“Unhappy wretch that I am,” said Edouard, leaving the bed and beating his brow, “I have no resources left; I am lost, cast out by the whole world. Obliged to shun society, which spurns me, reduced to the necessity of living in the darkness, this infamous mark drives me to crime; only among brigands can I find shelter now; only by committing new crimes can I prolong my existence! The road of repentance is closed to me; I have no choice but to be a criminal!” As he spoke, he threw himself on the ground and writhed in despair at the wood-cutter’s feet. The latter was moved for a moment, when he saw the mental distress of the wretch before him; he laid down his gun, and would perhaps have yielded to compassion, when two whistles rang out and were repeated loudly in different parts of the forest. Instantly the wood-cutter’s suspicion and rage revived in full force. He had no doubt that the signal that he had heard was that of the brigands come to join their comrade. He took his gun again; Edouard tried once more to implore his compassion; he approached his host, raising his hands in entreaty; but the wood-cutter, mistaking the meaning of the miserable wretch, whom he deemed capable of murdering him, stepped back and pulled the trigger. The gun was discharged! being badly aimed, the murderous bullet did not strike its victim, but whistled over his shoulder as he knelt on the floor, and buried itself in the wall. Thereupon rage and despair revived Edouard’s courage; he determined to sell his life dearly; he seized an axe which he saw in a corner of the cabin, and as his host returned toward him to strike him with the butt of his gun, he dealt him a blow in the head which stretched him lifeless at his feet. The wood-cutter fell without uttering a sound; his blood spurted upon Edouard, who was horrified to find himself covered with it. At the same moment the door of the cabin was broken in; four men, clothed with rags, but armed to the teeth and wearing hideous masks, appeared in the doorway and put their heads into the room, gazing for some moments in surprise at the spectacle which met their eyes. “Oho!” said the one who seemed to be their chief, “it seems to me that strange things are happening here, and that we have comrades in the neighborhood. Thunder and guns! Here’s a fellow who looks to me as if he had done a good job!” Edouard was standing motionless in the middle of the room, still holding in his hand the bloody axe with which he had struck down the wood-cutter. The brigands entered the room. The leader scrutinized Edouard and uttered an exclamation of surprise and delight. “It is he!” he cried at last; “it is really he! Look at him, comrade,--you should recognize him too.” “Parbleu! yes, it’s our friend; come, Murville, embrace your old acquaintances, your faithful companions in pleasure and adversity.”