creasing
fury, he continued:

"They told me that, by betraying Lacheneur, I should be doing my duty
and serving the King. I betrayed him, and now I am treated as if I had
committed the worst of crimes. Formerly, when I lived by stealing and
poaching, they despised me, perhaps; but they did not shun me as they
did the pestilence. They called me rascal, robber, and the like; but
they would drink with me all the same. To-day I have twenty thousand
francs, and I am treated as if I were a venomous beast. If I approach a
man, he draws back; if I enter a room, those who are there leave it."

The recollection of the insults he had received made him more and more
frantic with rage.

"Was the act I committed so ignoble and abominable?" he pursued. "Then
why did your father propose it? The shame should fall on him. He should
not have tempted a poor man with wealth like that. If, on the contrary,
I have done well, let them make laws to protect me."

Martial comprehended the necessity of reassuring his troubled mind.

"Chupin, my boy," said he, "I do not ask you to discover Monsieur
d'Escorval in order to denounce him; far from it--I only desire you to
ascertain if anyone at Saint-Pavin, or at Saint-Jean-de-Coche, knows of
his having crossed the frontier."

On hearing the name Saint-Jean-de-Coche, Chupin's face blanched.

"Do you wish me to be murdered?" he exclaimed, remembering Balstain
and his vow. "I would have you know that I value my life, now that I am
rich."

And seized with a sort of panic he fled precipitately. Martial was
stupefied with astonishment.

"One might really suppose that the wretch was sorry for what he had
done," he thought.

If that was really the case, Chupin was not alone.

M. de Courtornieu and the Duc de Sairmeuse were secretly blaming
themselves for the exaggerations in their first reports, and the manner
in which they had magnified the proportions of the rebellion. They
accused each other of undue haste, of neglect of the proper forms of
procedure, and the injustice of the verdict rendered.

Each endeavored to make the other responsible for the blood which had
been spilled; one tried to cast the public odium upon the other.

Meanwhile they were both doing their best to obtain a pardon for the six
prisoners who had been reprieved.

They did not succeed.

One night a courier arrived at Montaignac, bearing the following laconic
despatch:

"The twenty-one convicted prisoners must be e