I advanced and gazed upon him for a moment; and now, as he appeared with his shaved head, and the fraise, or ruff torn off his neck, I could not help thinking that his countenance was familiar to me. The mustachios and the beard, it was true, made a great alteration, but in every other respect it was the face of the Capuchin who had joined in attempting to plunder me at Luz. I looked nearer, and remembering that in six months his beard would have had full time to grow, I became convinced that it was the same. As I examined him attentively, I perceived a sort of packet protruding from a pocket in the breast of his doublet, and taking it out I found it to be a bundle of old, and somewhat worn papers, wrapped in a piece of sheep's skin, and tied round with a leathern thong. Amongst these I doubted not that I should find some interesting correspondence between the subordinate assassin and his instigator, and, consequently, took care to secure them; after which I waited quietly for the return of Jean Baptiste, who I doubted not would relieve me from my troublesome guard over the dead body, as soon as he could procure lights and assistance. His absence, of course, appeared long; but after the lapse of about ten minutes I began to perceive some glimmering sparks through the trees, and a moment after the inhabitants of the cottage appeared, men and children, with as many resin candles as their dwelling could afford. Jean Baptiste was with them; but another personage of much more extraordinary mien led the way, bearing in his hand a candle about the thickness of his little finger, but which he brandished above his head in the manner of a torch, striding on at the same time with enormous steps, and somewhat grotesque gestures. "Where is the body?" exclaimed he with a loud tone and vast emphasis,--"Where is the body of the sacred dead?" The person who asked this question was a man of about five feet three in height, fluttering in a pourpoint, whose ribands and rags vied in number, while the brass buttons with which it was thickly strewed might, by their irregularity of position, have induced me to believe him to be a poet, had not his theatrical tone and air stamped him as a disciple of Thespis. "'Percé jusqu'au fond du c[oe]ur D'une atteinte imprévue, aussi-bien que mortelle,'" cried he, when he beheld the dead body. "Oh what would I have given to have been here when he was killed. Did he fall so at once--I beseech you tell me, did he fall thus?" and down he cast himself upon his back, in the attitude of the dead body.