the divine right of the seigneur to do as he
pleased.  The domestics were generally
hereditary servants, whose entire and perfect
fidelity to the family was the virtue of their
class.  Any crime could be perpetrated in
these country residences with the profoundest
secrecy, and it was quite possible to stifle all
evidence of actions that, if once known,
would seem of too monstrous growth for
society to contain, much less to conceal.
Added to this, high roads were few and bad
in those parts of the country, remote from
Paris, or at a distance from large towns;
and small towns and villages within a few
miles of each other were as much isolated as
if they had stood in different countries.  The
system of the administration of justice was
complicated, and very different from the present
system of centralisation.  Every town had its
lieutenant-particulier, its procureur, its judge,
and all the machinery of a separate administration
of justice, except in cases of appeal
to a higher court.  No district could meddle
with the affairs of another, and consequently
there was no unity of action.  The course of
justice was complicated to a degree difficult to
conceive in these days.  Years were consumed,
and the accused were either left to languish
in a dungeon—a heavy punishment for a
convicted malefactor—or the trials were
concluded with a fatal precipitancy.

As we have said, the Sieur de la Pivardière
was never seen by any of the inmates of the
château, after they had retired for the night
on the fifteenth of August, sixteen hundred
and ninety-seven, leaving him alone with his
wife in the dining-room after the guests had
departed.

His horse, his arms, his riding-boots, and
his heavy travelling cloak, were all left at the
château, but the master of them was no
where to be seen.  This mysterious
disappearance began to be whispered abroad, and
a vague, sinister report that he had been
murdered began to circulate.  Four persons
belonging to the château declared they heard
the report of a musket on the night of the
fifteenth of August.  The two female servants
of Madame de la Pivardière said things that
seemed to confirm the report beginning to
gain ground, and people murmured that the
magistrates of the district took no steps to
inquire into the matter.

At last the report of the Sieur de la
Pivardière's disappearance under suspicious
circumstances reached Chatillon Sur l'Indre,
and M. Morin, the procureur of that district,
made a formal demand of the higher
authorities to be allowed to inquire into the truth
of the reports, and to make a public memorial
of the result.  This was on the fifth of
September, and the next morning M. Morin and
M. Bonnet, the lieutenant-particulier of
Chatillon, repaired to the village of Jeu, in which
parish Nerbonne was situated.  They
examined fifteen witnesses, who, however,
could only depose to what they had heard
from the two female domestics of Madame de
la Pivardière. In consequence an order was
issued for the arrest of Madame de la
Pivardière, her children and servants.  Catherine
Lemoins, one of the two female servants, was
arrested and thrown into prison; Catherine
Lemercier, the other servant, made her escape.
Madame de la Pivardière, who loudly asserted
her innocence, concealed herself in the house
of a friend.  Madame d' Aunine, another friend,
took charge of her jewels and plate, whilst
some of the neighbouring peasantry received
her furniture, leaving the château to the mercy
of the emissaries of the law.  Madame de la
Pivardière's little daughter—ten years old—
was taken to the house of Madame de
Préville, a friend of the family.  After she had
been there a few days, she related a story
which caused an immense sensation, and
seemed quite conclusive as to the fate of her
father and the guilt of her mother.

She said, that on the fifteenth of last
August, she had not been put to bed in her
usual bed-room, but in a garret at the top of
the house, and that after she was in bed her
mother came and locked the door upon her.
During the night she was awakened by a great
noise and a lamentable voice crying out, "O
my God, have mercy upon me!"  She tried
to get out, but could not, because the door
was fast locked.  The next day, she saw marks
of blood on the floor of the room where her
father had slept, and, some days afterwards
she saw her mother washing linen stained
with blood at a brook.  Nobody dreamed of
misdoubting the truth of a story told with so
much simplicity.  Other witnesses arose, all
deposing to some new and corroborative
fact.

Catherine Lemercier, the servant who had
escaped, was arrested early in October, and
being interrogated made a full confession.
She said that, on the evening of the fifteenth
of August Madame de la Pivardière sent
everybody out of the way, even her little
daughter, whom she sent to sleep in the
garret, locking her in.  There remained in the
house only Madame de la Pivardière, herself
and Catherine Lemoins, the other servant;
but the Prior of Miseray was in the courtyard
along with two of his valets, one of
whom was armed with a sabre, the other
with a pistol.  Apparently, Madame de la
Pivardière had not full confidence in
Catherine Lemoins, for she sent her out to get some
eggs from a farm-house at a short distance.
She then went out to the prior and his
servants, and brought them into the house.
A candle having been lighted, they all
proceeded to the room where M. de la Pivardière
was sleeping.  One of the men drew aside the
curtains of the bed and, seeing that their
victim was lying in a position which rendered
it difficult to strike him, the man mounted on
a stool and fired down upon him.  The
unfortunate gentleman was only wounded,
and, starting up streaming with blood,