beating of
every heart.

Who could say that this rider was not some English or Prussian officer?
He had come, perhaps, to announce the arrival of his regiment, and
imperiously demand money, clothing, and food for his soldiers.

But the suspense was not of long duration.

The rider proved to be a fellow-countryman, clad in a torn and dirty
blue linen blouse. He was urging forward, with repeated blows, a little,
bony, nervous mare, fevered with foam.

"Ah! it is Father Chupin," murmured one of the peasants with a sigh of
relief.

"The same," observed another. "He seems to be in a terrible hurry."

"The old rascal has probably stolen the horse he is riding."

This last remark disclosed the reputation Father Chupin enjoyed among
his neighbors.

He was, indeed, one of those thieves who are the scourge and the terror
of the rural districts. He pretended to be a day-laborer, but the
truth was, that he held work in holy horror, and spent all his time in
sleeping and idling about his hovel. Hence, stealing was the only
means of support for himself, his wife, two sons--terrible youths, who,
somehow, had escaped the conscription.

They consumed nothing that was not stolen. Wheat, wine, fuel,
fruits--all were the rightful property of others. Hunting and fishing
at all seasons, and with forbidden appliances, furnished them with ready
money.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew this; and yet when Father Chupin was
pursued and captured, as he was occasionally, no witness could be found
to testify against him.

"He is a hard case," men said; "and if he had a grudge against anyone,
he would be quite capable of lying in ambush and shooting him as he
would a squirrel."

Meanwhile the rider had drawn rein at the inn of the Boeuf Couronne.

He alighted from his horse, and, crossing the square, approached the
church.

He was a large man, about fifty years of age, as gnarled and sinewy as
the stem of an old grape-vine. At the first glance one would not have
taken him for a scoundrel. His manner was humble, and even gentle; but
the restlessness of his eye and the expression of his thin lips betrayed
diabolical cunning and the coolest calculation.

At any other time this despised and dreaded individual would have been
avoided; but curiosity and anxiety led the crowd toward him.

"Ah, well, Father Chupin!" they cried, as soon as he was within the
sound of their voices; "whence do you come in such haste?"

"From the city."