Marthe reached the pond about three in the morning, and left the dog as sentinel on the bank.  After half an hour’s labor in clearing the entrance she came with a dark lantern to the door of the cave, her face covered with a mask, which she had found, as directed, on the steps.  The imprisonment of the senator seemed to have been long premeditated.  A hole about a foot square, which Marthe had never seen before, was roughly cut in the upper part of the iron door which closed the cave; but in order to prevent Malin from using the time and patience all prisoners have at their command in loosening the iron bar which held the door, it was securely fastened with a padlock.

The senator, who had risen from his bed of moss, sighed when he saw the masked face and felt that there was no chance then of his deliverance.  He examined Marthe, as much as he could by the unsteady light of her dark lantern, and he recognized her by her clothes, her stoutness, and her motions.  When she passed the pate through the door he dropped it to seize her hand and then, with great swiftness, he tried to pull the rings from her fingers,—­one her wedding-ring, the other a gift from Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne.

“You cannot deny that it is you, my dear Madame Michu,” he said.

Marthe closed her fist the moment she felt his fingers, and gave him a vigorous blow in the chest.  Then, without a word, she turned away and cut a stick, at the end of which she held out to the senator the rest of the provisions.

“What do they want of me?” he asked.

Marthe departed giving him no answer.  By five o’clock she had reached the edge of the forest and was warned by Couraut of the presence of strangers.  She retraced her steps and made for the pavilion where she had lived so long; but just as she entered the avenue she was seen from afar by the forester of Gondreville, and she quickly reflected that her best plan was to go straight up to him.

“You are out early, Madame Michu,” he said, accosting her.

“We are so unfortunate,” she replied, “that I am obliged to do a servant’s work myself.  I am going to Bellache for some grain.”

“Haven’t you any at Cinq-Cygne?” said the forester.

Marthe made no answer.  She continued on her way and reached the farm at Bellache, where she asked Beauvisage to give her some seed-grain, saying that Monsieur d’Hauteserre advised her to get it from him to renew her crop.  As soon as Marthe had left the farm, the forester went there to find out what she asked for.

Six days later, Marthe, determined to be prudent, went at midnight with her provisions so as to avoid the keepers who were evidently patrolling the forest.  After carrying a third supply to the senator she suddenly became terrified on hearing the abbe read aloud the public examination of the prisoners,—­for the trial was by that time begun.  She took the abbe aside, and after obliging him to swear that he would keep the secret she was about to reveal as though it was said to him in the confessional, she showed him the fragments of Michu’s letter, told him the contents of it, and also the secret of the hiding-place where the senator then was.