"Mind what you say!" cried the officer furiously. "I do not know

what prevents me from setting fire to the four corners of the
village!"

Happily in his rage he did not notice the deep trouble pictured on
Francoise's countenance. She had been forced to sit down on a stone

bench near the well. Despite herself her eyes were fixed upon the
corpse stretched our on the ground almost at her feet. It was that

of a tall and handsome man who resembled Dominique, with flaxen hair
and blue eyes. This resemblance made her heart ache. She thought

that perhaps the dead soldier had left behind him in Germany a
sweetheart who would weep her eyes out for him. She recognized her

knife in the throat of the murdered man. She had killed him.
The officer was talking of striking Rocreuse with terrible measures,

when soldiers came running to him. Dominique's escape had just been
discovered. It caused an extremeagitation. The officer went to

the apartment in which the prisoner had been confined, looked out of
the window which had remained open, understood everything and

returned, exasperated.
Pere Merlier seemed greatly vexed by Dominique's flight.

"The imbecile!" he muttered. "He has ruined all!"
Francoise heard him and was overcome with anguish. But the miller

did not suspect her of complicity in the affair. He tossed his
head, saying to her in an undertone:

"We are in a nice scrape!"
"It was that wretch who assassinated the soldier! I am sure of it!"

cried the officer. "He has undoubtedly reached the forest. But he
must be found for us or the village shall pay for him!"

Turning to the miller, he said:
"See here, you ought to know where he is hidden!"

Pere Merlier laughed silently, pointing to the wide stretch of
wooden hills.

"Do you expect to find a man in there?" he said.
"Oh, there must be nooks there with which you are acquainted. I

will give you ten men. You must guide them."
"As you please. But it will take a week to search all the wood in

the vicinity."
The old man's tranquillity enraged the officer. In fact, the latter

comprehended the asburdity of this search. At that moment he saw
Francoise, pale and trembling, on the bench. The anxious attitude

of the young girl struck him. He was silent for an instant, during
which he in turn examined the miller and his daughter.

At length he demanded roughly of the old man:
"Is not that fellow your child's lover?"

Pere Merlier grew livid and seemed about to hurl himself upon the
officer to strangle him. He stiffened himself but made no answer.

Francoise buried her face in her hands.
"Yes, that's it!" continued the Prussian. "And you or your daughter

helped him to escape! One of you is his accomplice! For the last
time, will you give him up to us?"

The miller uttered not a word. He turned away and looked into space
with an air of indifference, as if the officer had not addressed

him. This brought the latter's rage to a head.
"Very well!" he shouted. "You shall be shot in his place!"

And he again ordered out the platoon of execution. Pere Merlier
remained as stoical as ever. He hardly even shrugged his shoulders;

all this drama appeared to him in bad taste. Without doubt he did
not believe that they would shoot a man so lightly. But when the

platoon drew up before him he said gravely:
"So it is serious, is it? Go on with your bloody work then! If you

must have a victim I will do as well as another!"
But Francoise started up, terrified, stammering:

"In pity, monsieur, do no harm to my father! Kill me in his stead!
I aided Dominique to fly! I alone am guilty!"

"Hush, my child!" cried Pere Merlier. "Why do you tell an untruth?
She passed the night locked in her chamber, monsieur. She tells a

falsehood, I assure you!"
"No, I do not tell a falsehood!" resumed the young girl ardently.

"I climbed out of my window and went down the iron ladder; I urged
Dominique to fly. This is the truth, the whole truth!"

The old man became very pale. He saw clearly in her eyes that she
did not lie, and her story terrified him. Ah, these children with

their hearts, how they spoil everything! Then he grew angry and
exclaimed:

"She is mad; do not heed her. She tells you stupid tales. Come,
finish your work!"

She still protested. She knelt, clasping her hands. The officer
tranquilly watched this dolorous struggle.

"MON DIEU!" he said at last. "I take your father because I have not
the other. Find the fugitive and the old man shall be set at

liberty!"
She gazed at him with staring eyes, astonished at the atrocity of

the proposition.
"How horrible!" she murmured. "Where do you think I can find

Dominique at this hour? He has departed; I know no more about him."
"Come, make your choice--him or your father."

"Oh, MON DIEU! How can I choose? If I knew where Dominique was I
could not choose! You are cutting my heart. I would rather die at

once. Yes, it would be the sooner over. Kill me, I implore you,
kill me!"

This scene of despair and tears finally made the officer impatient.
He cried out:

"Enough! I will be merciful. I consent to give you two hours. If
in that time your lover is not here your father will be shot in his

place!"
He caused Pere Merlier to be taken to the chamber which had served

as Dominique's prison. The old man demanded tobacco and began to
smoke. Upon his impassible face not the slightest emotion was

visible. But when alone, as he smoked, he shed two big tears which
ran slowly down his cheeks. His poor, dear child, how she was

suffering!
Francoise remained in the middle of the courtyard. Prussian

soldiers passed, laughing. Some of them spoke to her, uttered jokes
she could not understand. She stared at the door through which her

father had disappeared. With a slow movement she put her hand to
her forehead, as if to prevent it from bursting.

The officer turned upon his heel, saying:
"You have two hours. Try to utilize them."

She had two hours. This phrase buzzed in her ears. Then
mechanically she quitted the courtyard; she walked straight ahead.

Where should she go?--what should she do? She did not even try to
make a decision because she well understood the inutility of her

efforts. However, she wished to see Dominique. They could have an
understanding together; they might, perhaps, find an expedient. And

amid the confusion of her thoughts she went down to the shore of the
Morelle, which she crossed below the sluice at a spot where there

were huge stones. Her feet led her beneath the first willow, in the
corner of the meadow. As she stooped she saw a pool of blood which

made her turn pale. It was there the murder had been committed.
She followed the track of Dominique in the trodden grass; he must

have run, for she perceived a line of long footprints stretching
across the meadow. Then farther on she lost these traces. But in a

neighboring field she thought she found them again. The new trail
conducted her to the edge of the forest, where every indication was

effaced.