“Eighty pieces of gold! Why, it is more than I should spend in eight years. You’ll reduce me to beggary.” “Pshaw! you are no better off now.” “You might as well take my life.” “You may accept my offer or leave it. People don’t buy things of this sort every day. Will you have it?--Once!” “I’d rather die.” “Twice!” “Ten pieces--I’ll give you ten pieces.” “Thrice!” “Wait a minute! one must take time to think over, such bargains.” “Well, I’ll come back presently, but I vow you will regret not having taken my offer at once.” [Illustration: 197] Ali went out, leaving Maragougnia pale, trembling, broken-hearted, a prey to a thousand conflicting emotions. [Illustration: 198] CHAPTER V. HOW ALI PÉPÉ, HAVING DONE ALL THAT COULD BE EXPECTED OF AN HONEST MAN, WAS HANGED. THAT evening the doors of the inn were closed earlier than usual. Ali had given his servants a holiday to go to the fair at Montella, and was thus left alone with his four lodgers. He locked all the doors, put up the chain at the front gate, ascertained that the shutters were closed, all of which were precautions he did not usually take. Then he went down into the cellar, where there was a collection of weapons of all descriptions. He selected a large knife, which he carefully sharpened; put on a shirt of mail, as easy-fitting as silk, but perfectly sword-proof; put on a helmet of extraordinary shape, which completely concealed his face, and went up-stairs again softly. On arriving at the top of the stairs he put out his lamp, and stole forward on tiptoe. He stopped in succession at the doors of the four knights, and peeped through the keyhole to see what they were doing. Mont-Rognon was at his eighth bottle; Porc-en-Truie was asleep; Allegrignac was taking the fresh air in the garden; Maragougnia was furtively counting his money. “Good!” said Ali to himself. “In one hour the gentleman who is at supper will have finished his ninth bottle, and tumbled under the table; the one who is dozing will be snoring soundly; the one who is meditating will be asleep; and as to the fourth-” The proprietor of the “Crocodile” said no more; he had reached the stable, where he flung himself down on the straw. At midnight Allegrignac woke up in a fright. He thought he heard a piercing cry. “Somebody’s having his throat cut,” said the Count de Salençon. He sat down on the foot of his bed and listened. All was silent; you might have heard the spiders spinning their webs. “I wasn’t dreaming, nevertheless--no; I am sure I heard a cry.”