emselves at a lonely
inn, where they hoped to procure a guide to lead them through the
defiles of the mountains.

Frightful news awaited them there. The innkeeper informed them of the
bloody massacre at Montaignac.

With tears rolling down his cheeks, he related the details of the
execution, which he had heard from an eyewitness.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he knew nothing of M. d'Escorval's flight
or of M. Lacheneur's arrest.

But he was well acquainted with Chanlouineau, and he was inconsolable
over the death of that "handsome young fellow, the best farmer in the
country."

The officers, who had left the litter a short distance from the inn,
decided that they could confide at least a part of their secret to this
man.

"We are carrying one of our wounded comrades," they said to him. "Can
you guide us across the frontier to-night?"

The innkeeper replied that he would do so very willingly, that he would
promise to take them safely past the military posts; but that he would
not think of going upon the mountain before the moon rose.

By midnight the fugitives were _en route_; by daybreak they set foot on
Piedmont territory.

They had dismissed their guide some time before. They now proceeded to
break the litter in pieces; and handful by handful they cast the wool of
the mattress to the wind.

"Our task is accomplished," the officer said to Maurice. "We will now
return to France. May God protect you! Farewell!"

It was with tears in his eyes that Maurice saw these brave men, who had
just saved his father's life, depart. Now he was the sole protector of
Marie-Anne, who, pale and overcome with fatigue and emotion, trembled on
his arm.

But no--Corporal Bavois still lingered by his side.

"And you, my friend," he asked, sadly, "what are you going to do?"

"Follow you," replied the old soldier. "I have a right to a home with
you; that was agreed between your father and myself! So do not hurry,
the young lady does not seem well, and I see the village only a short
distance away."

CHAPTER XXXVI

Essentially a woman in grace and beauty, as well as in devotion and
tenderness, Marie-Anne was capable of a virile bravery. Her energy and
her coolness during those trying days had been the admiration and the
astonishment of all around her.

But human endurance has its limits. Always after excessive efforts comes
a moment when the shrinking flesh fails the firmest will.

When Marie-Anne tried to begin her