separately, and under the guard of his men, the justice and the
mayor returned to the park. "With all this," muttered M. Courtois,
"no traces of the count."

They proceeded to take up the body of the countess. The mayor sent
for two planks, which, with a thousand precautions, they placed on
the ground, being able thus to move the countess without effacing
the imprints necessary for the legal examination. Alas! it was
indeed she who had been the beautiful, the charming Countess de
Tremorel! Here were her smiling face, her lovely, speaking eyes,
her fine, sensitive mouth.

There remained nothing of her former self. The face was
unrecognizable, so soiled and wounded was it. Her clothes were in
tatters. Surely a furious frenzy had moved the monsters who had
slain the poor lady! She had received more than twenty
knife-wounds, and must have been struck with a stick, or rather
with a hammer; she had been dragged by her feet and by her hair!

In her left hand she grasped a strip of common cloth, torn,
doubtless, from the clothes of one of the assassins. The mayor,
in viewing the spectacle, felt his legs fail him, and supported
himself on the arm of the impassible Plantat.

"Let us carry her to the house," said the justice, "and then we
will search for the count."

The valet and brigadier (who had now returned) called on the
domestics for assistance. The women rushed into the garden.
There was then a terrible concert of cries, lamentations, and