Of his imperturbable assurance, of his wonted impudence, of his
obsequious and cunning smile, absolutely nothing remained.
His restless eyes, the contraction of his features, his gloomy manner,
and the occasional shudder which he could not repress, all betrayed his
secret perturbation.
So marked was the change that even the Duc de Sairmeuse observed it.
"What calamity has happened to you, Master Chupin?" he inquired.
"This has happened," he responded, sullenly: "when I was coming here
the children of the town threw mud and stones at me, and ran after me,
shouting: 'Traitor! traitor!'"
He clinched his fists; he seemed to be meditating vengeance, and he
added:
"The people of Montaignac are pleased. They know that the baron has
escaped, and they are rejoicing."
Alas! this joy was destined to be of short duration, for this was the
day appointed for the execution of the conspirators.
It was Wednesday.
At noon the gates of the citadel were closed, and the gloom was
profound and universal, when the heavy rolling of drums announced the
preparations for the frightful holocaust.
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