Since
noon Francoise had been torn by terrible anguish. Despite her father's
entreaties she would not quit the courtyard. She was awaiting the
French. But the hours sped on; night was approaching, and she suffered
the more as all the time gained did not seem to be likely to change the
frightful denouement.
About three o'clock the Prussians made their preparations for departure.
For an instant past the officer had, as on the previous day, shut
himself up with Dominique. Francoise realized that the young man's life
was in balance. She clasped her hands; she prayed. Pere Merlier, beside
her, maintained silence and the rigid attitude of an old peasant who
does not struggle against fate.
"Oh, MON DIEU! Oh, MON DIEU!" murmured Francoise. "They are going to
kill him!"
The miller drew her to him and took her on his knees as if she had been
a child.
At that moment the officer came out, while behind him two men brought
Dominique.
"Never! Never!" cried the latter. "I am ready to die!"
"Think well," resumed the officer. "The service you refuse me another
will render us. I am generous: I offer you your life. I want you simply
to guide us through the forest to Montredon. There must be pathways
leading there.
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