that the convent, the park and the forest
had become, under the title of state property, the property of the
republic; that is to say, they belonged to nobody, or were at the best
neglected. The republic having, for the last seven years, other things
to think of than pointing walls, cultivating an orchard and cutting
timber.

For seven years, therefore, the Chartreuse had been completely
abandoned, and if by chance curious eyes peered through the keyhole,
they caught glimpses of grass-grown courtyards, brambles in the orchard,
and brush in the forest, which, except for one road and two or three
paths that crossed it, had become almost impenetrable. The Correrie, a
species of pavilion belonging to the monastery and distant from it about
three-quarters of a mile, was mossgrown too in the tangle of the forest,
which, profiting by its liberty, grew at its own sweet will, and had
long since encircled it in a mantle of foliage which hid it from sight.

For the rest, the strangest rumors were current about these two
buildings. They were said to be haunted by guests invisible by day,
terrifying at night. The woodsmen and the belated peasants, who went to
the forest to exercise against the Republic the rights which the town of
Bourg had enjoyed in the days of the monks, pretended that, through the
cracks of the closed blinds, they had seen flames of fire dancing along
the corridors and stairways, and had distinctly heard the noise of
chains clanking over the cloister tilings and the pavement of the
courtyards. The strong-minded denied these things; but two very opposite
classes opposed the unbelievers, confirming the rumors, attributing
these terrifying noises and nocturnal lights to two different causes
according to their beliefs. The patriots declared that they were
the ghosts of the poor monks buried alive by cloister tyranny in the
In-pace, who were now returned to earth, dragging after them their
fetters to call down the vengeance of Heaven upon their persecutors.
The royalists said that they were the imps of the devil, who, finding
an empty convent, and fearing no further danger from holy water, were
boldly holding their revels where once they had not dared show a claw.
One fact, however, left everything uncertain. Not one of the believers
or unbelievers--whether he elected for the souls of the martyred monks
or for the Witches' Sabbath of Beelzebub--had ever had the courage to
venture among the shadows, and to seek durin