"
The abbe and Maurice shuddered as they re-entered their carriage.
"Lacheneur is lost if this man discovers his retreat," murmured the
priest.
"Fortunately, he must have crossed the frontier before this," replied
Maurice. "A hundred to one he is beyond reach."
"And if you should be mistaken. What, if wounded and faint from loss of
blood, Lacheneur has had only strength to drag himself to the nearest
house and ask the hospitality of its inmates?"
"Oh! even in that case he is safe; I know our peasants. There is not one
who is capable of selling the life of a proscribed man."
The noble enthusiasm of youth drew a sad smile from the priest.
"You forget the dangers to be incurred by those who shelter him. Many a
man who would not soil his hands with the price of blood might deliver
up a fugitive from fear."
They were passing through the principal street, and they were struck
with the mournful aspect of the place--the little city which was
ordinarily so bustling and gay--fear and consternation evidently reigned
there. The shops were closed; the shutters of the houses had not been
opened.
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