iece of bread, which she
eat while she warmed herself, and now she has gone to sleep.'

"The figure moved slightly in its corner.

"'What has happened to you, Monsieur le Marquis,' asked the farmer's
wife, 'that you are so wet, and that your clothes are splashed with mud
up to the shoulder?'

"'You nearly had to dine without me, my good Martine,' I replied,
'although this repast and this fire were prepared for me.'----"'Truly!'
cried the good woman, alarmed.

"'Ah! monsieur had a narrow escape!' said the farmer.

"'How so, my good lord?'

"'You know your marshes are full of bogs; I ventured without sounding
the ground, and all at once I felt that I was sinking in; so that, had
it not been for my gun, which I held across, enabling your husband to
come and pull me out, I should have been smothered, which is not only a
cruel but a stupid death.'

"'Oh, monsieur,' said the wife, 'pray do not expose yourself in this
way!'

"'Let him alone,' said the sepulchral voice of the figure crouched in
the chimney-corner; 'he will not die thus; I foretell that.'

"And, lowering the hood of her gray cloak, she showed me the face of
that woman who had twice crossed my path with sad prediction.

"I remained motionless and petrified.

"'You recognize me?' she asked, without moving.

"I made a sign of assent, but had not really the courage to reply. All
gathered in a circle round us.

"'No, no,' continued she; 'be easy, Marquis de Guer; you will not die
thus.'

"'How do you know?' I stammered out, with a conviction, however, that
she did know.

"'I cannot tell you, for I do not know myself; but you know well that I
do not make mistakes.'

"'And how shall I die?' asked I, making an effort over myself to ask
this question and to listen to her reply.

"'You will die by the sea. Beware of the water, Marquis de Guer!' she
replied.

"'How?' asked I. 'What do you mean?'

"'I have spoken, and cannot explain further, marquis; but again I say,
_Beware of the water!_'

"All the peasants looked frightened; some muttered prayers, others
crossed themselves; the old woman returned to her corner, buried herself
again in her cloak, and did not speak another syllable.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ARREST.

"The details of this affair may some day escape my memory, but the
impression it made will never be effaced. I had not the shadow of a
doubt; and this prediction took the aspect of a reality, as far as I was
concerned. Yes,"