“You lie, you impostor!” vociferated the innkeeper; “you lie!” The soldiers did not budge. This scene repaid them for the disgust they had experienced during the afternoon. “But,” continued Balstain, “what else could one expect from such a knave as Chupin? Every one knows that he’s been obliged to fly from France over and over again on account of his crimes. Where did you take refuge when you crossed the frontier, Chupin? In my house, in Balstain’s inn. You were fed and protected there. How many times haven’t I saved you from the gendarmes and the galleys? More times than I can count. And to reward me you steal my property; you steal this man who was mine----” “The fellow’s insane!” ejaculated the terrified Chupin, “he’s mad!” “At least you will be reasonable,” exclaimed the inn keeper, suddenly changing his tactics. “Let’s see, Chupin, what you’ll do for an old friend? Divide, won’t you? No, you say no? How much will you give me, comrade? A third? Is that too much? A quarter, then----” Chupin felt that the soldiers were enjoying his humiliation. They were indeed, sneering at him, and only an instant before they had, with instinctive loathing, avoided coming in contact with him. The old knave’s blood was boiling, and pushing Balstain aside, he cried to the chasseurs:--”Come--are we going to spend the night here?” On hearing these words, Balstain’s eyes sparkled with revengeful fury, and suddenly drawing his knife from his pocket and making the sign of the cross in the air: “Saint-Jean-de-Coche,” he exclaimed, in a ringing voice, “and you, Holy Virgin, hear my vow. May my soul burn in hell if I ever use a knife at meals until I have plunged the one I now hold, into the heart of the scoundrel who has defrauded me!” With these words he hurried away into the woods, and the soldiers took up their line of march. But Chupin was no longer the same. His impudence had left him and he walked along with hanging head, his mind full of sinister presentiments. He felt sure that such an oath as Balstain’s, and uttered by such a man, was equivalent to a death warrant, or at least to a speedy prospect of assassination. The thought tormented him so much indeed, that he would not allow the detachment to spend the night at Saint-Pavin, as had been agreed upon. He was impatient to leave the neighbourhood. So after supper he procured a cart; the prisoner was placed in it, securely bound, and the party started for Montaignac. The great bell was tolling two in the morning when Lacheneur was conducted into the citadel; and at that very moment M. d’Escorval and Corporal Bavois were making their final preparations for escape. XXII.