Let us go on together--we shall find her, I've no doubt."
"You are right," said the farmer. "Let's go on--but, if we don't find
her at the end of the path, I give it up--for I must take the Ardentes
road."
"Oho!" thought the ploughman, "I won't leave you! even if I should have
to twist around the Devil's Pool with you for twenty-four hours!"
"Stay!" said Germain suddenly, fixing his eyes on a clump of furze which
was moving back and forth in a peculiar way: "hola! hola! Petit-Pierre,
my child, is that you?"
The child, recognizing his father's voice, leaped out of the bushes like
a kid, but when he saw that he was with the farmer, he stopped as if in
terror, and stood still, uncertain what to do.
"Come, my Pierre, come, it's me!" cried the ploughman, riding toward him
and leaping down from his horse to take him in his arms: "and where's
little Marie?"
"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.
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