Then they said masses to exorcise that evil spirit, which was without doubt taking his revenge upon the Seigneur who had ordered his death and upon those who had come to see him die.
A month passed in fruitless search.
The gibbet still stood there as always, humiliated, gloomy, and discredited. Never had a gibbet committed such a breach of confidence.
The Seigneur of La Piroche continued to clamor for his armor from man, God, and the devil.
Nothing.
At last he was beginning, without a doubt, to make the best of this strange event, and of the loss which had been the result, when one morning, as he was waking, he heard a great commotion on the square where the execution had taken place. He was making ready to inform himself of what was passing when his chaplain entered the room.
“Monseigneur,” said he, “do you know what has happened?”
“No, but I am going to ask.”
“I can tell you, I can.”
“What is it, then?”