“Thank you, no; I came to see the corporal,” said the young man, who saw with half a glance that Violette had been drunk all night.

“My wife is nursing him upstairs,” said Michu.

“Well, corporal, how are you?” said Corentin who had run up the stairs and found the gendarme with his head bandaged, and lying on Madame Michu’s bed; his hat, sabre, and shoulder-belt on a chair.

Marthe, faithful in her womanly instincts, and knowing nothing of her son’s prowess, was giving all her care to the corporal, assisted by her mother.

“We expect Monsieur Varlet the doctor from Arcis,” she said to Corentin; “our servant-lad has gone to fetch him.”

“Leave us alone for a moment,” said Corentin, a good deal surprised at the scene, which amply proved the innocence of the two women.  “Where were you struck?” he asked the man, examining his uniform.

“On the breast,” replied the corporal.

“Let’s see your belt,” said Corentin.

On the yellow band with a white edge, which a recent regulation had made part of the equipment of the guard now called National, was a metal plate a good deal like that of the foresters, on which the law required the inscription of these remarkable words:  “Respect to persons and to properties.”  Francois’s rope had struck the belt and defaced it.  Corentin took up the coat and found the place where the button he had picked up upon the road belonged.

“What time did they find you?” asked Corentin.

“About daybreak.”

“Did they bring you up here at once?” said Corentin, noticing that the bed had not been slept in.

“Yes.”

“Who brought you up?”

“The women and little Michu, who found me unconscious.”

“So!” thought Corentin:  “evidently they didn’t go to bed.  The corporal was not shot at, nor struck by any weapon, for an assailant must have been at his own height to strike a blow.  Something, some obstacle, was in his way and that unhorsed him.  A piece of wood? not possible! an iron chain? that would have left marks.  What did you feel?” he said aloud.

“I was knocked over so suddenly—­”

“The skin is rubbed off under your chin,” said Corentin quickly.

“I think,” said the corporal, “that a rope did go over my face.”

“I have it!” cried Corentin; “somebody tied a rope from tree to tree to bar the way.”

“Like enough,” replied the corporal.

Corentin went downstairs to the kitchen.

“Come, you old rascal,” Michu was saying to Violette, “let’s make an end of this.  One hundred thousand francs for the place, and you are master of my whole property.  I shall retire on my income.”

“I tell you, as there’s a God in heaven, I haven’t more than sixty thousand.”

“But don’t I offer you time to pay the rest?  You’ve kept me here since yesterday, arguing it.  The land is in prime order.”