s as a ghost
before he could come to life. We saw him pass us,--he was pale, he was
cold, he was thin, he smelt of the cemetery."

"And his Reverence says that if a ghost gets hold of a living man he can
force him to be his companion," said the fourth Chouan.

The grotesque appearance of this last speaker drew Marche-a-Terre from
the pious reflections he had been making on the accomplishment of this
miracle of coming to life which, according to the Abbe Gudin would
happen to every true defender of religion and the king.

"You see, Galope-Chopine," he said to the fourth man gravely, "what
comes of omitting even the smallest duty commanded by our holy religion.
It is a warning to us, given by Saint Anne of Auray, to be rigorous with
ourselves for the slightest sin. Your cousin Pille-Miche has asked the
Gars to give you the surveillance of Fougeres, and the Gars consents,
and you'll be well paid--but you know with what flour we bake a
traitor's bread."

"Yes, Monsieur Marche-a-Terre."

"And you know why I tell you that. Some say you like cider and gambling,
but you can't play heads or tails now, remember; you must belong to us
only, or--"

"By your leave, Monsieur Marche-a-Terre, cider and stakes are two good
things which don't hinder a man's salvation."

"If my cousin commits any folly," said Pille-Miche, "it will be out of
ignorance."

"In any way he commits it, if harm comes," said Marche-a-Terre, in a
voice which made the arched roof tremble, "my gun won't miss him. You
will answer for him to me," he added, turning to Pille-Miche; "for if he
does wrong I shall take it out on the thing that fills your goatskin."

"But, Monsieur Marche-a-Terre, with all due respect," said
Galope-Chopine, "haven't you sometimes taken a counterfeit Chouan for a
real one."

"My friend," said Marche-a-Terre in a curt tone, "don't let that happen
in your case, or I'll cut you in two like a turnip. As to the emissaries
of the Gars, they all carry his glove, but since that affair at La
Vivetiere the Grande Garce has added a green ribbon to it."

Pille Miche nudged his comrade by the elbow and showed him d'Orgemont,
who was pretending to be asleep; but Pille-Miche and Marche-a-Terre both
knew by experience that no one ever slept by the corner of their fire,
and though the last words said to Galope-Chopine were almost whispered,
they must have been heard by the victim, and the four Chouans looked at
him fixedly, thinking perhaps tha