In a few minutes the crowd began to issue forth into the Place de Terreaux; and, before he could disengage himself, the terrible preparations for burning one of the unfortunate victims of superstition were before the eyes of Bernard de Rohan. A space was railed off in the centre of the square, and kept clear by guards; but in the midst thereof, at the distance of about thirty yards from the young cavalier, appeared an elderly man, with a fine and intelligent countenance, pale as ashes, and evidently fully sensible of all the agonies of the death he was about to endure. He was chained upright to an enormous post or stake driven into the ground, and one of the brutal executioners was seen fastening the chain tighter round his neck, though another had by this time lighted the fagots which had been piled up underneath and around his feet. From time to time the victim closed his eyes, and his lips moved as if murmuring forth a prayer; at other moments he cast a wild and fearful glance round upon the people; but, in general, he remained still and quiet, as if striving within himself to subdue the natural repugnance of the flesh to the endurance of pain and death. Bernard de Rohan loved not such sights nor such acts; and as in that open space the crowd was thinner around him, he was turning away once more to pursue his path homeward, when a capuchin friar approached the unfortunate man, and, holding up a crucifix, seemed to exhort him to abandon his faith. At that point, however, all the firmness which had supported him through imprisonment and trial came back, and, waving his hand indignantly, he turned away his head with a gesture of disgust. The capuchin raised both his arms towards the sky; and a roar of furious exultation burst from the people, as the flames, almost at the same moment, were seen to rise up round the unfortunate victim, and the convulsive gasp of agony distorted his countenance. Bernard de Rohan forced his way on; but, as he did so, some one touched his arm from behind, evidently intentionally, and, looking in that direction, he beheld, to his great surprise, the countenance of Corse de Leon. The brigand gazed upon him for a moment, but without speaking, then turned his head away; and, recollecting the warning which he had received, not to notice him unless spoken to by him, Bernard de Rohan made his way out through the people, and reached the inn just as it was growing dark. He now found that his attendant had been as little successful as himself in the search for Isabel de Brienne; but the landlord informed him that a gentleman named the Chevalier Lenoir had been there to inquire for him; and Bernard de Rohan, trusting that Corse de Leon might possess some better means of information than himself concerning the course which Isabel had taken, waited impatiently for the brigand's return. CHAPTER XXII.