CHAPTER TWELVE.

"A few minutes later the two men went away. They paid for the wine they had drunk, but said nothing. Pierre breathed more freely when they were gone, and as both he and his two charges were very tired, they soon after went to bed: that is to say, Edmee went to the room prepared for her, and the boys made the best of their corner of the barn. It was a tumble-down old place, and there were several other out-buildings adjoining it; a disused stable was at one end, separated from it only by a wall which ran up as a partition, though leaving a space between its top and the roof. This Pierre happened to notice before he lay down. He was asleep in five minutes, but after some time, how long he knew not, he awoke with a start, something had wakened him, though he could not remember what. He lay perfectly still, and in a moment a sound from the other side of the partition wall, of which I have spoken, caught his ears. It was that of men's voices, though speaking so softly that less sharp ears than those of the forester's boy, trained to distinguish each cry of the wood-creatures, each note of the birds, could have heard nothing.

"`I tell you,' said one voice, `I am as sure as I can be. I knew that insolent tone at once, and when I looked I was certain. The girl too-- though who the third is I cannot make out. That baffled me.'

"`Then if you were so sure, why give yourself and me all this bother?' grumbled the other. `Why did you not at once seize them? It would be too bad to lose the reward after coming so far, and taking so much trouble.'

"`I have told you why,' said the other, speaking more loudly as he got angry. `They might have been too much for us; there is no telling whether they have not got friends in the village. They are in their own country now, and that Valmont lot set up to be benevolent, and all that kind of thing. No, I would not risk any scene; let us wait here quietly and watch them off in the morning--we can see which way they go, and easily take them when they are alone. You have the order for the arrest all right?'

"`Yes, but only for the two.'

"`Of course; we don't want the country lad, though, perhaps--' But here the voice grew so low that Pierre, strain his ears as he would, could hear no more, till he caught a half-surly `Good-night then' from the second speaker, and all was silent, save the beating of the poor boy's own heart, which sounded to him so unnaturally loud, that he felt as if it could not but be heard through the partition.

"And all this time Edmond was sleeping soundly; it was too dark to see him, but by listening close, Pierre heard his soft and regular breathing. What could he do? what _dared_ he do? or was it useless to attempt anything? thought poor Pierre, till he began to fear the night would pass in this sort of paralysis of terror. At last his brain began to recover itself a little. He moved himself up into a sitting position, trembling at every rustle in the hay, and at last, getting on to his feet, having slipped off his shoes, he managed to creep out at the door, without its creaking. The fresh cold air did him good, and he rapidly regained his presence of mind. There would be no difficulty in rousing Edmee, he hoped, for he knew her to be the lightest of sleepers, and she was already uneasy from the events of the evening. The little room where she was, opened out of the kitchen where they had supped, and by good chance the house door was only latched. So far, all was easy, and in five minutes the poor child, who had only partly undressed, was standing shivering beside her young protector. She took it all in, in an instant.

"`Pierrot,' she said, `there is nothing to do; there is no chance of escape for us. There is only one thing to do, save yourself. They may mean to take you too, or to kill you at once,' and Edmee shuddered, `if you make any defence. Go, Pierre--go home to your father and mother, you have no right to throw your life away uselessly.'

"But Pierre did not seem to hear her words.

"`Edmee,' he replied, `I can save _you_--we could start off at once, and hide in the woods till they have lost all trace of us--we should be hours in advance of them. But oh, Edmee, it is Edmond! And I promised--I promised the Countess not to desert him.'

"`No,' said Edmee, determinedly, `we _cannot_ desert him.'

"They then consulted together--how to wake him without being heard by the two men was the terrible question. He was a heavy sleeper, especially when tired, and from his delicate health and nervousness he was always irritable if awakened before his sleep was completed.

"`He is sure, _certain_ to scream out crossly, and then all will be over,' said Edmee, her teeth chattering with cold and terror.

"`Then there is only one thing to be done,' said Pierre. `Have you your bag ready, Edmee?' The girl nodded as she held it up. `You have nothing left in the house? That is right; my bundle and Edmond's are just as they were--only we must leave some money to pay for our supper and lodging. Here, I will slip in and place it on the table. Now we must both creep back into the barn--you to help me in case of need. I have here a large, strong handkerchief; I will gag Edmond before he has time to make a sound--he is so feeble it will be easily done; then if you can take the baggage I will carry him on my back till we are well out of hearing, and then explain all.'

"`He will struggle fearfully,' said Edmee. `Perhaps--perhaps, Pierre, if I whisper in his ear that it is we who are doing it to save him, he will be quiet.'

"`_After_ he is gagged, if you like,' said Pierre; `but not before. We must run no risk; our lives hang on the thinnest of threads, Edmee. Come, try not to tremble so--oh, my poor little lady, if I could have spared you this!'

"Edmee hesitated.

"`Dear Pierrot,' she said, `I think perhaps if I were to say a little prayer to the good God to help and save us, it would make me leave off trembling so.'

"Pierre answered by uncovering his head, and then, at a sign from Edmee, he knelt down beside her on the grass, for they had crept back behind the house, and there the two young creatures prayed with earnest and simple words for the help they so sorely needed--`or,' whispered Edmee, `if we do not escape, for courage to bear whatever is before us.'

"Then she rose to her feet.

"`I am not trembling now,' she said. `Pierrot dear, kiss me once before we go; for we don't know, we may fail.'

"Pierrot kissed her; he could not have spoken had he tried.

"He led the way to the barn. Pierre crept in first to reconnoitre; all was quiet, and as he had left it, he reported, when he crept out again, bringing his own and Edmond's bundles, which, with her bag, he and Edmee carried a little way into the shelter of the wood hard by, so that the girl's hands might be free, if need were, to help him with the much more troublesome piece of baggage--Edmond. Then they both made their way in again, Edmee standing a little aside, while Pierre, by the very faint moonlight which came in through the open doorway, satisfied himself as to the exact position in which Edmond lay, before attempting to gag and seize him. How he succeeded he could never himself tell, but succeed he