"What do you mean?" said Blassemare, growing very pale. "Why, why, you have not, great God, you have not hurt the wretched woman?" and he grasped him by the collar with a hand that trembled with mingled fury and horror. "It was _she_, I tell you--let me go--it was she--she that tried--by ----, she had a knife at my throat--I could not help it--I'm ruined--help me, Blassemare--for God's sake, help me--what--what is to be done?" Blassemare gave him a look of contemptuous fury, turned from him, and entered the chamber. Le Prun stood like one stupefied, stammering excuses and oaths, and trembling as if it were the day of judgment. Blassemare reentered, paler than before, and said-- "You cowardly, barbarous miscreant, you will answer for it here and hereafter." "Blassemare, my friend--my dear friend--in the name of God, don't denounce me. You would not; no, you could not. I have been a good friend to you. For the love of God, help me, Blassemare--save me. You shall have half my fortune; I'll stick at no terms; I'll make you, by ---- the richest man in Paris. You shall have what you like--every thing, any thing--only help me in this accursed extremity." For a long time, Blassemare met his abject and agonized entreaties with a stoical scorn; at last, however, he relented. The body was removed that night; and it is well known to the readers of old French trials, how wonderfully Providence supplied by a chain of apparent accidents, an important witness in our friend Gabriel. We left him buried in the hay of the stable-loft. We must pursue his adventure to its conclusion. As soon as he had a little recovered the heat which was nearly extinguished, he got up, and finding an old piece of drugget, he wrapped it about him in the fashion of a cloak; and having looked in vain for any window opening upon the street, he climbed, by the aid of the joists, to an aperture in the half-rotten roof, and passing through it, crept like a cat along, until he reached the spout, down which, at the risk of his neck, he climbed. He was now safe in the public street. Picking up a sharp stone, he scratched some marks, such as he could easily recognize again, upon the gateway. He then knocked at a barber's shop, nearly opposite, where he saw a light, and asked the name of the street, and his route to the Hotel de Secqville. The marquis had arrived before him; and his amazement at the strange attire of his retainer was changed to horror, when he learned the particulars of his adventure.