“If they have got rid of the corporal,” he said to himself, “they have done as much by Violette. Those five horses have evidently brought the four conspirators and Michu from the neighborhood of Paris to the forest. Has Michu a horse?” he inquired of the gendarme who was driving him and who belonged to the squad from Arcis. “Yes, and a famous little horse it is,” answered the man, “a hunter from the stables of the ci-devant Marquis de Simeuse. There’s no better beast, though it is nearly fifteen years old. Michu can ride him fifty miles and he won’t turn a hair. He takes mighty good care of him and wouldn’t sell him at any price.” “What does the horse look like?” “He’s brown, turning rather to black; white stockings above the hoofs, thin, all nerves like an Arab.” “Did you ever see an Arab?” “In Egypt--last year. I’ve ridden the horses of the mamelukes. We have to serve twelve years in the cavalry, and I was on the Rhine under General Steingel, after that in Italy, and then I followed the First Consul to Egypt. I’ll be a corporal soon.” “When I get to Michu’s house go to the stable; if you have served twelve years in the cavalry you know when a horse is blown. Let me know the condition of Michu’s beast.” “See! that’s where our corporal was thrown,” said the man, pointing to a spot where the road they were following entered the _rond-point_. “Tell the captain to come and pick me up at Michu’s, and I’ll go with him to Troyes.” So saying Corentin got down, and stood about for a few minutes examining the ground. He looked at the two elms which faced each other,--one against the park wall, the other on the bank of the _rond-point_; then he saw (what no one had yet noticed) the button of a uniform lying in the dust, and he picked it up. Entering the lodge he saw Violette and Michu sitting at the table in the kitchen and talking eagerly. Violette rose, bowed to Corentin, and offered him some wine. “Thank you, no; I came to see the corporal,” said the young man, who saw with half a glance that Violette had been drunk all night. “My wife is nursing him upstairs,” said Michu. “Well, corporal, how are you?” said Corentin who had run up the stairs and found the gendarme with his head bandaged, and lying on Madame Michu’s bed; his hat, sabre, and shoulder-belt on a chair. Marthe, faithful in her womanly instincts, and knowing nothing of her son’s prowess, was giving all her care to the corporal, assisted by her mother. “We expect Monsieur Varlet the doctor from Arcis,” she said to Corentin; “our servant-lad has gone to fetch him.” “Leave us alone for a moment,” said Corentin, a good deal surprised at the scene, which amply proved the innocence of the two women. “Where were you struck?” he asked the man, examining his uniform. “On the breast,” replied the corporal. “Let’s see your belt,” said Corentin.