said the young man, laughing, “she thinks I am worth something. A hundred louis? Well, that was a temptation for two wretches like you. I understand why you accepted it, and I grant you my pardon; but upon one condition.”

“What is that?” said the soldier, uneasy at perceiving that all was not over.

“That you will go and fetch me the letter your comrade has in his pocket.”

“But,” cried the bandit, “that is only another way of killing me. How can I go and fetch that letter under the fire of the bastion?”

“You must nevertheless make up your mind to go and get it, or I swear you shall die by my hand.”

“Pardon, monsieur; pity! In the name of that young lady you love, and whom you perhaps believe dead but who is not!”