We could now distinguish groups of people searching about, and it was all so horrible that it made me want to scream out. Suddenly the boy who was driving us pulled my coat-sleeve. “Oh, Madame,” he said, “look at that scoundrel stealing.” I looked, and saw a man lying down full length, with a large bag near him. He had a dark lantern, which he held towards the ground. He then got up, looked round him, for his outline could be seen distinctly on the horizon, and began his work again. When he caught sight of us he put out his lamp and crouched down on the ground. We walked on in silence straight towards him. I took the colt by the bridle, on the other side, and the boy no doubt understood what I intended to do, for he let me lead the way. I walked straight towards the man, pretending not to know he was there. The colt backed, but we pulled hard and made it advance. We were so near to the man that I shuddered at the thought that the wretch would perhaps allow himself to be trampled over by the animal and the light vehicle rather than reveal his presence. Fortunately, I was mistaken. A stifled voice murmured, “Take care there! I am wounded. You will run over me.” I took the gig lantern down. We had covered it with a jacket, as the moon lighted us better, and I now turned it on the face of this wretch. I was stupefied to see a man of from sixty-five to seventy years of age, with a hollow- looking face, framed with long, dirty white whiskers. He had a muffler round his neck, and was wearing a peasant’s cloak of a dark colour. Around him, shown up by the moon, were sword belts, brass buttons, sword hilts, and other objects that the infamous old fellow had torn from the poor dead. “You are not wounded. You are a thief and a violator of tombs! I shall call out and you will be killed. Do you hear that, you miserable wretch?” I exclaimed, and I went so near to him that I could feel his breath sully mine. He crouched down on his knees and, clasping his criminal hands, implored me in a trembling, tearful voice. “Leave your bag there, then,” I said, “and all those things. Empty your pockets; leave everything and go. Run, for as soon as you are out of sight I shall call one of those soldiers who are making searches, and give them your plunder. I know I am doing wrong, though, in letting you go free.” He emptied his pockets, groaning all the time, and was just going away when the lad whispered, “He’s hiding some boots under his cloak.” I was furious with rage with this vile thief, and I pulled his big cloak off. “Leave everything, you wretched man,” I exclaimed, “or I will call the soldiers.” Six pairs of boots, taken from the corpses, fell noisily on to the hard ground. The man stooped down for his revolver, which he had taken out of his pocket at the same time as the stolen objects. “Will you leave that, and get away quickly?” I said. “My patience is at an end.”