concerned only to know if he was followed by the monk. At sight of this pale, bleeding man, the wife grasped her husband’s arm.

“Well, what’s the matter?” asked the latter, “are you going to be ill just now?”

“No, but look,” replied the hostess, pointing to the wounded man; “I ask you if you recognize him?”

“That man — wait a bit.”

“Ah! I see you know him,” exclaimed the wife; “for you have become pale in your turn.”

“Truly,” cried the host, “misfortune is coming on our house; it is the former executioner of Bethune.”

“The former executioner of Bethune!”