journey anew, she found that her
strength was exhausted; her swollen feet would no longer sustain her,
her limbs sank under her, her head whirled, and an intense freezing
coldness crept over her heart.

Maurice and the old soldier were obliged to support her, almost carry
her. Fortunately they were not far from the village, whose church-tower
they had discerned through the gray mists of morning.

Soon the fugitives could distinguish the houses on the outskirts of the
town. The corporal suddenly stopped short with an oath.

"_Mille tonnerres_!" he exclaimed; "and my uniform! To enter the village
in this rig would excite suspicion at once; before we had a chance to
sit down, the Piedmontese gendarmes would arrest us."

He reflected for a moment, twirling his mustache furiously; then, in a
tone that would have made a passerby tremble, he said:

"All things are fair in love and war. The next peasant who passes--"

"But I have money," interrupted Maurice, unbuckling a belt filled with
gold, which he had put on under his clothing on the night of the revolt.

"Eh! we are fortunate!" cried Bavois. "Give me some, and I will
soon find some shop in the suburbs where I can purchase a change of
clothing." He departed; but it was not long before he reappeared,
transformed by a peasant's costume, which fitted him perfectly. His
small, thin face was almost hidden beneath an immense broad-brimmed hat.

"Now, steady, forward, march!" he said to Maurice and Marie-Anne, who
scarcely recognized him in this disguise.

The town, which they soon reached, was called Saliente. They read the
name upon a guide-post.

The fourth house after entering the place was a hostelry, the
Traveller's Rest. They entered it, and ordered the hostess to take the
young lady to a room and to assist her in disrobing.

The order was obeyed, and Maurice and the corporal went into the
dining-room and ordered something to eat.

The desired refreshments were served, but the glances cast upon the
guests were by no means friendly. It was evident that they were regarded
with suspicion.

A large man, who was apparently the proprietor of the house, hovered
around them, and at last embraced a favorable opportunity to ask their
names.

"My name is Dubois," replied Maurice, without the slightest hesitation.
"I am travelling on business, and this man here is my farmer."

These replies seemed to reassure the host a little.

"And what is your business?" he inqu