THE CLIQUE OF GOLD

BY

EMILE GABORIAU

THE CLIQUE OF GOLD

I. 

There is not in all Paris a house better kept or more inviting-lookingthan No. 23 in Grange Street. As soon as you enter, you are struck by aminute, extreme neatness, which reminds you of Holland, and almost setsyou a-laughing. The neighbors might use the brass plate on the door as amirror to shave in; the stone floor is polished till it shines; and thewoodwork of the staircase is varnished to perfection. 

In the entrance-hall a number of notices, written in the peculiarstyle which owners of houses affect, request the tenants to respect theproperty of others, without regard to the high price they pay for theirshare. "Clean your feet, if you please, " they say to all who come in orgo out. "No spitting allowed on the stairs. " "Dogs are not allowed inthe house. "

Nevertheless, this admirably-kept house "enjoyed" but a sorry reputationin the neighborhood. Was it worse than other houses, --No. 21, forinstance, or No. 25? Probably not; but there is a fate for houses aswell as for men. 

The first story was occupied by the families of two independentgentlemen, whose simplicity of mind was only equalled by that of theirmode of life. A collector, who occasionally acted as broker, lived inthe second story, and had his offices there. The third story was rentedto a very rich man, a baron as people said, who only appeared there atlong intervals, preferring, according to his own account, to live onhis estates near Saintonge. The whole fourth story was occupied by aman familiarly known as Papa Ravinet, although he was barely fifty yearsold. He dealt in second-hand merchandise, furniture, curiosities, andtoilet articles; and his rooms were filled to overflowing with a medleycollection of things which he was in the habit of buying at auctions. The fifth story, finally, was cut up in numerous small rooms andclosets, which were occupied by poor families or clerks, who, almostwithout exception, disappeared early in the morning, and returned onlyas late as possible at night. 

An addition to the house in the rear had its own staircase, and wasprobably in the hands of still humbler tenants; but then it is sodifficult to rent out small lodgings!

However this may have been, the house had a bad reputation; and thelodgers had to bear the consequences. Not one of them would have beentrusted with a dollar's worth of goods in any of the neighboring shops. No one, however, stood, rightly or wrongly, in as bad repute as thedoorkeeper, or concierge, who lived in a little hole near the greatdouble entrance-door, and watched over the safety of the whole house. Master Chevassat and his wife were severely "cut" by their colleaguesof adjoining houses; and the most atrocious stories were told of bothhusband and wife. 

Master Chevassat was reputed to be well off; but the story went thathe lent out money, and did not hesitate to charge a hundred per centa month. He acted, besides, it was said, as agent for two of histenants, --the broker, and the dealer in second-hand goods, and undertookthe executions, when poor debtors were unable to pay. Mrs. Chevassat, however, had even graver charges to bear. People said she would doanything for money, and had aided and encouraged many a poor girl in thehouse in her evil career. 

It was also asserted that the estimable couple had formerly lived in thefashionable Faubourg St. Honore, but had been compelled to leave thereon account of several ugly occurrences. They were, finally, reported tohave a son called Justin, a handsome fellow, thirty-five years old, wholived in the best society, and whom they nearly worshipped; while he wasashamed of them, and despised them, although he came often at night toask them for money. No one, it must, however, be confessed, had everseen this son; and no one knew him. 

The two Chevassats shrugged their shoulders, and said it would be absurdif they should trouble themselves about public opinion, as long as theirconsciences were clear, and they owed nobody anything. 

Towards the end of last December, however, on a Saturday afternoon, towards five o'clock, husband and wife were just sitting down to dinner, when the dealer in old clothes, Papa Ravinet, rushed like a tempest intotheir room. 

He was a man of middle size, clean shaven, with small, bright, yellowisheyes, which shone with restless eagerness from under thick, bushy brows. Although he had lived for years in Paris, he was dressed like a man fromthe country, wearing a flowered silk vest, and a long frock-coat with animmense collar. 

"Quick, Chevassat!" he cried, with a voice full of trouble. "Take yourlamp, and follow me; an accident has happened upstairs. "

He was so seriously disturbed, although generally very calm and cool, that the two Chevassats were thoroughly frightened. 

