Being urged to continue his narrative, he told how Captain Macabre had suggested blowing out his brains without ceremony to prevent his speaking, and how the gypsies had thrown themselves upon him to secure his clothes before they were ruined by blood. "That discussion," continued Monsieur Poulain, "saved my life; for Sancho had time to suggest another plan. It was he who bound me and then imprisoned me as you have heard. But what a rescue! It seemed to me worse than a sudden and violent death, when the infamous villain, without assisting me or giving me a word of hope, left Brilbault with his gypsies, to attack your château." "And what was done with D'Alvimar's body, I pray to know?" asked the marquis. "I understand," replied the rector with a faint smile, wherein could be detected a trace of the old aversion, "that you are interested in finding it, in case proceedings should be instituted against you. But consider that that would not be evidence that could be used against you. If people chose to lie, they would be free to say that you buried your victim there with the help of your friend, Monsieur Robin. And so, monsieur le marquis, you must depend for your future security upon my loyalty alone, and I hereby offer you its guaranty." "On what conditions, monsieur le recteur?" "Conditions? I make no more conditions, my brother! From this day I am a recluse, withdrawn from the world. I have implored from your kindness the Abbey of Varennes." "Oho!" said Bois-Doré, "the abbey? A simple cell was all that you wanted a moment ago." "Will you allow so venerable an abbey to go to ruin, and entrust to boors the management of a community which is expected to set a noble example to the world?" "Very good, I understand. We will see, monsieur le recteur, how you conduct yourself with respect to me, and you shall be abundantly gratified if I have reason to be. Meanwhile, I presume that you will not tell me where my brother's murderer is buried?" "Pardon me, monsieur," replied the rector, who was too clever to appear to haggle, and who, moreover, was really striving to extricate himself from the tempests and passions of the age, provided that the penalty was not too severe; "I will tell you what I saw. Sancho seemed extremely anxious to rescue the body from any profanation on the part of the gypsies. He raised a flagstone in the centre of the floor of the room where we were, and he certainly interred his son there. For my part I saw nothing more; they dragged me to my horrible dungeon, where I languished for eighteen mortal hours, alternating between unconsciousness and despair." The marquis and the rector parted on excellent terms, and the latter made an effort to rise and officiate at the burial of his parishioners. But after the ceremony he was so ill that he sent for Master Jovelin, whose balsams and elixirs were much extolled as miraculous in their operation.