they were about to leave the room.

"Not a word, young men, not a threat!" he said, imperiously. "I forbid
it. At least respect the dead who is lying here!"

There was such an irresistible authority in his words and glance, that
Jean and Maurice stood as if turned to stone.

Before the priest had time to say more, Martial was there.

He did not cross the threshold. With a glance he took in the whole
scene; he turned very pale, but not a gesture, not a word escaped his
lips.

Wonderful as was his accustomed control over himself, he could not
articulate a syllable; and it was only by pointing to the bed upon which
Marie-Anne's lifeless form was reposing, that he asked an explanation.

"She was infamously poisoned last evening," replied the abbe, sadly.

Maurice, forgetting the priest's commands, stepped forward.

"She was alone and defenceless. I have been at liberty only two days.
But I know the name of the man who had me arrested at Turin, and thrown
into prison. They told me the coward's name!"

Instinctively Martial recoiled.

"It was you, infamous wretch!" exclaimed Maurice. "You confess your
guilt, scoundrel?"

Once again the abbe interposed; he threw himself between the rivals,
persuaded that Martial was about to attack Maurice.

But no; the Marquis de Sairmeuse had resumed the haughty and indifferent
manner which was habitual to him. He took from his pocket a bulky
envelope, and throwing it upon the table:

"Here," he said coldly, "is what I was bringing to Mademoiselle
Lacheneur. It contains first a safe-conduct from His Majesty for
Monsieur d'Escorval. From this moment, he is at liberty to leave
Poignot's farm-house and return to Escorval. He is free, he is saved, he
is granted a new trial, and there can be no doubt of his acquittal. Here
is also a decree of his non-complicity rendered in favor of Abbe Midon,
and an order from the bishop which reinstates him as Cure of Sairmeuse;
and lastly, a discharge, drawn up in due form, and an acknowledged right
to a pension in the name of Corporal Bavois."

He paused, and as his astonished hearers stood rooted to their places
with wonder, he turned and approached Marie-Anne's bedside.

With hand uplifted to heaven over the lifeless form of her whom he had
loved, and in a voice that would have made the murderess tremble in her
innermost soul, he said, solemnly:

"To you, Marie-Anne, I swear that I will avenge you!"

For a few seconds he stood motionles