"An accident!" exclaimed the woman; "that was all that was wanting. Butpray, what has happened, dear M. Ravinet?"

"How do I know? This very moment, as I was just coming out of my room, Ithought I heard the death-rattle of a dying person. It was in the fifthstory. Of course I ran up a few steps, I listened. All was silent. Iwent down again, thinking I had been mistaken; and at once I heard againa sighing, a sobbing--I can't tell you exactly what; but it soundedexactly like the last sigh of a person in agony, and at the point ofdeath. "

"And then?"

"Then I ran down to tell you, and ask you to come up. I am not sure, you understand; but I think I could swear it was the voice of MissHenrietta, --that pretty young girl who lives up there. Well, are youcoming?"

But they did not stir. 

"Miss Henrietta is not in her room, " said Mrs. Chevassat coldly. "Shewent out just now, and told me she would not be back till nine o'clock. My dear M. Ravinet, you must have been mistaken; you had a ringing inyour ears, or"--

"No, I am sure I was not mistaken! But never mind; we must see what itis. "

During this conversation, the door of the room had been open; andseveral of the lodgers, hearing the voice of the merchant and theexclamations of the woman as they crossed the hall, had stopped andlistened. 

"Yes, we must see what it is, " they repeated. 

Master Chevassat dared no longer oppose the general desire soperemptorily expressed, --

"Let us go then, since you will have it _so_, " he sighed. 

And, taking up his lamp, he began to ascend the stairs, followed by themerchant, his wife, and five or six other persons. 

The steps of all these people were heard all over the house; and fromstory to story the lodgers opened their doors to see what was going on. And, when they heard that something was likely to happen, they almostall left their rooms, and followed the others. 

So that Master Chevassat had nearly a dozen curious persons behind him, when he stopped on the fifth floor to take breath. 

The door to Miss Henrietta's room was the first on the left in thepassage. He knocked at first gently, then harder, and at last with allhis energy, till his heavy fists shook the thin partition-walls of allthe rooms. 

Between each blow he cried, --

"Miss Henrietta, Miss Henrietta, they want you!"

No reply came. 

"Well!" he said triumphantly, "you see!"

But, whilst the man was knocking at the door, M. Ravinet had knelt down, and tried to open the door a little, putting now his eye, and now hisear, to the keyhole and to the slight opening between the door and theframe. 

Suddenly he rose deadly pale. 

"It is all over; we are too late!"

And, as the neighbors expressed some doubts, he cried furiously, --

"Have you no noses? Don't you smell that abominable charcoal?"

Everybody tried to perceive the odor; and soon all agreed that he wasright. As the door had given way a little, the passage had graduallybecome filled with a sickening vapor. 

The people shuddered; and a woman's voice exclaimed, --

"She has killed herself!"

As it happens strangely enough, but too frequently, in such cases, allhesitated. 

"I am going for the police, " said at last Master Chevassat. 

"That's right!" replied the merchant. "Now there is, perhaps, a chanceyet to save the poor girl; and, when you come back, it will of course betoo late. "

"What's to be done, then?"

"Break in the door. "

"I dare not. "

"Well, I will. "

The kind-hearted man put his shoulder to the worm-eaten door, and in amoment the lock gave way. The bystanders shrank instinctively back; theywere frightened. The door was wide open, and masses of vapors rolledout. Soon, however, curiosity triumphed over fear. No one doubted anylonger that the poor girl was lying in there dead; and each one triedhis best to see where she was. 

In vain. The feeble light of the lamp had gone out in the foul air; andthe darkness was frightful. 

Nothing could be seen but the reddish glow of the charcoal, which wasslowly going out under a little heap of white ashes in two small stoves. No one ventured to enter. 

But Papa Ravinet had not gone so far to stop now, and remain in thepassage. 

"Where is the window?" he asked the concierge. 

"On the right there. "

"Very well; I'll open it. "

And boldly the strange man plunged into the dark room; and almostinstantly the noise of breaking glass was heard. A moment later, and theair in the room had become once more fit for breathing, and everybodyrushed in. 

Alas! it was the death-rattle which M. Ravinet had heard. 

