“Mon dieu!  Mon dieu!  Why am I here?”

She was mad to have come.  And as if seized with fear, she ran; she sought to leave the forest.  Three times she deceived herself; she thought she never again would find the mill, when she entered a meadow just opposite Rocreuse.  As soon as she saw the village she paused.  Was she going to return alone?  She was still hesitating when a voice softly called: 

“Francoise!  Francoise!”

And she saw Dominique, who had raised his head above the edge of a ditch.  Just God!  She had found him!  Did heaven wish his death?  She restrained a cry; she let herself glide into the ditch.

“Are you searching for me?” asked the young man.

“Yes,” she answered, her brain in a whirl, not knowing what she said.

“What has happened?”

She lowered her eyes, stammered: 

“Nothing.  I was uneasy; I wanted to see you.”

Then, reassured, he explained to her that he had resolved not to go away.  He was doubtful about the safety of herself and her father.  Those Prussian wretches were fully capable of taking vengeance upon women and old men.  But everything was getting on well.  He added with a laugh: 

“Our wedding will take place in a week—­I am sure of it.”

Then as she remained overwhelmed, he grew grave again and said: 

“But what ails you?  You are concealing something from me!”

“No; I swear it to you.  I am out of breath from running.”

He embraced her, saying that it was imprudent for them to be talking, and he wished to climb out of the ditch to return to the forest.  She restrained him.  She trembled.

“Listen,” she said:  “it would, perhaps, be wise for you to remain where you are.  No one is searching for you; you have nothing to fear.”

“Francoise, you are concealing something from me,” he repeated.

Again she swore that she was hiding nothing.  She had simply wished to know that he was near her.  And she stammered forth still further reasons.  She seemed so strange to him that he now could not be induced to flee.  Besides, he had faith in the return of the French.  Troops had been seen in the direction of Sauval.

“Ah, let them hurry; let them get here as soon as possible,” she murmured fervently.

At that moment eleven o’clock sounded from the belfry of Rocreuse.  The strokes were clear and distinct.  She arose with a terrified look; two hours had passed since she quitted the mill.

“Hear me,” she said rapidly:  “if we have need of you I will wave my handkerchief from my chamber window.”

And she departed on a run, while Dominique, very uneasy, stretched himself out upon the edge of the ditch to watch the mill.  As she was about to enter Rocreuse, Francoise met an old beggar, Pere Bontemps, who knew everybody in the district.  He bowed to her; he had just seen the miller in the midst of the Prussians; then, making the sign of the cross and muttering broken words, he went on his way.