.

"You shall not remain here," said she, with extraordinary vehemence.
"Fly, save yourself. You shall not be taken here; it will bring
misfortune upon our house!"

Bewildered by these violent adjurations, and urged on by the instinct of
self-preservation, so powerful in every human heart, Lacheneur stepped
out upon the threshold.

The night was very dark, and a chilling fog intensified the gloom.

"See, Madame," said the poor fugitive gently, "how can I find my way
through these mountains, which I do not know, and where there are no
roads--where the foot-paths are scarcely discernible."

With a quick movement Balstain's wife pushed Lacheneur out, and turning
him as one does a blind man to set him on the right track:

"Walk straight before you," said she, "always against the wind. God will
protect you. Farewell!"

He turned to ask further directions, but she had re-entered the house
and closed the door.

Upheld by a feverish excitement, he walked for long hours. He soon lost
his way, and wandered on through the mountains, benumbed with cold,
stumbling over rocks, sometimes falling.

Why he was not precipitated to the depths of some chasm it is difficult
to explain.

He lost all idea of his whereabouts, and the sun was high in the heavens
when he at last met a human being of whom he could inquire his way.

It was a little shepherd-boy, in pursuit of some stray goats, whom he
encountered; but the lad, frightened by the wild and haggard appearance
of the stranger, at first refused to approach.

The offer of a piece of money induced him to come a little nearer.

"You are on the summit of the mountain, Monsieur," said he; "and exactly
on the boundary line. Here is France; there is Savoy."

"And what is the nearest village?"

"On the Savoyard side, Saint-Jean-de-Coche; on the French side,
Saint-Pavin."

So after all his terrible exertions, Lacheneur was not a league from the
inn.

Appalled by this discovery, he remained for a moment undecided which
course to pursue.

What did it matter? Why should the doomed hesitate? Do not all roads
lead to the abyss into which they must sink?

He remembered the gendarmes that the innkeeper's wife had warned him
against, and slowly and with great difficulty descended the steep
mountainside leading down to France.

He was near Saint-Pavin, when, before an isolated cottage, he saw a
pretty peasant woman spinning in the sunshine.

He dragged himself toward her, and