On the bed, on a thin mattress, without blankets or bedclothes, lay ayoung girl about twenty years old, dressed in a wretched black merinodress, stretched out at full-length, stiff, lifeless. 

The women sobbed aloud. 

"To die so young!" they said over and over again, "and to die thus. "

In the meantime the merchant had gone up to the bed, and examined thepoor girl. 

"She is not dead yet!" he cried. "No, she cannot be dead! Come, ladies, come here and help the poor child, till the doctor comes. "

And then, with strange self-possession, he told them what to do for thepurpose of recalling her to life. 

"Give her air, " he said, "plenty of air; try to get some air into herlungs. Cut open her dress; pour some vinegar on her face; rub her withsome woollen stuff. "

He issued his orders, and they obeyed him readily, although they had nohope of success. 

"Poor child!" said one of the women. "No doubt she was crossed in love. "

"Or she was starving, " whispered another. 

There was no doubt that poverty, extreme poverty, had ruled in thatmiserable chamber: the traces were easily seen all around. The wholefurniture consisted of a bed, a chest of drawers, and two chairs. Therewere no curtains at the window, no dresses in the trunk, not a ribbonin the drawers. Evidently everything that could be sold had been sold, piece by piece, little by little. The mattresses had followed thedresses, --first the wool, handful by handful, then the covering. 

Too proud to complain, and cut off from society by bashfulness, the poorgirl who was lying there had evidently gone through all the stages ofsuffering which the shipwrecked mariner endures, who floats, resting ona stray spar in the great ocean. 

Papa Ravinet was thinking of all this, when a paper lying on the bureauattracted his eye. He took it up. It was the last will of the poor girl, and ran thus:--

"Let no one be accused; I die voluntarily. I beg Mrs. Chevassat willcarry the two letters which I enclose to their addresses. She will bepaid whatever I may owe her. Henrietta. "

There were the two letters. On the first he read, --

Count Ville-Handry, Rue de Varennest 115. And, on the other, --

M. Maxime de Brevan, 62 Rue Laffitte. 

A sudden light seemed to brighten up the small yellowish eye of thedealer in old clothes; a wicked smile played on his lips; and he uttereda very peculiar, "Ah!"

But all this passed away in a moment. 

His brow grew as dark as ever; and he looked around anxiously andsuspiciously to see if anybody had caught the impression produced uponhim by the letters. 

No, nobody had noticed him, nobody was thinking of him; for everybodywas occupied with Miss Henrietta. 

Thereupon he slipped the paper and the two letters into the vast pocketof his huge frock-coat with a dexterity and a rapidity which would haveexcited the envy of an accomplished pickpocket. It was high time;for the women who were bending over the bed of the young girl wereexhibiting signs of intense excitement. One of them said she was surethe body had trembled under her hand, and the others insisted upon itthat she was mistaken. The matter was soon to be decided, however. 

After, perhaps, twenty seconds of unspeakable anguish, during which allheld their breath, and solemn stillness reigned in the room, a cry ofhope and joy broke forth suddenly. 

"_She_ has trembled, she has moved!"

This time there was no doubt, no denial possible. The unfortunate girlhad certainly moved, very faintly and feebly; but still she had stirred. 

A slight color returned to her pallid cheeks; her bosom rose painfully, and sank again; her teeth, closely shut, opened; and with partedlips she stretched forth her neck as if to draw in the fresh airinstinctively. 

"She is alive!" exclaimed the women, almost frightened, and as if theyhad seen a miracle performed, --"she is alive!"

In an instant, M. Ravinet was by her side. 

One of the women, the wife of the gentleman in the first story, held thehead of the girl on her arm, and the poor child looked around with thatblank, unmeaning eye which we see in mad-houses. They spoke to her; butshe did not answer; evidently she did not hear. 

"Never mind!" said the merchant, "she is saved; and, _when_ the doctorcomes, he will have little else to do. But she must be attended to, thepoor child, and we cannot leave her here alone. "

The bystanders knew very well what that meant; and yet hardly any oneventured timidly to assent, and say, "Oh, of course!"

This reluctance did not deter the good man. 

