell us.... But come ... come quick and kiss your mother and reassure her...." She dragged him along. They climbed the staircase and, on reaching the terrace, he suddenly found himself in the presence of Suzanne, who was waiting, convulsed with jealousy and hatred. Philippe's emotion was so great that he did not even offer her his hand. Besides, at that moment, Mme. Morestal ran up to him: "Your father?" "Alive." And Suzanne, in her turn: "Papa?" "Alive also.... They have both been carried off by the German police, near the frontier." "What? Prisoners?" "Yes." "They haven't hurt them?" The three women all stood round him and pressed him with questions. He replied, laughing: "A little calmness, first.... I confess I feel rather dazed.... This makes two exciting nights.... Also, I am simply starving." His shoes and clothes were grey with dust. There was blood on one of his shirt-cuffs. "You are wounded!" cried Marthe. "No ... not I.... I'll explain to you...." Catherine brought him a cup of coffee, which he swallowed greedily, and he began: "It was about five o'clock in the morning when I got up; and I certainly had no idea, when I left my room ..." Marthe was stupefied. Why did Philippe say that he had slept there? Did he not know that his absence had been discovered? But then why tell that lie?