On seeing this man, whose face was ghastly pale, and whose clothing was torn and soiled with dust and blood, the woman rose, evidently more surprised than alarmed.
She looked at him closely, and saw that his age, his stature, and his features corresponded with the descriptions of Lacheneur, which had been scattered thickly about the frontier.
“You are the conspirator they are hunting for, and for whom they promise a reward of twenty thousand francs,” she said.
Lacheneur trembled.
“Yes, I am Lacheneur,” he replied, after a moment’s hesitation; “I am Lacheneur. Betray me, if you will, but in charity’s name give me a morsel of bread, and allow me to rest a little.”
At the words “betray me,” the young woman made a gesture of horror and disgust.
“We betray you, sir!” said she. “Ah! you do not know the Antoines! Enter our house, and lie down upon the bed while I prepare some refreshments for you. When my husband comes home, we will see what can be done.”
It was nearly sunset when the master of the house, a robust mountaineer, with a frank face, returned.
On beholding the stranger seated at his fireside he turned frightfully pale.
“Unfortunate woman!” he whispered to his wife, “do you not know that any man who shelters this fugitive will be shot, and his house levelled to the ground?”