"We must put her to bed, " he went on; "and, of course, she must have amattress, bedclothes and blankets. We want wood also (for it is terriblycold here), and sugar for her tea, and a candle. "

He did not mention all that was needed, but nearly so, and a great dealtoo much for the people who stood by. As a proof of this, the wifeof the broker put grandly a five-franc piece on the mantlepiece, andquietly slipped out. Some of the others followed her example; but theyleft nothing. When Papa Ravinet had finished his little speech, therewas nobody left but the two ladies who lived on the first floor, and theconcierge and his wife. The two ladies, moreover, looked at each otherin great embarrassment, as if they did not know what their curiositymight cost them. Had the shrewd man foreseen this noble abandonment ofthe poor girl? One would have fancied so; for he smiled bitterly, andsaid, --

"Excellent hearts--pshaw!"

Then, shrugging his shoulders, he added, --

"Luckily, I deal in all possible things. Wait a minute. I'll run downstairs, and I'll be back in a moment with all that is needed. Afterthat, we shall see what can be done. "

The face of the concierge's wife was a picture. Never in her life hadshe been so much astonished. 

"They have changed Papa Ravinet, or I am mad. "

The fact is, that the man was not exactly considered a benevolent andgenerous mortal. They told stories of him that would have made Harpagonenvious, and touched the heart of a constable. 

Nevertheless, he re-appeared soon after, almost succumbing under theweight of two excellent mattresses; and, when he came back a secondtime, he brought much more than he had mentioned. 

Miss Henrietta was breathing more freely, but her face was stillpainfully rigid. Life had come back before the mind had recovered; andit was evident that she was utterly unconscious of her situation, and ofwhat was going on around her. This troubled the two ladies not a little, although they felt very much relieved, and disposed to do everything, now that they were no longer expected to open their purses. 

"Well, that is always the way, " said Papa Ravinet boldly. "However, thedoctor will bleed her, if there is any necessity. "

And, turning to Master Chevassat, he added, --

"But we are in the way of these ladies; suppose we go down and takesomething? We can come back when the child is comfortably put to bed. "

The good man lived, to tell the truth, in the same rooms in which thethousand and one things he was continually buying were piled up in vastheaps. There was no fixed place for his bed even. He slept where hecould, or, rather, wherever an accidental sale had cleared a space forthe time, --one night in a costly bed of the days of Louis XIV. , and thenext night on a lounge that he would have sold for a few francs. Justnow he occupied a little closet not more than three-quarters full; andhere he asked the concierge to enter. 

He poured some brandy into two small wineglasses, put a teakettle on thefire, and sank into an arm-chair; then he said, --

"Well, M. Chevassat, what a terrible thing this is!"

His visitor had been well drilled by his wife, and said neither yes norno; but the old merchant was a man of experience, and knew how to loosenhis tongue. 

"The most disagreeable thing about it, " he said with an absent air, "is, that the doctor will report the matter to the police, and there will bean investigation. "

Master Chevassat nearly dropped his glass. 

"What? The police in the house? Well, good-by, then, to our lodgers; weare lost. Why did that stupid girl want to die, I wonder! But no doubtyou are mistaken, my dear sir. "

"No, I am not. But you go too fast. They will simply ask you who thatgirl is, how she supports herself, and where she lived before she camehere. "

"That is exactly what I cannot tell. "

The dealer in old clothes seemed to be amazed; he frowned and said, --

"Halloo! that makes matters worse. How came it about that Miss Henriettahad rooms in your house?"

The concierge was evidently ill at ease; something was troubling himsorely. 

"Oh! that is as clear as sunlight, " he replied; "and, if you wish it, I'll tell you the story; you will see there is no harm done. "

"Well, let us hear. "

"Well, then, it was about a year ago this very day, when a gentlemancame in, well dressed, an eyeglass stuck in his eye, impudent like ahangman's assistant, in fact a thoroughly fashionable young man. He saidhe had seen the notice that there was a room for rent up stairs, andwanted to see it. Of course I told him it was a wretched garret, unfitfor people like him; but he insisted, and _I_ took him up. "

"To the room in which Miss Henrietta is now staying?"

