“Have I the honor of speaking to Madame Graslin?” asked Farrabesche. “Yes, my friend,” she answered. Farrabesche instantly disappeared, with the rapidity of a wild animal, after casting a glance at his mistress that was full of fear. XIII. FARRABESCHE Veronique hastened to mount her horse and rejoin the servants, who were beginning to be uneasy about her; for the strange unhealthiness of the Roche-Vive was well known throughout the neighborhood. Colorat begged his mistress to go down into the little valley which led to the plain. It would be dangerous, he said, to return by the hills, or by the tangled paths they had followed in the morning, where, even with his knowledge of the country, they were likely to be lost in the dusk. Once on the plain Veronique rode slowly. “Who is this Farrabesche whom you employ?” she asked her forester. “Has madame met him?” cried Colorat. “Yes, but he ran away from me.” “Poor man! perhaps he does not know how kind madame is.” “But what has he done?” “Ah! madame, Farrabesche is a murderer,” replied Champion, simply. “Then they pardoned him!” said Veronique, in a trembling voice. “No, madame,” replied Colorat, “Farrabesche was tried and condemned to ten years at the galleys; he served half his time, and then he was released on parole and came here in 1827. He owes his life to the rector, who persuaded him to give himself up to justice. He had been condemned to death by default, and sooner or later he must have been taken and executed. Monsieur Bonnet went to find him in the woods, all alone, at the risk of being killed. No one knows what he said to Farrabesche. They were alone together two days; on the third day the rector brought Farrabesche to Tulle, where he gave himself up. Monsieur Bonnet went to see a good lawyer and begged him to do his best for the man. Farrabesche escaped with ten years in irons. The rector went to visit him in prison, and that dangerous fellow, who used to be the terror of the whole country, became as gentle as a girl; he even let them take him to the galleys without a struggle. On his return he settled here by the rector’s advice; no one says a word against him; he goes to mass every Sunday and all the feast-days. Though his place is among us he slips in beside the wall and sits alone. He goes to the altar sometimes and prays, but when he takes the holy sacrament he always kneels apart.” “And you say that man killed another man?” “One!” exclaimed Colorat; “he killed several! But he is a good man all the same.” “Is that possible?” exclaimed Veronique, letting the bridle fall on the neck of her horse.