extremity of the clearing, Madame de Bergenheim walking slowly in the
avenue of sycamores. A moment later, she had disappeared behind a mass
of trees without the other men noticing her.

"Take care that you do not slip," said the artist, "the ground is wet."

This warning brought misfortune to Gerfaut, who in jumping caught his
foot in the root of a tree and fell.

"Are you hurt?" asked Bergenheim.

Octave arose and tried to walk, but was obliged to lean upon his gun.

"I think I have twisted my foot," said he, and he carried his hand to it
as if he felt a sharp pain there.

"The devil! it may be a sprain," observed the Baron, coming toward them;
"sit down. Do you think you will be able to walk?"

"Yes, but I fear hunting would be too much for me; I will return to the
house."

"Do you wish us to make a litter and carry you?"

"You are laughing at me; it's not so bad as that. I will walk back
slowly, and will take a foot-bath in my room."

"Lean upon me, then, and I will help you," said the artist, offering his
arm.