“Mon Dieu!” said the woman, crossing herself.
If Grimaud was slow in speaking, we know that he was quick to act; he sprang to the door and shook it violently, but it was bolted on the other side.
“Open the door!” cried the host; “open it instantly, sir monk!”
No reply.
“Unfasten it, or I will break it in!” said Grimaud.
The same silence, and then, ere the host could oppose his design, Grimaud seized a pair of pincers he perceived in a corner and forced the bolt. The room was inundated with blood, dripping from the mattresses upon which lay the wounded man, speechless; the monk had disappeared.
“The monk!” cried the host; “where is the monk?”
Grimaud sprang toward an open window which looked into the courtyard.
“He has escaped by this means,” exclaimed he.
“Do you think so?” said the host, bewildered; “boy, see if the mule belonging to the monk is still in the stable.”