It was very probable that De Chaumont’s household gave itself no trouble about my disappearance.  I sat on my hemlock floor until the gray of twilight and studied Latin, keeping my mind on the text; save when a squirrel ventured out and glided bushy trained and sinuous before me, or the marble birches with ebony limbs, drew me to gloat on them.  The white birch is a woman and a goddess.  I have associated her forever with that afternoon.  Her poor cousin the poplar, often so like her as to deceive you until ashen bough and rounded leaf instruct the eye, always grows near her like a protecting servant.  The poor cousin rustles and fusses.  But my calm lady stands in perfect beauty, among pines straight as candles, never tremulous, never trivial.  All alabaster and ebony, she glows from a distance; as, thinking of her, I saw another figure glow through the loop-holes of the woods.

It was Madame de Ferrier.

VIII

A leap of the heart and dizziness shot through me and blurred my sight.  The reality of Madame de Ferrier’s coming to seek me surpassed all imaginings.

She walked with quick accustomed step, parting the second growth in her way, having tracked me from the boat.  Seeing my lodge in the ravine she paused, her face changing as the lake changes; and caught her breath.  I stood exultant and ashamed down to the ground.

“Monsieur, what are you doing here?” Madame de Ferrier cried out.

“Living, madame,” I responded.

“Living?  Do you mean you have returned to your old habits?”

“I have returned to the woods, madame.”

“You do not intend to stay here?”

“Perhaps.”

“You must not do it!”

“What must I do?”

“Come back to the house.  You have given us much anxiety.”

I liked the word “us” until I remembered it included Count de Chaumont.

“Why did you come out here and hide yourself?”

My conduct appeared contemptible.  I looked mutely at her.

“What offended you?”

“Nothing, madame.”

“Did you want Doctor Chantry to lame himself hobbling around in search of you, and the count to send people out in every direction?”

“No, madame.”

“What explanation will you make to the count?”

“None, madame.”  I raised my head.  “I may go out in the woods without asking leave of Count de Chaumont.”

“He says you have forsaken your books and gone back to be an Indian.”

I showed her the Latin book in my hand.  She glanced slightly at it, and continued to make her gray eyes pass through my marrow.

Shifting like a culprit, I inquired: 

“How did you know I was here?”

“Oh, it was not hard to find you after I saw the boat.  This island is not large.”

“But who rowed you across the lake, madame?”

“I came by myself, and nobody except Ernestine knows it.  I can row a boat.  I slipped through the tunnel, and ventured.”