ith another,
and was again received by his vassals with acclamations of joy; but
gloomy suspicions at last arose, for in this way, in succeeding years,
were brought to the Castle eleven young and beautiful damsels. One by
one, they all disappeared. What became of them? No one knew, or, if they
did, dared to tell. When, however, the long-dreaded lord was dead, some
old women declared, that as he became tired of each wife, he stabbed her
at midnight in one of his dungeons, took a sack from a heap which he
kept in the corner, and, sewing her up with his own hands, carried her
noiselessly to the water-gate, and laid her in the bottom of his boat.
Silently and rapidly he rowed to the centre of the lake, and coolly
dropped in his hapless victim amongst the sheltering reeds.

"Ah! Monsieur," the village gossips will still tell you, as they make
the sign of the cross, and tremble till you see their very stuff gowns
shake again; "'tis all true, Monsieur; twenty times have we seen them in
the moonlight--twenty times have we seen the poor souls, in their long
white robes, with their pale faces, and the spot of blood on the left
side, wandering over the lake." Poor Bluebeard, for whom in childhood we
used to feel such awe, was a fool to this baron bold.

There, a little in front of you, is the fortified village of Chamou,
which in former years defended the eastern opening of Les Grand Ravins;
also Lingou, an old citadel, three stories high, whose walls, now
cracked and ivy bound, guarded them on the south. This piece of feudal
architecture, full of trap-doors and dungeons, subterranean passages,
and secret stairs, is another of the places dreaded and abhorred by the
peasantry of Le Morvan; for near the walls, they say, at certain
periods, sounds can be distinctly heard under ground, funeral chaunts,
and the tolling of bells; and if you have the daring to apply your ear
to the sod, you will be able to distinguish sighs and sobs, and the dull
rattle of the earth thrown upon the victim's coffin.

CHAPTER V.

Castle of Bazoche--Marechal de Vauban--Relics of the old
Marshal--Memorials of Philipsburg--Hotel de Bazarne--Madame de
Pompadour's maitre d'hotel--Proof of the _cures'_ grief--Farm of
St. Hibaut--Youthful recollections--Monsieur de Cheribalde--Navarre
the Four-Pounder--His culverin.

Each of the Radcliffian horrors narrated in the last chapter, though
vastly marvellous, most probably originat