“I went to bed early, so that I might start out at daybreak.

“My dog was already asleep on the floor, at the foot of my bed, when I put out the light.

“I was awakened toward midnight by the furious barking of my dog Bock.  I immediately noticed that my room was full of smoke.  I jumped out of bed, struck a light, ran to the door and opened it.  A cloud of flames burst in.  The house was on fire.

“I quickly closed the heavy oak door and, drawing on my trousers, I first lowered the dog through the window, by means of a rope made of my sheets; then, having thrown out the rest of my clothes, my game-bag and my gun, I in turn escaped the same way.

“I began to shout with all my might:  ‘Cavalier!  Cavalier!  Cavalier!’

“But the gamekeeper did not wake up.  He slept soundly like an old gendarme.

“However, I could see through the lower windows that the whole ground-floor was nothing but a roaring furnace; I also noticed that it had been filled with straw to make it burn readily.

“Somebody must purposely have set fire to the place!

“I continued shrieking wildly:  ‘Cavalier!’

“Then the thought struck me that the smoke might be suffocating him.  An idea came to me.  I slipped two cartridges into my gun, and shot straight at his window.

“The six panes of glass shattered into the room in a cloud of glass.  This time the old man had heard me, and he appeared, dazed, in his nightshirt, bewildered by the glare which illumined the whole front of his ’house.

“I cried to him: 

“‘Your house is on fire!  Escape through the window!  Quick!  Quick!’

“The flames were coming out through all the cracks downstairs, were licking along the wall, were creeping toward him and going to surround him.  He jumped and landed on his feet, like a cat.

“It was none too soon.  The thatched roof cracked in the middle, right over the staircase, which formed a kind of flue for the fire downstairs; and an immense red jet jumped up into the air, spreading like a stream of water and sprinkling a shower of sparks around the hut.  In a few seconds it was nothing but a pool of flames.

“Cavalier, thunderstruck, asked: 

“‘How did the fire start?’

“I answered: 

“‘Somebody lit it in the kitchen.’

“He muttered: 

“‘Who could have started the fire?’

“And I, suddenly guessing, answered: 

“‘Marius!’

“The old man understood.  He stammered: 

“‘Good God!  That is why he didn’t return.’

“A terrible thought flashed through my mind.  I cried: 

“‘And Celeste!  Celeste!’

“He did not answer.  The house caved in before us, forming only an enormous, bright, blinding brazier, an awe-inspiring funeral-pile, where the poor woman could no longer be anything but a glowing ember, a glowing ember of human flesh.