, more gravely than ever.

"Ah! it is not finished," said Talhouet.

"We are only at the commencement."

"Continue, we are listening."

"You have all heard of the strange death of the Baron de Caradec, have
you not?"

"Our old college friend at Nantes," said Montlouis, "who was found
murdered ten years ago in the forest of Chateaubriant?"

"Yes. Now listen; but remember that this is a secret which till this
moment has been only known to me, and which even now must go no further
than ourselves."

The three Bretons, who were deeply interested, gave the required
promises.

"Well," said Pontcalec, "this college friendship of which Montlouis
speaks had undergone some change between Caradec and myself, on account
of a rivalry. We loved the same woman, and I was loved by her.

"One day I determined to hunt the stag in the forest of Chateaubriant;
my dogs and huntsmen had been sent out the day before, and I was on my
way to the rendezvous, when, on the road before me, I saw an enormous
fagot walking along. This did not surprise me, for our peasants carry
such enormous fagots, that they quite disappear under their load; but
this fagot appeared from behind to move alone. Soon it stopped; an old
woman, turning round, showed her face to me. As I approached, I could
not take my eyes off her, for I recognized the sorceress of Savernay,
who had predicted the misfortune caused by my white pony.

"My first impulse, I confess, was to take another road, and avoid the
prophetess of evil; but she had already seen me, and she seemed to wait
for me with a smile full of malice. I was ten years older than when her
first threat had frightened me. I was ashamed to go back.

"'Good-day, Viscount de Pontcalec,' said she; 'how is the Marquis de
Guer?'

"'Well, good woman; and I shall be quite easy about him, if you will
assure me that nothing will happen to him during my absence.'

"'Ah! ah!' said she laughing; 'you have not forgotten the plains of
Savernay. You have a good memory, viscount; but yet, if I gave you some
advice, you would not follow it any more than the first time. Man is
blind.'

"'And what is your advice?'

"'Not to go hunting to-day.'

"'Why not?'

"'And to return at once to Pontcalec.'

"'I cannot; I have a rendezvous with some friends at Chateaubriant.'

"'So much the worse, viscount, for blood will be spilled.'

"'Mine?'

"'Yours, and another's.'

"'Bah! are you mad?'

"'So said your uncle Crysogo