When they had eaten and drunken their fill, the peddler lit his pipe, and with a smile strolled about the room, opening closet doors, lifting up the lid of the linen chest, pulling out the drawers of the carved bureau and scattering the contents on the floor, knocking the walls and stamping on the floor as if to discover the hiding place of treasure. But nothing of value rewarded his search, and he appeared angry, for he swept the few little china ornaments from the mantel shelf and stamped upon them.
Le Muet rose to his feet. He must be going. His dog might be searching for him, and, besides, if he was to catch up with Monsieur the curé he must be getting along. As he walked to the door, the peddler turned sharply, and taking a couple of quick strides let his hand fall heavily on his shoulder. There was no good humor in the peddler’s face now. He gave a word of command to his companion, who produced a rope, and putting a tight knot around Le Muet’s wrist, gave him a shove that propelled him out of the door.
What was going to happen now, wondered Le Muet. He was not long left in doubt. His captors went from house to house, picking their plunder, clothes, bric-a-brac, copper cooking utensils, till they had accumulated two huge bundles tied in blankets. They were loaded upon Le Muet’s back and, mounting their horses, the peddler and his comrade rode on slowly, driving Le Muet like a cow before them.
A dull rage, all the more terrible since it could find no expression, filled his heart now. His load lay upon his neck and shoulders like lead, and the sweat trickled down his face and the furrow of his bent and tortured hack. When he stopped, a prod from lance or saber set his failing legs moving once more, and he ground his teeth in speechless agony. So, too, perhaps feel the dumb carriers of burdens, but in the brain of Le Muet the suffering was intensified. In his obstinate way he had set his heart upon finding his dog, and now with every step he took he might be going further away.
They were going through the plantation now, and approaching the forest. It was hard going among the low brushwood that caught like so many grasping hands at his legs and tripped him up. Would they never stop for rest? They were within the woods now. At last the two horsemen dismounted, and looked about them as if seeking a landmark. Seeing a pile of white stones from the quarry, they nodded their heads, and with a look at their watches sat down on the edge of the pathway.