The ground in the neighborhood of the marl-pit was so irregular, and the thorny underbrush so thick, that when pedestrians wished to reach the nearest highway they, were compelled either to make a long detour or to cross the deepest part of the excavation by means of the trunks of two great trees, which had been cut in half, lashed together, and thrown across the chasm.  Thus they formed a crude bridge, affording a passage across the deep hollow and adding to the picturesque aspect of this romantic spot.

Madame de Camors never had seen anything like this peculiar bridge, which had been laid recently at her husband’s orders.  After they had gazed in silence a moment into the depths of the marl-pit, Camors called his wife’s attention to the unique construction.

“Do you intend to cross that?” she asked, briefly.

“Yes, if you are not afraid,” said Camors; “I shall be close beside you, you know.”

He saw that she hesitated, and, looking at her closely in the moonlight, he thought her face was strangely pale, and could not refrain from saying: 

“I believed that you had more courage.”

She hesitated no longer, but stepped upon the dangerous bridge.  In spite of herself, she turned her head half around, in a backward glance, and her steady step faltered.  Suddenly she tottered.  M. de Camors sprang forward, and, in the agitation of the moment, seized her in an almost violent grasp.  The unhappy woman uttered a piercing shriek, made a gesture as if to defend herself, repelling his touch; then, running wildly across the bridge, she rushed into the woods.  M. de Camors, astounded, alarmed, not knowing how to interpret his wife’s strange conduct, immediately followed her.  He found her a short distance beyond the bridge, leaning against the first tree she had been able to reach.  She turned to face him, with an expression of mingled terror and menace, and as he approached, she shot forth the single word: 

“Coward!”

He stared at her in sheer amazement.  At that moment there was a sound of hurried footsteps; a shadowy form glided toward them from the depth of the thicket, and the next instant Camors recognized Madame de Tecle.  She ran, dishevelled and breathless, toward her daughter, seized her by the hand and, drawing herself up, said to Camors: 

“If you kill one of us, kill both!”

He understood the mystery in a flash.  A stifled cry escaped him; for an instant he buried his face in his hands; then; flinging out his arms in a gesture of despair, he said: 

“So you took me for a murderer!”

There was a moment of dead silence.

“Well!” he cried, stamping his foot with sudden violence, “why do you stay here, then?  Run!  Fly!  Save yourselves from me!”

Overcome with terror, the two women fled, the mother dragging her daughter.  The next moment they had disappeared in the darkness of the woods.