ABSTRACT
Again the murdered body, which had before impeded his passage, made D’Alonville start, and pass it shuddering. The poor man seemed ready to faint; and fear seemed again to have taken such possession of him, that it was with difficulty he could be persuaded to go on. The wind groaned mournfully along the cloister, and muttered round the buttresses without. The man, in a low tremulous voice, entreated D’Alonville to stop – ‘Hark!’ said he, ‘there is a noise – I hear them in the hall! – Oh! Sir, we shall be murdered at last!’ D’Alonville listened – ‘I hear nothing,’ said he, ‘but the wind – Your past sufferings have made you too apprehensive – let us, however, proceed cautiously; though I think it is most likely, that the persons who have robbed the castle retired in the evening with their plunder, and that they will not return till morning to renew their robbery.’ Again they stopped and listened, but still heard only the wind; and the gard de chasse, a little re-assured by D’Alonville’s reason and resolution, proceeded with more courage.
