A double hypothesis presented itself to De Wardes' agitated mind; either De Guiche was killed, or De Guiche was wounded only.

If he were killed, why should he leave his body in that manner to the tender mercies of the wolves?
it was a perfectly useless piece of cruelty, for if De Guiche were dead, he certainly could not breathe a syllable of what had passed; if he were not killed, why should he, De Wardes, in leaving him there uncared for, allow himself to be regarded as a savage, incapable of one generous feeling?
This last consideration determined his line of conduct.
De Wardes immediately instituted inquiries after Manicamp.

He was told that Manicamp had been looking after De Guiche, and, not knowing where to find him, had retired to bed.

De Wardes went and woke the sleeper without any delay, and related the whole affair to him, which Manicamp listened to in perfect silence, but with an expression of momentarily increasing energy, of which his face could hardly have been supposed capable.

It was only when De Wardes had finished that Manicamp uttered the words, "Let us go." As they proceeded, Manicamp became more and more excited, and in proportion as De Wardes related the details of the affair to him, his countenance assumed every moment a darkening expression.