. If he did not act, if he
were not going to act, if he were not going to take some surer and safer
step, he had been foolish and trebly foolish to let slip the opportunity
that had been his.

But he would act. For a fortnight he had abstained from visiting
Basterga, and had even absented himself from the neighbourhood of the
house lest the scholar's suspicions should be wakened. But to what
purpose if he were not going to act? If he were not going to build on
the ground so carefully prepared, to what end this wariness and this
abstention?

Within an hour the Syndic, long so wary, had worked himself into a fever
and, rather than remain inactive, was ripe for any step, however
venturesome, provided it led to the _remedium_. He had still the
prudence to postpone action until night; but when darkness had fairly
set in and the bell of St. Peter, inviting the townsfolk to the evening
preaching, had ceased to sound--an indication that he would meet few in
the streets--he cloaked himself, and, issuing forth, bent his steps
across the Bourg du Four in the direction of the Corraterie.

Even now he had no plan in his mind. But amid the medley of schemes that
for a week had been hatching in his brain, he hoped to be guided by
circumstances to that one which gave surest promise of success. Nor was
his courage as deeply rooted as he fancied: the day had told on his
nerves; he shivered in the breeze and started at a sound. Yet as often
as he paused or hesitated, the words "A dying man! A dying man!" rang in
his ears and urged him on.

CHAPTER VII.

A SECOND TISSOT.

Messer Blondel's sagacity in forbearing completely and for so long a
period the neighbourhood of Basterga proved an unpleasant surprise to
one man; and that was the man most concerned. For a day or two the
scholar lived in a fool's paradise, and hugging himself on certain
success, anticipated with confidence the entertainment which he would
derive from the antics of the fish as it played about the bait, now
advancing and now retreating. He had formed a low opinion of the
magistrate's astuteness, and forgetting that there is a cunning which is
rudimentary and of the primitives, he entertained for some time no
misgiving. But when day after day passed by and still, though more than
a week had elapsed, Blondel did not appear, nor make any overture, when,
watch he never so carefully in the dusk of the evening or at the quiet
hours of the day, he caught no glimp