t fear had deprived him of his senses.

Suddenly, at a slight sign from Marche-a-Terre, Pille-Miche pulled off
d'Orgemont's shoes and stockings, Mene-a-Bien and Galope-Chopine seized
him round the body and carried him to the fire. Then Marche-a-Terre took
one of the thongs that tied the fagots and fastened the miser's feet to
the crane. These actions and the horrible celerity with which they were
done brought cries from the victim, which became heart-rending when
Pille-Miche gathered the burning sticks under his legs.

"My friends, my good friends," screamed d'Orgemont, "you hurt me, you
kill me! I'm a Christian like you."

"You lie in your throat!" replied Marche-a-Terre. "Your brother denied
God; and as for you, you bought the abbey of Juvigny. The Abbe Gudin
says we can roast apostates when we find them."

"But, my brothers in God, I don't refuse to pay."

"We gave you two weeks, and it is now two months, and Galope-Chopine
here hasn't received the money."

"Haven't you received any of it, Galope-Chopine?" asked the miser, in
despair.

"None of it, Monsieur d'Orgemont," replied Galope-Chopine, frightened.

The cries, which had sunk into groans, continuous as the rattle in a
dying throat, now began again with dreadful violence. Accustomed to
such scenes, the four Chouans looked at d'Orgemont, who was twisting and
howling, so coolly that they seemed like travellers watching before an
inn fire till the roast meat was done enough to eat.

"I'm dying, I'm dying!" cried the victim, "and you won't get my money."

In spite of these agonizing cries, Pille-Miche saw that the fire did not
yet scorch the skin; he drew the sticks cleverly together so as to make
a slight flame. On this d'Orgemont called out in a quavering voice: "My
friends, unbind me! How much do you want? A hundred crowns--a thousand
crowns--ten thousand crowns--a hundred thousand crowns--I offer you two
hundred thousand crowns!"

The voice became so lamentable that Mademoiselle de Verneuil forgot her
own danger and uttered an exclamation.

"Who spoke?" asked Marche-a-Terre.

The Chouans looked about them with terrified eyes. These men, so brave
in fight, were unable to face a ghost. Pille-Miche alone continued to
listen to the promises which the flames were now extracting from his
victim.

"Five hundred thousand crowns--yes, I'll give them," cried the victim.

"Well, where are they?" answered Pille-Miche, tranquilly.

"Under the first apple-t