bout to be imprisoned as the result of an odious
accusation, but deserted and escaped to Belgium, not daring to join the
army of the emigres. He stopped at Mons, then went to the west of
France, and became a Chouan, but politics had nothing to do with this
act. He associated himself with some bravos of his stripe, and plundered
travellers, and levied contributions on the purchasers of national
property. In the Eure, where he usually pursued his operations, he
assassinated with his own hand two defenceless gamekeepers whom his
little band had encountered.

He delighted in taking the funds of the country school-teachers, and to
give a colour of royalism to the deed, he would nightly tear down the
trees of liberty in the villages in which he operated. Tired at last of
"an occupation where there was nothing but blows to receive, and his
head to lose," he went to seek his fortune in Rouen; and before he
presented himself to Mme. de Combray, had without doubt made enquiries.
He knew he would find a rich heiress, whose two brothers, emigrated,
would probably never return, and from the first he set to work to
flatter the royalist hobby of the mother, and the romantic imagination
of the young girl. Pere Lemercier was himself conquered; Acquet, to
catch him, pretended the greatest piety and most scrupulous devotion.

A note of Bonnoeil's informs us of the way this tragic intrigue
ended. "Acquet employed every means of seduction to attain his end. The
young girl, fearing to remain long unmarried because of the unhappy
times, listened to him, in spite of the many reasons for waiting and for
refusing the proposals of a man whose name, country and fortune were
unknown to them. The mother's advice was unfortunately not heeded, and
she found herself obliged to consent to the marriage, the laws of that
period giving the daughters full liberty, and authorising them to shake
off the salutary parental yoke."

The dates of certain papers complete the discreet periphrases of
Bonnoeil. The truth is that Acquet "declared his passion" to Mlle. de
Combray and as she, a little doubtful though well-disposed to allow
herself to be loved, still hesitated, the Chevalier signed a sort of
mystic engagement dated January 1, 1796, where, "in sight of the Holy
Church and at the pleasure of God," he pledged himself to marry her on
demand. She carefully locked up this precious paper, and a little less
than ten months later, the 17th October, the municipal