Noticing a minute later that Madame Polet had finally gone back to the earlier stage of side-long glances and smiles which Landry had described to him, he continued, “I see I shall have to resort to stronger measures, for lose her I will not; there is not another match in all the countryside that would suit me equally well. But then, what am I to do with Cousin Landry? his love, it is true, upsets my arrangements; but I really cannot for so small a thing send him to join the wretched Marcotte in the other world. But what a fool I am to bother my brains about finding a way to help myself! It’s the wolf’s business, not mine?” Then in a low voice: “Black wolf,” he said, “arrange matters in such a way, that without any accident or harm happening to my Cousin Landry, I may get rid of him.” The prayer was scarcely uttered, when he caught sight of a small body of four or five men in military uniform, walking down the hill-side and coming towards the mill. Landry also saw them; for he uttered a loud cry, got up as if to run away, and then fell back in his chair, as if all power of movement had forsaken him. CHAPTER VIII THIBAULT’S WISHES The widow, on perceiving the effect which the sight of the soldiers advancing towards the mill had upon Landry, was almost as frightened as the lad himself. “Ah! dear God!” she cried, “what is the matter, my poor Landry?” “Say, what is the matter?” asked Thibault in his turn. “Alas!” replied Landry, “last Thursday, in a moment of despair, meeting the recruiting-sergeant at the _Dauphin_ Inn, I enlisted.” “In a moment of despair!” exclaimed the mistress of the mill, “and why were you in despair?” “I was in despair,” said Landry, with a mighty effort, “I was in despair because I love you.” “And it is because you loved me, unhappy boy! that you enlisted?” “Did you not say that you would turn me away from the mill?” “And have I turned you away?” asked Madame Polet, with an expression which it was impossible to misinterpret. “Ah! God! then you would not really have sent me away?” asked Landry. “Poor boy!” said the mistress of the mill, with a smile and a pitying movement of the shoulders, which, at any other time, would have made Landry almost die of joy, but, as it was, only doubled his distress. “Perhaps even now I might have time to hide,” he said. “Hide!” said Thibault, “that will be of no use, I can tell you.” “And why not?” said Madame Polet, “I am going to try, anyhow. Come, dear Landry.” And she led the young man away, with every mark of the most loving sympathy. Thibault followed them with his eyes: “It’s going badly for you, Thibault, my friend,” he said; “fortunately, let her hide him as cleverly as she may, they have a good scent, and will find him out.” In saying this, Thibault was unconscious that he was giving utterance to a fresh wish.