And suddenly, on reaching the Dolmen, she beheld a sight the meaning of which was immediately clear to her. The ground at the foot of the oaks round the right-hand part of the semi-circle was littered with lately cut branches, which still bore their green leaves.
She raised her eyes and stood stupefied and dismayed.
One oak alone had been stripped. And on the huge trunk, bare to a height of twelve or fifteen feet, there was a paper, transfixed by an arrow and bearing the inscription, "V. d'H."
"The fourth cross," Véronique faltered, "the cross marked with my name!"
She supposed that, as her father was dead, the initials of her maiden name must have been written by one of her enemies, the chief of them, no doubt; and for the first time, under the influence of recent events, remembering the woman and the boy who were persecuting her, she involuntarily attributed a definite set of features to that enemy.
It was a fleeting impression, an improbable theory, of which she was not even conscious. She was overwhelmed by something much more terrible. She suddenly understood that the monsters, those creatures of the heath and the cells, the accomplices of the woman and the boy, must have been there, since the cross was prepared. No doubt they had built a foot-bridge and thrown it over the chasm to take the place of the bridge to which she had set fire. They were masters of the Priory. And François was once more in their hands!
Then she rushed straight along, collecting all her strength. She in her turn ran over the turf, dotted with ruins, that sloped towards the front of the house.
She called his name in a piercing voice. She announced her coming with loud cries. Thus did she reach the Priory.
One half of the door stood ajar. She pushed it and darted into the hall, crying:
The call rang from floor to attic and throughout the house, but remained unanswered:
She went upstairs, opening doors at random, running into her son's room, into Stéphane's, into Honorine's. She found nobody.
"François! François! . . . Don't you hear me? Are they hurting you? . . . Oh, François, do answer!"
She went back to the landing. Opposite her was M. d'Hergemont's study. She flung herself upon the door and at once recoiled, as though stricken by a vision from hell.