"On the contrary, I tell you that I do know perfectly well why I am hiding here with my gun." "Then Jean François was right," said the poor mother, pretending to be reassured. "What he told me was true." "What did he tell you?" "That you were poaching in the Pont Brillant woods. You can judge of my anxiety when I heard that, so I hastened here at once with Jean François, for it is frightfully imprudent in you, my poor child. Don't you know that M. le marquis--" The words M. le marquis startled Frederick out of his terrible calmness. He clenched his fists furiously and, confronting his mother with a ferocious expression upon his face, exclaimed: "It was M. le marquis I was lying in wait for; do you hear me, mother?" "No, Frederick, no," replied the poor mother, shuddering. "I am determined to make myself understood, then," said Frederick, with a frightful smile. "Knowing that M. le marquis would pass here about nightfall on his way home, I loaded my gun and came and concealed myself behind this tree to kill M. le marquis as he passed. Do you understand me now, mother?" On hearing this terrible confession, Madame Bastien's brain reeled for a moment; then she showed herself to be truly heroic. Placing one of her hands on her son's shoulder, she laid the other on his forehead, saying in a calm, perfectly calm, voice, and as if talking to herself: "How hot his poor head is, and he is still delirious with fever! My God, oh, my God, how can I induce him to follow me?" Frederick, amazed by his mother's words and her apparent tranquillity after the terrible confession he had just made, exclaimed: "I am perfectly sane, I tell you, mother. It is you as much as myself that I wish to avenge, and my hatred, you see--" "Yes, yes, my child, I know," interrupted Madame Bastien, too much terrified to notice Frederick's last words. Then, kissing him on the forehead, she said, soothingly: "Yes, yes, of course you have your senses, so come home with me; for it is getting late and we have been out in these woods a long time." "The place suits me well enough and I shall come back again," answered Frederick, sullenly. "Of course we will come back again, my child, but in order to do that we shall first have to go away." "Don't exasperate me too much, mother." "Hush, hush, I implore you," whispered Marie, placing her hand upon her son's lips and listening breathlessly. "Don't you hear footsteps? My God, who is coming?" Frederick caught up his gun. "Ah, I know," murmured his mother, recovering from her alarm, after a moment's reflection, "it is Jean François. He was to search for you in one side of the grove while I searched in the other." "Is that you, Jean François?" she called out, cautiously. "Yes, Madame Bastien," replied the worthy farmer, who was not yet visible but who could be distinctly heard forcing his way through the branches. "I did not find M. Frederick." "My son is here, Jean François."