All the energy with which she had been working to free Desnoyers
disappeared on seeing him again. "Oh, Master . . . Master," she moaned
convulsively; and she flung herself into his arms, bursting into tears.
Don Marcelo did not need to ask anything further; he dreaded to know the
truth. Nevertheless, he asked after her husband. Now that he was awake
and free, he cherished the fleeting hope that what he had gone through
the night before was but another of his nightmares. Perhaps the poor man
was still living. . . .
"They killed him, Monsieur. That man who seemed so good murdered him.
. . . And I don't know where his body is; nobody will tell me."
She had a suspicion that the corpse was in the fosse. The green and
tranquil waters had closed mysteriously over this victim of the night.
. . . Desnoyers suspected that another sorrow was troubling the mother
still more, but he kept modestly silent. It was she who finally spoke,
between outbursts of grief. . . . Georgette was now in the lodge.
Horror-stricken and shuddering, she had fled there when the invaders had
left the castle. They had kept her in their power until the last minute.
"Oh, Master, don't look at her. . . . She is trembling and sobbing at
the thought that you may speak with her about what she has gone through.
She is almost out of her mind. She longs to die! Ay, my little girl!
.
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