“Then I felt ashamed of my weakness, and I slowly drew back the heavy bolts. My heart was throbbing wildly. I was frightened. I opened the door brusquely, and in the darkness I distinguished a white figure, standing erect, something that resembled an apparition. “I recoiled petrified with horror, faltering: “'Who-who-who are you?' “A voice replied: “'It is I, father.' “It was my daughter. “I really thought I must be mad, and I retreated backward before this advancing spectre. I kept moving away, making a sign with my hand,' as if to drive the phantom away, that gesture which you have noticed--that gesture which has remained with me ever since. “'Do not be afraid, papa,' said the apparition. 'I was not dead. Somebody tried to steal my rings and cut one of my fingers; the blood began to flow, and that restored me to life.' “And, in fact, I could see that her hand was covered with blood. “I fell on my knees, choking with sobs and with a rattling in my throat. “Then, when I had somewhat collected my thoughts, though I was still so bewildered that I scarcely realized the awesome happiness that had befallen me, I made her go up to my room and sit dawn in my easy-chair; then I rang excitedly for Prosper to get him to rekindle the fire and to bring some wine, and to summon assistance. “The man entered, stared at my daughter, opened his mouth with a gasp of alarm and stupefaction, and then fell back dead. “It was he who had opened the vault, who had mutilated and then abandoned my daughter; for he could not efface the traces of the theft. He had not even taken the trouble to put back the coffin into its place, feeling sure, besides, that he would not be suspected by me, as I trusted him absolutely. “You see, monsieur, that we are very unfortunate people.” He was silent. The night had fallen, casting its shadows over the desolate, mournful vale, and a sort of mysterious fear possessed me at finding myself by the side of those strange beings, of this young girl who had come back from the tomb, and this father with his uncanny spasm. I found it impossible to make any comment on this dreadful story. I only murmured: “What a horrible thing!” Then, after a minute's silence, I added: “Let us go indoors. I think it is growing cool.” And we made our way back to the hotel. IN THE WOOD As the mayor was about to sit down to breakfast, word was brought to him that the rural policeman, with two prisoners, was awaiting him at the Hotel de Ville. He went there at once and found old Hochedur standing guard before a middle-class couple whom he was regarding with a severe expression on his face. The man, a fat old fellow with a red nose and white hair, seemed utterly dejected; while the woman, a little roundabout individual with shining cheeks, looked at the official who had arrested them, with defiant eyes. “What is it? What is it, Hochedur?”