"Yes. Now listen; but remember that this is a secret which till this moment has been only known to me, and which even now must go no further than ourselves."
The three Bretons, who were deeply interested, gave the required promises.
"Well," said Pontcalec, "this college friendship of which Montlouis speaks had undergone some change between Caradec and myself, on account of a rivalry. We loved the same woman, and I was loved by her.
"One day I determined to hunt the stag in the forest of Chateaubriant; my dogs and huntsmen had been sent out the day before, and I was on my way to the rendezvous, when, on the road before me, I saw an enormous f.a.got walking along. This did not surprise me, for our peasants carry such enormous f.a.gots, that they quite disappear under their load; but this f.a.got appeared from behind to move alone. Soon it stopped; an old woman, turning round, showed her face to me. As I approached, I could not take my eyes off her, for I recognized the sorceress of Savernay, who had predicted the misfortune caused by my white pony.
"My first impulse, I confess, was to take another road, and avoid the prophetess of evil; but she had already seen me, and she seemed to wait for me with a smile full of malice. I was ten years older than when her first threat had frightened me. I was ashamed to go back.
""Good-day, Viscount de Pontcalec," said she; "how is the Marquis de Guer?"
""Well, good woman; and I shall be quite easy about him, if you will a.s.sure me that nothing will happen to him during my absence."
""Ah! ah!" said she laughing; "you have not forgotten the plains of Savernay. You have a good memory, viscount; but yet, if I gave you some advice, you would not follow it any more than the first time. Man is blind."
""And what is your advice?"
""Not to go hunting to-day."
""Why not?"
""And to return at once to Pontcalec."
""I cannot; I have a rendezvous with some friends at Chateaubriant."
""So much the worse, viscount, for blood will be spilled."
""Mine?"
""Yours, and another"s."
""Bah! are you mad?"
""So said your uncle Crysogon. How is he?"
""Do you not know that he died seven years ago at Morlaix?"
""Poor fellow!" said the woman, "like you, he would not believe: at length he beheld, but it was too late."
"I shuddered involuntarily; but a false shame whispered that it would be cowardly to give way, and that doubtless the fulfillment of the pretended witch"s former prediction had been but a chance.
""Ah! I see that a former experience has not made you wiser, my fine fellow," said she. "Well, go to Chateaubriant then, since you must have it so, but at least send back that handsome hunting-knife."
""And with what will monsieur cut the stag"s foot?" asked the servant who followed me.
""With your knife," said the old woman.
""That stag is a royal animal," replied the servant, "and deserves a hunting-knife."
""Besides," said I, "you said my blood would flow. What means that?--I shall be attacked, and if so, I shall want it to defend myself."
""I do not know what it means," replied the old woman; "but I do know, that in your place, my brave gentleman, I would listen to a poor old woman, and that I would not go to Chateaubriant; or, if I did go, it would be without my hunting-knife."
""Do not listen to the old witch, monsieur," said the servant, who was doubtless afraid to take the fatal weapon.
"If I had been alone, I should have returned; but before my servant I did not like to do so.
""Thank you, my good, woman," said I, "but really I do not see what reason there is for not going to Chateaubriant. As to my knife, I shall keep it; if I be attacked, I must have a weapon to defend myself."
""Go, then, and defend yourself," said the old woman, shaking her head; "we cannot escape our destiny."
"I heard no more. I urged my horse to a gallop; but, turning a corner, I saw that the old woman had resumed her route, and I lost sight of her.
"An hour after I was in the forest of Chateaubriant; and I met you, Montlouis and Talhouet, for you were both of the party."
"It is true," said Talhouet, "and I began to understand."
"And I," said Montlouis.
"But I know nothing of it," said Du Couedic; "so pray continue, Pontcalec."
"Our dogs started the deer, and we set off in pursuit; but we were not the only hunters in the forest--at a distance we heard the sound of another pack, which gradually approached; soon the two crossed, and some of my dogs by mistake went after the wrong deer. I ran after them to stop them, which separated me from you. You followed the rest of our pack; but some one had forestalled me. I heard the howls of my dogs under the lash of a whip; I redoubled my pace, and found the Baron de Caradec striking them. I told you there were causes of dislike between us, which only needed an opportunity to burst out. I asked him why he struck my dogs. His reply was haughtier than my question. We were alone--we were both twenty years of age--we were rivals--each was armed.
We drew our knives--threw ourselves one upon the other, and Caradec fell from his horse, pierced through the body. To tell you what I felt when I saw him, bleeding and writhing in agony, would be impossible; I spurred my horse, and darted through the forest like a madman.
"I heard the voices of the hunters, and I arrived, one of the first, but I remember--do you remember it, Montlouis?--that you asked me why I was so pale."
"I do," said Montlouis.
"Then I remembered the advice of the sorceress, and reproached myself bitterly for neglecting it. This solitary and fatal duel seemed to me like an a.s.sa.s.sination. Nantes and its environs became insupportable to me, for every day I heard of the murder of Caradec. It is true that no one suspected me, but the secret voice of my conscience spoke so loud that twenty times I was on the point of denouncing myself.
"Then I left Nantes and went to Paris, but not until I had searched for the sorceress; not knowing either her name or her residence, I could not find her."
"It is strange," said Talhouet; "and have you ever seen her since?"
"Wait," said Pontcalec, "and listen, for now comes the terrible part.
This winter--or rather last autumn--I say winter, because there was snow falling, though it was only in November--I was returning from Guer, and had ordered a halt at Pontcalec-des-Aulnes, after a day during which I had been shooting snipes in the marshes with two of my tenants. We arrived, benumbed with cold, at the rendezvous, and found a good fire and supper awaiting us.
"As I entered, and received the salutations and compliments of my people, I perceived in the chimney-corner an old woman wrapped in a large gray-and-black cloak, who appeared to be asleep.
""Who is that?" I asked of the farmer, and trembling involuntarily.
""An old beggar, whom I do not know, and she looks like a witch," said he; "but she was perishing with cold, hunger and fatigue. She came begging; I told her to come in, and gave her a piece of bread, which she eat while she warmed herself, and now she has gone to sleep."
"The figure moved slightly in its corner.
""What has happened to you, Monsieur le Marquis," asked the farmer"s wife, "that you are so wet, and that your clothes are splashed with mud up to the shoulder?"
""You nearly had to dine without me, my good Martine," I replied, "although this repast and this fire were prepared for me."----""Truly!"