"That I can't tell you," replied Coupiau.

"Let him alone!" said Marche-a-Terre, shoving Pille-Miche with his
elbow; "he has vowed by Saint Anne of Auray, and he must keep his
word."

"Very good," said Pille-Miche, addressing Coupiau; "but mind you don't
go down the mountain too fast; we shall overtake you,--a good reason
why; I want to see the cut of your traveller, and give him his
passport."

Just then the gallop of a horse coming rapidly up the slopes of La
Pelerine was heard, and the young chief presently reappeared. The lady
hastened to conceal the bag of plunder which she held in her hand.

"You can keep that money without any scruple," said the young man,
touching the arm which the lady had put behind her. "Here is a letter
for you which I have just found among mine which were waiting for me
at La Vivetiere; it is from your mother." Then, looking at the Chouans
who were disappearing into the woods, and at the turgotine which was
now on its way to the valley of Couesnon, he added: "After all my
haste I see I am too late. God grant I am deceived in my suspicions!"

"It was my poor mother's money!" cried the lady, after opening her
letter, the first lines of which drew forth her exclamation.

A smothered laugh came from the woods, and the young man himself could
not help smiling as he saw the lady holding in her hand the bag
containing her share in the pillage of her own money. She herself