About three o'clock, however, the Prussians began to make their preparations for departure. The officer had gone to Dominique's room and remained closeted, with him for some minutes, as he had done the day before. Françoise knew that the young man's life was hanging in the balance; she clasped her hands and put up fervent prayers. Beside her sat Father Merlier, rigid and silent, declining, like the true peasant he was, to attempt any interference with accomplished facts.
"Oh! my God! my God!" Françoise exclaimed, "they are going to kill him!"
The miller drew her to him and took her on his lap as if she had been a little child. At this juncture the officer came from the room, followed by two men conducting Dominique between them.
"Never, never!" the latter exclaimed. "I am ready to die."
"You had better think the matter over," the officer replied. "I shall have no trouble in finding some one else to render us the service which you refuse. I am generous with you; I offer you your life. It is simply a matter of guiding us across the forest to Montredon; there must be paths."
Dominique made no answer.
"Then you persist in your obstinacy?"
"Shoot me, and have done with the matter," he replied.
Françoise, in the distance, entreated her lover with clasped hands; she was forgetful of all considerations save one, she would have had him commit a treason. But Father Merlier seized her hands that the Prus-
