e
familiar "thee" and "thou" ever since the morning of that famous night
when Coconnas had tried to thrust his poniard into La Mole's vitals. And
he led Coconnas directly to a small window in the house which abutted on
the tower; a man was leaning on the window-sill.

"Aha! here you are, gentlemen," said the man, raising his blood-red cap,
and showing his thick black hair, which came down to his eyebrows. "You
are welcome."

"Who is this man?" inquired Coconnas, endeavoring to recollect, for it
seemed to him he had seen that face during one of the crises of his
fever.

"Your preserver, my dear friend," replied La Mole; "he who brought to
you at the Louvre that refreshing drink which did you so much good."

"Oho!" said Coconnas; "in that case, my friend"--

And he held out his hand to him.

But the man, instead of returning the gesture, drew himself up and
withdrew from the two friends just the distance occupied by the curve of
his body.

"Sir!" he said to Coconnas, "thanks for the honor you wish to confer on
me, but it is probable that if you knew me you would not do so."

"Faith!" said Coconnas, "I declare that, even if you were the devil
himself, I am very greatly obliged to you, for if it had not been for
you I should be dead at this time."

"I am not exactly the devil," replied the man in the red cap; "but yet
persons are frequently found who would rather see the devil than me."

"Who are you, pray?" asked Coconnas.

"Sir," replied the man, "I am Maitre Caboche, the executioner of the
provostry of Paris"--

"Ah"--said Coconnas, withdrawing his hand.

"You see!" said Maitre Caboche.

"No, no; I will touch your hand, or may the devil fetch me! Hold it
out"--

"Really?"

"Wide as you can."

"Here it is."

"Open it--wider--wider!"

And Coconnas took from his pocket the handful of gold he had prepared
for his anonymous physician and placed it in the executioner's hand.

"I would rather have had your hand entirely and solely," said Maitre
Caboche, shaking his head, "for I do not lack money, but I am in need
of hands to touch mine. Never mind. God bless you, my dear gentleman."

"So then, my friend," said Coconnas, looking at the executioner with
curiosity, "it is you who put men to the rack, who break them on the
wheel, quarter them, cut off heads, and break bones. Aha! I am very glad
to have made your acquaintance."

"Sir," said Maitre Caboche, "I do not do all myself; just as you noble
gen