the couch. He signed to her to
close the door. The Marquis was the living image of his mother, except
that her beautiful regular features became in his face bony and
repulsive.

"Well?" said the Vicomtesse, going up to the couch.

"I am wounded," he answered. "The man escaped me."

His wife frowned.

"Really!" she said, "one might think that the Vicomte de Talizac was
strong enough to conquer a lacquey!"

"Hush!" cried the Vicomte, his eyes flashing fire, "do you think that I
require you to remind me of the shame of my defeat? I have been for
days, as you well know, on the track of the hound. I hid by the wayside
to-night, like a murderer, and I saw him press his hand to his breast as
if to assure himself of the safety of some package which undoubtedly
contained the secret so necessary to the safety of our future. By what
miracle the fellow escaped, I can't divine. I saw him fall forward, but
he suddenly fired at me--but I did at all events as I promised you to
do--"

"I can only say that our son is ruined!"

"No, not yet; listen to me. Pierre is with my father at this moment;
hasten and listen to the conversation."

"But he is locked in his room!"

"I know that, Magdalena. Raise that curtain; you will find a door which
opens on a staircase in the wall; go down twenty steps, then stop, pass
your hand over the wall until you feel a spring; press it, and it will
open. You will find a small window concealed within the room by the
carving, and you can hear every word that is spoken--"

"Very good; but your wound--"

"Is not of much consequence; but hasten, for your son's sake."

The Vicomtesse disappeared.

This explains the noise that had attracted the attention of the Marquis.

An hour later Magdalena returned to her husband. "I know enough," she
said. "Your brother Simon is married--he has two sons, and lives in the
village of Leigoutte."

A cruel smile wandered over the lips of the Vicomte.

"Ah! the invasion will then take that direction!"

CHAPTER VII.

THE VILLAGE.

On the 1st of January, 1814, it was known that foreign forces had
invaded France. It was a terrible surprise when fugitives passed through
the villages crying, "Save yourselves, while there is yet time!"

Mothers wept for their sons, wives for their husbands, sisters for their
brothers!

The winter was a severe one. The Vosges mountains and the villages in
the valleys were alike wrapped in snow.

The inn which our re