"O my God!"

"Convicted of having strangled his wife to marry another, whose husband
he had first stabbed."

"Heaven help us!" All crossed themselves.

"Yes, good people," continued the furious provost, "this is the nice boy
who has just escaped the king's justice!"

The host's daughter left the room, for she felt she was going to faint.

"But," said the host, "is there no hope of catching him again?"

"Not the slightest, if he has taken the road to the Bourbonnais; for I
believe there are in that province noblemen belonging to his family who
will not allow him to be rearrested."

The fugitive was, indeed, no other than the Marquis de Saint-Maixent,
accused of all the enormous crimes detailed by the provost, who by his
audacious flight opened for himself an active part in the strange story
which it remains to relate.

It came to pass, a fortnight after these events, that a mounted
gentleman rang at the wicket gate of the chateau de Saint-Geran, at
the gates of Moulins. It was late, and the servants were in no hurry to
open. The stranger again pulled the bell in a masterful manner, and
at length perceived a man running from the bottom of the avenue. The
servant peered through the wicket, and making out in the twilight a