and said, "In the name of God, since you have killed my body, at least do
not destroy my soul, but send me a confessor."

Cruel though the abbe and the chevalier were, they were no doubt
beginning to weary of such a scene; moreover, the mortal deed was
accomplished--after what she had drunk, the marquise could live but a few
minutes; at her petition they went out, locking the door behind them.
But no sooner did the marquise find herself alone than the possibility of
flight presented itself to her. She ran to the window: this was but
twenty-two feet above the ground, but the earth below was covered with
stones and rubbish. The marquise, being only in her nightdress, hastened
to slip on a silk petticoat; but at the moment when she finished tying it
round her waist she heard a step approaching her room, and believing that
her murderers were returning to make an end of her, she flew like a
madwoman to the window. At the moment of her setting foot on the window
ledge, the door opened: the marquise, ceasing to consider anything, flung
herself down, head first.

Fortunately, the new-comer, who was the castle chaplain, had time to
reach out and seize her skirt. The skirt, not strong enough to bear the
weight of the marquise, tore; but its resistance, slight though it was,
sufficed nevertheless to change the direction of her body: the marquise,
whose head would have been shattered on the stones, fell on her feet
instead, and beyond their being bruised by the stones, received no
injury. Half stunned though she was by her fall, the marquise saw
something coming after her, and sprang aside. It was an enormous pitcher
of water, beneath which the priest, when he saw her escaping him, had
tried to crush her; but either because he had ill carried out his attempt
or because the marquise had really had time to move away, the vessel was
shattered at her feet without touching her, and the priest, seeing that