d cry, not so loud as the first and followed by
a long groan.

The executioner, who had lifted himself up, fell back upon his bed. As
to the monk, without withdrawing the poniard from the wound, he ran to
the window, opened it, leaped out into the flowers of a small garden,
glided onward to the stable, took out his mule, went out by a back gate,
ran to a neighbouring thicket, threw off his monkish garb, took from
his valise the complete habiliment of a cavalier, clothed himself in it,
went on foot to the first post, secured there a horse and continued with
a loose rein his journey to Paris.

33. Grimaud Speaks.

Grimaud was left alone with the executioner, who in a few moments opened
his eyes.

"Help, help," he murmured; "oh, God! have I not a single friend in the
world who will aid me either to live or to die?"

"Take courage," said Grimaud; "they are gone to find assistance."

"Who are you?" asked the wounded man, fixing his half opened eyes on
Grimaud.

"An old acquaintance," replied Grimaud.

"You?" and the wounded man sought to recall the features of the person
now before him.

"Under what circumstances did we meet?" he asked again.

"One night, twenty years ago, my master fetched you from Bethune and
conducted you to Armentieres."

"I know you well now," said the executioner; "you were one of the four
grooms."

"Just so."

"Where do you come from now?"

"I was passing by and drew up at this inn to rest my horse. They told
me the executioner of Bethune was here and wounded, when you uttered two
piercing cries. At the first we ran to the door and at the second forced
it open."

"And the monk?" exclaimed the executioner, "did you see the monk?"

"What monk?"

"The monk that was shut in with me."

"No, he was no longer here; he appears to have fled by the window. Was
he the man that stabbed you?"

"Yes," said the executioner.

Grimaud moved as if to leave the room.

"What are you going to do?" asked the wounded man.

"He must be apprehended."

"Do not attempt it; he has revenged himself and has done well. Now I may
hope that God will forgive me, since my crime is expiated."

"Explain yourself." said Grimaud.

"The woman whom you and your masters commanded me to kill----"

"Milady?"

"Yes, Milady; it is true you called her thus."

"What has the monk to do with this Milady?"

"She was his mother."

Grimaud trembled and stared at the dying man in a dull and leaden
mann