"She's hiding there, because she's afraid of that bad black man, and so
am I."

"Oh! don't you be afraid; I am here--Marie! Marie! it's me!"

Marie came crawling out from the bushes, and as soon as she saw Germain,
whom the farmer was following close, she ran and threw herself into his
arms; and, clinging to him like a daughter to her father, she exclaimed:

"Ah! my good Germain, you will defend me; I'm not afraid with you."

Germain shuddered. He looked at Marie: she was pale, her clothes were
torn by the brambles through which she had run, seeking the thickest
underbrush, like a doe with the hunters on her track. But there was
neither despair nor shame on her face.

"Your master wants to speak to you," he said, still watching her
features.

"My master?" she said proudly; "that man is not my master and never will
be!--You are my master, you, Germain. I want you to take me back with
you--will work for you for nothing!"

The farmer had ridden forward, feigning some impatience.

"Ah! little one," he said, "you forgot something which I have brought
you."

"No, no, monsieur," replied little Marie, "I didn't forget anything, and
there's nothing I want to ask you for--"