Had they lost his track, then?
Profound quietude reigned under the fresh young foliage.

But the light, owlish cry arose once more, branches cracked, and he resumed his wild flight, hurrying straight before him.

Unluckily he found the Allee de la Reine Marguerite guarded by policemen, so that he could not cross over, but had to skirt it without quitting the thickets.

And now his back was turned towards Boulogne; he was retracing his steps towards Paris.

However, a last idea came to his bewildered mind: it was to run on in this wise as far as the shady spots around Madrid, and then, by stealing from copse to copse, attempt to reach the Seine.