accompanied by the commissary of police,
seized that incriminating article, which Denise let them take without
manifesting the least emotion. It was a handkerchief, on which, in spite
of its soaking in the river, traces of blood could still be seen. When
questioned as to what she was doing there, Denise said she was taking
the stolen gold from the river according to her brother's instructions.
The commissary asked her why she was burning certain articles; she said
she was obeying her brother's last directions. When asked what those
articles were she boldly answered, without attempting to deceive: "A
foulard, a shawl, a cambric handkerchief, and the handkerchief now
captured." The latter had belonged to her brother.

This discovery and its attendant circumstances made a great stir in
Limoges. The shawl, more especially, confirmed the belief that Tascheron
had committed this crime in the interests of some love affair.

"He protects that woman after his death," said one lady, hearing of
these last discoveries, rendered harmless by the criminal's precautions.

"There may be some husband in Limoges who will miss his foulard," said
the _procureur-du-roi_, with a laugh, "but he will not dare speak of
it."

"These matters of dress are really so compromising," said old Madame
Perret, "that I shall make a search through my wardrobe this very
evening."

"Whose pretty little footmarks could he have taken such pains to efface
while he left his own?" said Monsieur de Grandville.

"Pooh! I dare say she was an ugly woman," said the _procureur-du-roi_.

"She has paid dearly for her sin," observed the Abbe de Grancour.

"Do you know what this affair shows?" cried Monsieur de Grandville. "It
shows what women have lost by the Revolution, which has levelled all
social ranks. Passions of this kind are no longer met with except in
men who still feel an enormous distance between themselves and their
mistresses."

"You saddle love with many vanities," remarked the Abbe Dutheil.

"What does Madame Graslin think?" asked the prefect.

"What do you expect her to think?" said Monsieur de Grandville. "Her
child was born, as she predicted to me, on the morning of the execution;
she has not seen any one since then, for she is dangerously ill."

A scene took place in another salon in Limoges which was almost comical.
The friends of the des Vanneaulx came to congratulate them on the
recovery of their property.

"Yes, but they ought to hav