She had abandoned all
hope of saving him: she saw him gradually hemmed in on all sides, and,
in despair, she gazed round her into the darkness, and wondered whence
he would presently come, to fall into the death-trap which his
relentless enemy had prepared for him.
The distant roar of the waves now made her shudder; the
occasional dismal cry of an owl, or a sea-gull, filled her with
unspeakable horror. She thought of the ravenous beasts--in human
shape--who lay in wait for their prey, and destroyed them, as
mercilessly as any hungry wolf, for the satisfaction of their own
appetite of hate. Marguerite was not afraid of the darkness, she only
feared that man, on ahead, who was sitting at the bottom of a rough
wooden cart, nursing thoughts of vengeance, which would have made the
very demons in hell chuckle with delight.
Her feet were sore. Her knees shook under her, from sheer
bodily fatigue. For days now she had lived in a wild turmoil of
excitement; she had not had a quiet rest for three nights; now, she
had walked on a slippery road for nearly two hours, and yet her
determination never swerved for a moment.
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