nd, and he lost his
balance at this violent as well as unexpected push. He stumbled over
the first step, reeled as he tried to regain his footing, and fell head
first down the almost vertical declivity. A ledge of the cliff, against
which he first struck, threw him upon the loose rocks. He slowly glided
downward, uttering lamentable cries; he clutched, for a moment, a little
bush which had grown in a crevice of the rocks but he did not have
strength enough to hold on to it, his arm having been broken in three
places by his fall. He let go of it suddenly, and dropped farther and
farther down uttering a last terrible shriek of despair; he rolled over
twice again-and then fell into the torrent below, that swallowed him up
like a mass already deprived of life.

BOOK 4.

CHAPTER XX. MARILLAC TELLS A STORY

Guests were seated that evening around the oval table in the dining-room
of the castle of Bergenheim. According to custom, the ladies were not
present at this repast. This was a custom which had been adopted by the
Baroness for the suppers which were given by her husband at the close
of his hunting parties; she dispensed with appearing at table on those
days; perhaps she was too fastidious to preside at these lengthy seances
of which the ruses of the hare, the death of the stag, and the feats of
the hounds, formed the principal topics of conversation. It is probable
that this conduct was duly appreciated by those who participated in
those rather boisterous repasts, and that they felt a certain gratitude,
in spite of the regrets they manifested on account of Madame's absence.

Among the guests was Marillac, whose sparkling eye, and cheeks even more
rosy than usual, made him conspicuous. Seated between a fat notary and
another boon companion, who were almost as drunk as he Marillac emptied
glass after glass, red wine after the white, the white after the red,
with noisy laughter, and jests of all kinds by way of accompaniment. His
head became every moment more and more excited by the libations destined
to refresh his throat, and his neighbors, without his perceiving the
conspiracy, thought it would be good fun to put a Parisian dandy under
the table. However, he was not the only one who was gliding over the
slippery precipice that leads to the attractive abyss of drunkenness.
The majority of the guests shared his imprudent abandon and progressive
exaltation. A bacchic emulation reigned, which threatened to end