At length, the woman perceiving, after two hours of entreaty, that she could gain nothing, and that Marie still continued there, either pensive or crying, without saying a word or deciding on anything, she determined to send to Guicheville, and inform Madame d'Aubecourt; but when she returned from the fields, where she had gone to seek her son to send him with the message, Marie was not to be found. She sought for her in vain through the whole village, and at length learned that she had been seen going along a road which led to Guicheville. She immediately suspected that she must have gone to the cemetery, and in fact Marie had gone there, but not by the direct way, for fear of meeting any of the inmates of the château. As the boy had not yet started, his mother ordered him to take the shortest way to the house, and tell them that it was in the direction of the cemetery they must look for Marie.
During Marie's absence, a terrible scene had been enacted at the château. M. d'Aubecourt, who she imagined would be confined to his room for another week, feeling much better, wished to take advantage of a lovely morning to go and see his garden. As he approached it, leaning on the arm of Mademoiselle Raymond, he perceived Marie's hat half-filled with the flowers which she had collected, and part of which lay scattered on the ground, where she had dropped them, after having spoken to the peasant. He recognised his streaked roses, and his tricoloured geraniums; he picked them up, anxiously examined them, and looked at Mademoiselle Raymond, who, shaking her head, observed, "It is Mademoiselle Marie's hat." He hurried on to his garden; it seemed as if an enemy had passed through it: branches were broken, bushes had been separated in order to get at a flower which happened to be in the midst of them, and one border was quite spoiled, for Marie had fallen upon it with her whole length, and in her fall had broken a young sweetbrier, recently grafted.
M. d'Aubecourt, whose sole occupation and pleasure consisted in his flowers, and who was accustomed to see them respected by every one, was so disturbed at the condition in which he beheld his garden, that the shock, increased, perhaps, by the effect of the air, or by his having walked too fast, made him turn pale, and lean on the arm of Mademoiselle Raymond, saying that he felt faint. Greatly frightened, she called out for assistance. At this moment, Madame d'Aubecourt came up: she was calling for Marie, and very uneasy at not finding her anywhere.