a peculiar
glance at his companion.

So they walked on, and that same evening, after nine hours of travelling
on the mountains, they crossed the frontier.

But this long journey was not made without bitter reproaches, and even
more bitter recriminations.

Closely questioned by his companions, Lacheneur, exhausted both in mind
and body, finally admitted the insincerity of the promises with which
he had inflamed the zeal of his followers. He acknowledged that he had
spread the report that Marie-Louise and the young King of Rome were
concealed in Montaignac, and that this report was a gross falsehood. He
confessed that he had given the signal for the revolt without any chance
of success, and without means of action, leaving everything to chance.
In short, he confessed that nothing was real save his hatred, his
implacable hatred of the Sairmeuse family.

A dozen times, at least, during this terrible avowal, the peasants who
accompanied him were on the point of hurling him down the precipices
upon whose verge they were walking.

"So it was to gratify his own spite," they thought, quivering with rage,
"that he sets everybody to fighting and killing one another--that he
ruins us, and drives us into exile. We will see."

The fugitives went to the nearest house after crossing the frontier.

It was a lonely inn, about a league from the little village of
Saint-Jean-de-Coche, and was kept by a man named Balstain.

They rapped, in spite of the lateness of the hour--it was past midnight.
They were admitted, and they ordered supper.

But Lacheneur, weak from loss of blood, and exhausted by his long tramp,
declared that he would eat no supper.

He threw himself upon a bed in an adjoining room, and was soon asleep.

This was the first time since their meeting with Lacheneur that his
companions had found an opportunity to talk together in private.

The same idea had occurred to both of them.

They believed that by delivering up Lacheneur to the authorities, they
might obtain pardon for themselves.

Neither of these men would have consented to receive a single sou of the
money promised to the betrayer; but to exchange their life and liberty
for the life and liberty of Lacheneur did not seem to them a culpable
act, under the circumstances.

"For did he not deceive us?" they said to themselves.

They decided, at last, that as soon as they had finished their supper,
they would go to Saint-Jean-de-Coche and inform the Pied