The Countess M'Gregor, at least, was not his trouble. In showing La
Chouette Fleur-de-Marie's picture, she had exposed her jewels, and to
secure them, the hag poniarded the lady and decamped.




CHAPTER II.

THOU SHALT NOT LUST.


It was night. The profound silence which reigned in the house occupied by
Jacques Ferrand was interrupted at intervals by the sighing of the wind,
and by rain, which fell in torrents. These melancholy sounds seemed to
render still more complete the solitude of the dwelling. In a bed-chamber
on the first floor, very comfortably and newly furnished, and covered with
a thick carpet, a young woman was standing before an excellent fire.

What was very strange, in the center of the door, which was strongly
bolted, and opposite the bed, was placed a small wicket of about five or
six inches square, which could be opened on the outside.

A reflecting lamp cast an obscure light in this room, which was hung with
garnet-colored silk; the curtains of the bed, as also the covering of a
large sofa, were of silk and worsted damask, of the same color.

We are minute in these details of furniture, so recently imported into the
dwelling of the notary, because it announces a complete revolution in the