hand there ran a deep red scar, precisely similar to the one she had
noticed on the previous night on the hand of the youngest brother at the
"Vache Blanche."

It did not take long for the whole horrible truth to flash across her.
Doubtless they had felt insecure after their terrible deed, and the
youngest Marac had been dispatched after her, disguised as a woman, with
instructions to way-lay her by some shorter cut, in order to find out if
she was really ignorant of the frightful way in which the pedlar had met
his untimely end.

As these thoughts chased each other through her mind, she felt as if her
great terror was slowly blanching her face, and her limbs began to
tremble till she could hardly drag herself over the ground. But her
baby's warm little heart, beating so closely against her own, once more
gave her strength. She dropped her eyes so that she might no longer see
that awful hand, and tottered on by the new-comer's side, striving to
imagine that it was indeed only a harmless peasant woman who was walking
by her and trying to remember that every step was bringing her nearer to
Brussels and protection. Her companion glanced at her curiously, and
Babette shivered, for she fancied she saw suspicion in the look.

"You seem tired." she, or rather he, said, always speaking in the same
low, thick tones. "Brussels is barely two miles off, and it is yet
early, but perhaps you have not rested well. Where did you sleep?"

Too well did the girl know why that question was asked her, and now that
her first sickening horror was over, her brave spirit nerved itself
once more.