At last he perceived the roofs of a tiny hamlet.  He decided to enter it and ask for food.  He was on the outskirts of the village, when he heard the rolling of a drum.  Instinctively he hid behind a wall.  But it was only a town-crier beating his drum to call the people together.

And soon a voice rose so clear and penetrating that each word it uttered fell distinctly on Lacheneur’s ears.

It said: 

“This is to inform you that the authorities of Montaignac promise to give a reward of twenty thousand francs—­two thousand pistoles, you understand—­to him who will deliver up the man known as Lacheneur, dead or alive.  Dead or alive, you understand.  If he is dead, the compensation will be the same; twenty thousand francs!  It will be paid in gold.”

With a bound, Lacheneur had risen, wild with despair and horror.  Though he had believed himself utterly exhausted, he found superhuman strength to flee.

A price had been set upon his head.  This frightful thought awakened in his breast the frenzy that renders a hunted wild beast so dangerous.

In all the villages around him he fancied he could hear the rolling of drums, and the voice of the criers proclaiming this infamous edict.

Go where he would now, he was a tempting bait offered to treason and cupidity.  In what human creature could he confide?  Under what roof could he ask shelter?

And even if he were dead, he would still be worth a fortune.

Though he died from lack of nourishment and exhaustion under a bush by the wayside, his emaciated body would still be worth twenty thousand francs.

And the man who found his corpse would not give it burial.  He would place it on his cart and bear it to Montaignac.  He would go to the authorities and say:  “Here is Lacheneur’s body—­give me the reward!”

How long and by what paths he pursued his flight, he could not tell.

But several hours after, as he traversed the wooded hills of Charves, he saw two men, who sprang up and fled at his approach.  In a terrible voice, he called after them: 

“Eh! you men! do each of you desire a thousand pistoles?  I am Lacheneur.”

They paused when they recognized him, and Lacheneur saw that they were two of his followers.  They were well-to-do farmers, and it had been very difficult to induce them to take part in the revolt.

These men had part of a loaf of bread and a little brandy.  They gave both to the famished man.

They sat down beside him on the grass, and while he was eating they related their misfortunes.  Their connection with the conspiracy had been discovered; their houses were full of soldiers, who were hunting for them, but they hoped to reach Italy by the aid of a guide who was waiting for them at an appointed place.

Lacheneur extended his hand to them.

“Then I am saved,” said he.  “Weak and wounded as I am, I should perish if I were left alone.”