re growing tired of merely having their fill of bread and meat; they
were demanding money, and we had none. We had received more than one
serious summons to pay our fiscal dues to the state, and as our private
creditors had joined hands with the crown officers and the recalcitrant
peasants, everything was threatening us with a catastrophe like that
which had just overtaken the Seigneur de Pleumartin in our province.(*)

(*) The reputation which the Seigneur de Pleumartin has left
behind him in the province will preserve the story of
Mauprat from the reproach of exaggeration. Pen would refuse
to trace the savage obscenities and refinements of cruelty
which marked the life of this madman, and which perpetuated
the traditions of feudal brigandage in Berry down to the
last days of the ancient monarchy. His chateau was besieged,
and after a stubborn resistance he was taken and hanged.
There are many people still living, nor yet very advanced in
years, who knew the man.

My uncles had long thought of making common cause with this country
squire in his marauding expeditions and his resistance to authority.
However, just as Pleumartin, about to fall into the hands of his
enemies, had given his word of honour that he would welcome us as
friends and allies if we went to his assistance, we had heard of his
defeat and tragic end. Thus we ourselves were now on our guard night
and day. It was a question of either fleeing the country or bracing
ourselves for a decisive struggle. Some counselled the former
alternative; the others declared their resolve to follow the advice of
their dying father and to find a grave under the ruins of the keep.
Any suggestion of flight or compromise they denounced as contemptible
cowardice. The fear, then, of incurring such a reproach, and perhaps in
some measure an instinctive love of danger, still kept me back. However,
my aversion to this odious existence was only lying dormant, ready to
break out violently at any moment.

One evening, after a heavy supper, we remained at table, drinking
and conversing--God knows in what words and on what subject! It was
frightful weather. The rain, driven through the broken windows, was
running in streams across the stone floor of the hall; and the old walls
were trembling in the storm. The night wind was whistling through chinks
in the roof and making the flames of our resin torches flicker weirdly.
During the mea