ree--Holy Virgin! at the bottom of the garden to
the left--you are brigands--thieves! Ah! I'm dying--there's ten thousand
francs--"

"Francs! we don't want francs," said Marche-a-Terre; "those Republican
coins have pagan figures which oughtn't to pass."

"They are not francs, they are good louis d'or. But oh! undo me, unbind
me! I've told you where my life is--my money."

The four Chouans looked at each other as if thinking which of their
number they could trust sufficiently to disinter the money.

The cannibal cruelty of the scene so horrified Mademoiselle de Verneuil
that she could bear it no longer. Though doubtful whether the role
of ghost, which her pale face and the Chouan superstitions evidently
assigned to her, would carry her safely through the danger, she called
out, courageously, "Do you not fear God's anger? Unbind him, brutes!"

The Chouans raised their heads and saw in the air above them two eyes
which shone like stars, and they fled, terrified. Mademoiselle de
Verneuil sprang into the kitchen, ran to d'Orgemont, and pulled him so
violently from the crane that the thong broke. Then with the blade of
her dagger she cut the cords which bound him. When the miser was free
and on his feet, the first expression of his face was a painful but
sardonic grin.

"Apple-tree! yes, go to the apple-tree, you brigands," he said. "Ho, ho!
this is the second time I've fooled them. They won't get a third chance
at me."

So saying, he caught Mademoiselle de Verneuil's hand, drew her under the
mantel-shelf to the back of the hearth in a way to avoid disturbing the
fire, which covered only a small part of it; then he touched a spring;
the iron back was lifted, and when their enemies returned to the kitchen
the heavy door of the hiding-place had already fallen noiselessly.
Mademoiselle de Verneuil then understood the carp-like movements she had
seen the miser making.

"The ghost has taken the Blue with him," cried the voice of
Marche-a-Terre.

The fright of the Chouans must have been great, for the words were
followed by a stillness so profound that d'Orgemont and his companion
could hear them muttering to themselves: "Ave, sancta Anna Auriaca
gratia plena, Dominus tecum," etc.

"They are praying, the fools!" cried d'Orgemont.

"Hush! are you not afraid they will discover us?" said Mademoiselle de
Verneuil, checking her companion.

The old man's laugh dissipated her fears.

"That iron back is set in a wall of gr