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.

A lugubrious silence pervaded the town.

One might have supposed that there was general mourning, and that each family had lost one of its members.
The manner of the few persons seen upon the thoroughfare was anxious and singular.

They hurried on, casting suspicious glances on every side.
Two or three who were acquaintances of the Baron d'Escorval averted their heads, on seeing his carriage, to avoid the necessity of bowing.
The abbe and Maurice found an explanation of this evident terror on reaching the hotel to which they had ordered the coachman to take them.
They had designated the Hotel de France, where the baron always stopped when he visited Montaignac, and whose proprietor was none other than Laugeron, that friend of Lacheneur, who had been the first to warn him of the arrival of the Duc de Sairmeuse.
This worthy man, on hearing what guests had arrived, went to the court-yard to meet them, with his white cap in his hand.
On such a day politeness was heroism.