"For heaven's sake," said Edmond, "what is it? assuredly some dreadful wickedness of the rebels, fire-brands and murder, or poison."--"No, young man," continued the Marshal, somewhat tranquillized, "against such things I am secure,--my Fleury, the luckless man, my valet, who in other respects is cleverness and dexterity itself, this man at a sign from me (for he only waits upon me and therefore the affair is the more incomprehensible) was handing the salt, and while I was taking it, he entirely upset the saltcellar before me; a mist came over my eyes, I was compelled to go to bed, having discharged my valet, and come here to find consolation and tranquillity." Edmond, who turned away with the greater shame and vexation, the more he had been excited by the narrative; could not sustain the fiery regards of the Marshal, who, in seeking to arouse sympathy, fixed his eyes steadfastly upon him and Christine. The latter very unceremoniously burst into a loud and hearty fit of laughter, while she looked at Edmond almost maliciously. "Well, really! madam," began the Marshal, "this treatment is the more unexpected, as I am unaccustomed to it from you; if such things can make you merry, you think too slightly of the happiness, or unhappiness of your friend." "Not so indeed," said Christine, "besides I am not particularly merry, I think the tale very edifying and dare be sworn, that the woman and children, whom early this morning you so serenely caused to be shot, also upset the saltcellar in their hut yesterday evening, but you are now free from all these accidents, is it not so Marshal?" "Is it permitted to ask," said Edmond modestly, "what the affair is?" "Early this morning," said the Marshal more composedly, "I was compelled to sacrifice a few of these unhappy people to the law, for they would have sent provisions to the rebels in the mountains." "The investigation was somewhat precipitate," said Christine, "not much regard was paid to the denial of the persons arrested; it is true there was some probability, for the mother had a son among the rebels, who may have often enough suffered hunger. She was a woman of forty years of age with two children, one twelve and the other eight years old. They were led through this street." "But not the children?" said Edmond turning pale. The Marshal shrugged up his shoulders and answered lightly, "we must enforce with severity our self-appointed laws, in order to terrify; they could not themselves shew why they were on the by-road; for that they still would have gathered fruit is incredible."