will be the same; twenty thousand francs! It will be paid in gold."

With a bound, Lacheneur had risen, wild with despair and horror. Though
he had believed himself utterly exhausted, he found superhuman strength
to flee.

A price had been set upon his head. This frightful thought awakened in
his breast the frenzy that renders a hunted wild beast so dangerous.

In all the villages around him he fancied he could hear the rolling of
drums, and the voice of the criers proclaiming this infamous edict.

Go where he would now, he was a tempting bait offered to treason and
cupidity. In what human creature could he confide? Under what roof could
he ask shelter?

And even if he were dead, he would still be worth a fortune.

Though he died from lack of nourishment and exhaustion under a bush by
the wayside, his emaciated body would still be worth twenty thousand
francs.

And the man who found his corpse would not give it burial. He would
place it on his cart and bear it to Montaignac. He would go to the
authorities and say: "Here is Lacheneur's body--give me the reward!"

How long and by what paths he pursued his flight, he could not tell.

But several hours after, as he traversed the wooded hills of Charves,
he saw two men, who sprang up and fled at his approach. In a terrible
voice, he called after them:

"Eh! you men! do each of you desire a thousand pistoles? I am
Lacheneur."

They paused when they recognized him, and Lacheneur saw that they were
two of his followers. They were well-to-do farmers, and it had been very
difficult to induce them to take part in the revolt.

These men had part of a loaf of bread and a little brandy. They gave
both to the famished man.

They sat down beside him on the grass, and while he was eating they
related their misfortunes. Their connection with the conspiracy had been
discovered; their houses were full of soldiers, who were hunting for
them, but they hoped to reach Italy by the aid of a guide who was
waiting for them at an appointed place.

Lacheneur extended his hand to them.

"Then I am saved," said he. "Weak and wounded as I am, I should perish
if I were left alone."

But the two farmers did not accept the hand he offered.

"We should leave you," said the younger man, gloomily, "for you are the
cause of our misfortunes. You deceived us, Monsieur Lacheneur."

He dared not protest, so just was the reproach.

"Nonsense! let him come all the same," said the other, with