The soldiers could scarcely believe their eyes when they saw this robust young fellow, who had been so insolent and defiant a few hours before, so overcome that they were obliged to carry him to his cell.
There, his lamentations were redoubled; and he begged the guard to go to the Duc de Sairmeuse, or the Marquis de Courtornieu, and tell them he had revelations of the greatest importance to make.
That potent word “revelations” made M. de Courtornieu hasten to the prisoner’s cell.
He found Chanlouineau on his knees, his features distorted by what was apparently an agony of fear. The man dragged himself toward him, took his hands and kissed them, imploring mercy and forgiveness, swearing that to preserve his life he was ready to do anything, yes, anything, even to deliver up M. Lacheneur.
To capture Lacheneur! Such a prospect had powerful attractions for the Marquis de Courtornieu.
“Do you know, then, where this brigand is concealed?” he inquired.
Chanlouineau admitted that he did not know, but declared that Marie-Anne, Lacheneur’s daughter, knew her father’s hiding-place. She had, he declared, perfect confidence in him; and if they would only send for her, and allow him ten minutes’ private conversation with her, he was sure he could obtain the secret of her father’s place of concealment. So the bargain was quickly concluded.
The prisoner’s life was promised, him in exchange for the life of Lacheneur.
A soldier, who chanced to be Corporal Bavois, was sent to summon Marie-Anne.
And Chanlouineau waited in terrible anxiety. No one had told him what had taken place at Escorval, but he divined it by the aid of that strange prescience which so often illuminates the mind when death is near at hand.