“Have told them?”
“He came by the other road, and it is quicker.”
She gazed at him in astonishment, her lips parted; and slowly she understood, and her eyes grew hard.
“Then why,” she said, “did you say it was longer. Had we been overtaken, Monsieur, we had had you to thank for it, it seems!”
He bit his lip. “But we have not been overtaken,” he rejoined. “On the contrary, you have me to thank for something quite different.”
“As unwelcome, perhaps!” she retorted. “For what?”
“Softly, Madame.”
“For what?” she repeated, refusing to lower her voice. “Speak, Monsieur, if you please.” He had never seen her look at him in that way.
“For the fact,” he answered, stung by her look and tone, “that when you arrive you will find yourself mistress in your own house! Is that nothing?”
“You have called in my people?”
“Carlat has done so, or should have,” he answered. “Henceforth,” he continued, a ring of exultation in his voice, “it will go hard with M. le Comte, if he does not treat you better than he has treated you hitherto. That is all!”
“You mean that it will go hard with him in any case?” she cried, her bosom rising and falling.
“I mean, Madame But there they are! Good Carlat! Brave Carlat! He has done well!”
“Carlat?”
“Ay, there they are! And you are mistress in your own land! At last you are mistress, and you have me to thank for it! See!” And heedless in his exultation whether Badelon understood or not, he pointed to a place before them where the road wound between two low hills. Over the green shoulder of one of these, a dozen bright points
