"To follow the women," continued the young man, "to what would that
lead? Perhaps to an important discovery, perhaps to nothing."
However, he preferred the unknown, which, with all its chances of
failure, had chances of success as well. He rose, his course was
decided.
"Father Absinthe," said he, "we are going to follow the footprints of
these two women, and wherever they lead us we will go."
Inspired with equal ardor they began their walk. At the end of the path
upon which they had entered they fancied they observed, as in some magic
glass, the one the fruits, the other the glory of success. They hurried
forward. At first it was only play to follow the distinct footprints
that led toward the Seine. But it was not long before they were obliged
to proceed more slowly.
On leaving the waste ground they arrived at the outer limits of
civilization, so to speak; and strange footprints mingled constantly
with the footprints of the fugitives, at times even effacing them. In
many spots, either on account of exposure or the nature of the soil,
the thaw had completed its work, and there were large patches of ground
entirely free from snow. In such cases they lost the trail, and it
required all Lecoq's sagacity and all his companion's good-will to find
it again.
On such occasions Father Absinthe planted his cane in the earth, near
the last footprint that had been discovered, and Lecoq and himself
hunted all over the ground around this point, much after the fashion
of a couple of bloodhounds thrown off the scent.
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