d been given.
No more conspiracies now for the little Royalist gentleman.

They all came and stood about him, Joubard, Martin, Gigot, and the party
of gendarmes. At first they hardly liked to touch him; he lay so
peacefully asleep under the tree, his thin right hand pressed over his
heart, where the sword had wounded him, such a look of perfect content
on the face that death had marked for its own. His sword lay on the
grass beside him, where it had fallen from his dying hand. Martin picked
it up, saying in a low voice, "This will be for Monsieur Angelot."

Sturdy Gigot, choking with sobs, turned upon him fiercely.

"It belongs to mademoiselle."

They lifted Monsieur Joseph--old Joubard at his head, Gigot at his
feet--and carried their light burden down to his house, in at his own
bedroom window. They laid him on his bed in the alcove, and then were
afraid to touch him any more. All the group of strong men stood and
looked at him, Gigot weeping loudly, Joubard silently; even the eyes of
the gendarmes were wet.

"We must have women here," said Joubard.

Turning round, he saw Monsieur Joseph's letter to his brother lying on
the table; he took it up and gave it to Gigot.

"Take this letter to La Mariniere," he said, "and tell Monsieur Urbain
what has happened. And you," to the gendarmes, "be off to Sonnay, and
make your report at once to Monsieur le Prefet. I doubt if he will
justify all that is done in his name."

"We will do as you say, Maitre Joubard," said the gendarme.

A few minutes later the only one of the General's party left at Les
Chouettes was Simon. He skulked round behind the buildings, but could
not persuade himself to go away. It seemed to him that there was a good
deal of danger in escaping on foot; that the country people, enraged by
Monsieur Joseph's death, delighted, as they probably would be, by
Monsieur Angelot's marriage, would all be his enemies. He was half
terrified by General Ratoneau's desperation. Suppose he had overtaken
Angelot's young bride and her companions! suppose he had swung her up on
his horse and carried her away, forgetting that he was not campaigning
in a foreign country, but living peaceably in France, where the law
protected people from such violent doings. It might be very
inconvenient, in such a case, to appear at Sonnay as a friend and
follower of General Ratoneau. Any credit he still had with the Prefect,
for instance, would be lost for ever. And yet, if he deserted