d the little band descended the hill.

But M. d'Escorval could not allow his own son, whom he saw in the ranks,
to depart thus.

"Maurice!" he cried.

The young man hesitated, but at last approached.

"You will not follow these madmen, Maurice?" said the baron.

"I must follow them, father."

"I forbid it."

"Alas! father, I cannot obey you. I have promised--I have sworn. I am
second in command."

His voice was sad, but it was determined.

"My son!" exclaimed M. d'Escorval; "unfortunate child!--it is to certain
death that you are marching--to certain death."

"All the more reason that I should not break my word, father."

"And your mother, Maurice, the mother whom you forget!"

A tear glistened in the young man's eye.

"My mother," he replied, "would rather weep for her dead son than
keep him near her dishonored, and branded with the names of coward and
traitor. Farewell! my father."

M. d'Escorval appreciated the nobility of soul that Maurice displayed
in his conduct. He extended his arms, and pressed his beloved son
convulsively to his heart, feeling that it might be for the last time.

"Farewell!" he faltered, "farewell!"

Maurice soon rejoined his comrades, whose acclamations were growing
fainter and fainter in the distance; but the baron stood motionless,
overwhelmed with sorrow.

Suddenly he started from his revery.

"A single hope remains, Abbe!" he cried.

"Alas!" murmured the priest.

"Oh--I am not mistaken. Marie-Anne just told us the place of rendezvous.
By running to Escorval and harnessing the cabriolet, we might be able to
reach the Croix d'Arcy before this party arrive there. Your voice, which
touched Lacheneur, will touch the heart of his accomplices. We will
persuade these poor, misguided men to return to their homes. Come, Abbe;
come quickly!"

And they departed on the run.

CHAPTER XXII

The clock in the tower of Sairmeuse was striking the hour of eight when
Lacheneur and his little band of followers left the Reche.

An hour later, at the Chateau de Courtornieu, Mlle. Blanche, after
finishing her dinner, ordered the carriage to convey her to Montaignac.
Since her father had taken up his abode in town they met only on Sunday;
on that day either Blanche went to Montaignac, or the marquis paid a
visit to the chateau.

Hence this proposed journey was a deviation from the regular order of
things. It was explained, however, by grave circumstances.

It was six days sinc