I, René, Chevalier de Maison-Rouge, declare by God and my honor, that I have by threats of death compelled the worthy curé of Saint Landry to convey me to the Conciergerie, notwithstanding his refusal and great repugnance to do so. In proof of which I have signed—
Maison-Rouge.
"It is well," said the priest; "but swear to me once again that you will be guilty of no imprudence. It is not sufficient that my life is saved, I am answerable also for yours."
"Think not of that," said the Chevalier. "Then you consent?"
"I must, since you so absolutely insist. You can wait outside, and when she comes to the wicket you will see her."
The Chevalier seized the hand of the old priest and kissed it with all the ardor and respect he would have kissed the crucifix.
"Oh!" murmured the Chevalier, "she shall die at least like a queen, and the hand of the executioner shall never touch her!"
THE CART.