"Well, well, this is getting to be exciting," said de Sucy to his companion. "If I were not a magistrate," replied Monsieur d'Albon, "I should think that woman was a witch." As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed her warm muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing human beings. Then a woman, if that name could be applied to the indefinable being who suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away the cow by its rope. This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, beneath which trailed long locks of hair in color and shape like the flax on a distaff. She wore no fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black and gray stripes, too short by several inches, exposed her legs. She might have belonged to some tribe of Red-Skins described by Cooper, for her legs, neck, and arms were the color of brick. No ray of intelligence enlivened her vacant face. A few whitish hairs served her for eyebrows; the eyes themselves, of a dull blue, were cold and wan; and her mouth was so formed as to show the teeth, which were crooked, but as white as those of a dog. "Here, my good woman!" called Monsieur de Sucy. She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly expression at the two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful smile to her face. "Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong here?" To these questions and several others which the two friends alternately addressed to her, she answered only with guttural sounds that seemed more like the growl of an animal than the voice of a human being. "She must be deaf and dumb," said the marquis. "Bons-Hommes!" cried the peasant woman. "Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the Bons-Hommes," said the marquis. He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the peasant woman colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of the cow, which was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two hunters, examining every part of their clothing; then she yelped, growled, and clucked, but did not speak. "What is your name?" said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as if he meant to mesmerize her. "Genevieve," she said, laughing with a silly air.