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Updated: May 10, 2025
What kind of band was it which had left the child behind in its flight? Were those fugitives Comprachicos? We have already seen the account of the measures taken by William III. and passed by Parliament against the malefactors, male and female, called Comprachicos, otherwise Comprapequeños, otherwise Cheylas. There are laws which disperse.
On a hill, the slopes all cultivated into an opulent vineyard, some two miles east of Cheylas, stood the low, square grey building of the Convent of Saint Francis. Thither did Monsieur de Garnache bend his horse's steps. Up the long white road that crept zigzag through the Franciscans' vineyards rode the Parisian and his servant under the welcome sunshine of that November afternoon.
We may imagine, with the uneasy feeling which a complicated scandal arouses, that probably some old duchesses were thrown in cheap. The Comprachicos were also called the Cheylas, a Hindu word, which conveys the image of harrying a nest. For a long time the Comprachicos only partially concealed themselves.
"At the time that I am writing this, Hardquanonne, who has perfect knowledge of all the facts, and participated as principal therein, is detained in the prisons of his highness the Prince of Orange, commonly called King William III. Hardquanonne was apprehended and seized as being one of the band of Comprachicos or Cheylas. He is imprisoned in the dungeon of Chatham.
"For this bright thieving beauty is not any longer yours. It is mine now, to do with as I may elect as yesterday it was the plaything of Demetrios.... Why, no! I think I shall not kill you. I have at hand three very cunning Cheylas the men who carve and reshape children into such droll monsters. They cannot change your eyes, they tell me. That is a pity, but I can have one plucked out.
Then I shall watch my Cheylas as they widen your mouth from ear to ear, take out the cartilage from your nose, wither your hair till it will always be like rotted hay, and turn your skin which is like velvet now the colour of baked mud.
A couple of hours after the engagement in the Marquis de Condillac's apartments at the Sanglier Noir at La Rochette, Monsieur de Garnache, attended only by Rabecque, rode briskly into France once more and made for the little town of Cheylas, which is on the road that leads down to the valley of the Isere and to Condillac. But not as far as the township did he journey.
At the hour at which Monsieur de Garnache was seeking to persuade the Abbot of Saint Francis of Cheylas to adopt a point of view more kindly towards a dead man, Madame de Condillac was at dinner, and with her was Valerie de La Vauvraye. Neither woman ate appreciably.
From the heights she looked eastwards, shading her eyes from the light of the morning sun, and surveyed the procession which with slow dignity paced down the valley towards Condillac. At its head walked the tall, lean figure of the Abbot of Saint Francis of Cheylas, bearing on high a silvered crucifix that flashed and scintillated in the sunlight.
"The monks of Saint Francis of Cheylas," he answered. A something in his tone, a something in his shifty eyes, a cloud upon his fair and usually so ingenuous looking countenance aroused her suspicions and gave her resurrected courage pause. She caught him viciously by the arms, and forced his glance to meet her own in the fading daylight.
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