"Exactly. I thought he would be disgusted; but no. He looked out of thewindow, tried the door if it would shut, examined the partition-wall, and at last he said, 'This suits me; I take the room. ' And thereupon hehands me a twenty-franc piece to make it a bargain. I was amazed. "

If M. Ravinet felt any interest in the story, he took pains not to showit; for his eyes wandered to and fro as if his thoughts were elsewhere, and he was heartily tired of the tedious account. 

"And who is that fashionable young man?" he asked. 

"Ah! that is more than I know, except that his name is Maxime. "

That name made the old merchant jump as if a shower-bath had suddenlyfallen upon his head. He changed color; and his small yellowish eyes hada strange look in them. 

But he recovered promptly, so promptly, that his visitor saw nothing;and then he said in a tone of indifference, --

"The young man did not give you his family name?"

"No. "

"But ought you not to have inquired?"

"Ah, there is the trouble! I did not do it. "

Gradually, and by a great effort, Master Chevassat began to masterhis embarrassment. It looked as if he were preparing himself for theassault, and to get ready for the police-officer. 

"I know it was wrong, " he continued; "but you would not have acteddifferently in my place, my dear sir, I am sure. Just think! My roombelonged to M. Maxime, for I had his money in my pocket. I asked himpolitely where he lived, and if there was any furniture to come. Icaught it nicely. He laughed me in the face, and did not even let mefinish my question. 'Do I look, ' he said, 'like a man who lives in aplace like this?' And when he saw I was puzzled, he went on to tell methat he took the room for a young person from the country, in whom hetook an interest, and that the contract and the receipts for rent mustall be made out in the name of Miss Henrietta. That was clear enough, wasn't it? Still it was my duty to know who Miss Henrietta was; so Iasked him civilly. But he got angry, and told me that was none of mybusiness, and that some furniture would be sent presently. "

He stopped, waiting for his host to express his approbation by a word ora sign; but, as nothing came, he went on, --

"In fine, I did not dare to insist, and all was done as he wanted itdone. That very day a dealer in second-hand furniture brought the piecesyou have seen up stairs; and the day after, about eleven o'clock, MissHenrietta herself appeared. She had not much baggage, I tell you; shebrought every thing she owned in a little carpet-bag in her hand. "

The old merchant was stooping over the fire as if his whole attentionwas given to the teakettle, in which the water was beginning to boil. 

"It seems to me, my good friend, " he said, "that you did not act verywisely. Still, if that is really all, I don't think they are likely totrouble you. "

"What else could there be?"

"How do I know? But if that young damsel had been carried off by M. Maxime, if you were lending a hand in an elopement, I think you wouldbe in a bad box. The law is pretty strict about it, in the case of aminor. "

The concierge protested with a solemn air. 

"I have told you the whole truth, " he declared. 

But Papa Ravinet did not by any means seem so sure of that. 

"That is your lookout, " he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Still, youmay be sure they will ask you how it could happen that one of yourtenants should fall into such a state of abject poverty without yourgiving notice to anybody. "

"Why, in the first place, I do not wait upon my lodgers. They are freeto do what they choose in their rooms. "

"Quite right, Master Chevassat! quite right! So you did not know that M. Maxime no longer came to see Miss Henrietta?"

"He still came to see her. "

In the most natural manner in the world, Papa Ravinet raised his arms toheaven, and exclaimed as if horror-struck, --

"What! is it possible? That handsome young man knew how the poor girlsuffered? he knew that she was dying of hunger?"

Master Chevassat became more and more troubled. He began to see what theold merchant meant by his questions, and how unsatisfactory his answerswere. 

"Ah! you ask too many questions, " he said at last. "It was not my dutyto watch over M. Maxime. As for Miss Henrietta, as soon as she is ableto move, the serpent! I tell you I'll send her off pretty quickly!"

The old merchant shook his head, and said in his softest voice, --

"My dear sir, you won't do that, because from today I'll pay the rentfor her room. And, more than that, if you wish to oblige me, you willbe very kind to the poor girl, you hear, and even respectful, if youplease. "

There was no misunderstanding the meaning of the word "oblige, " from themanner in which he pronounced it; and yet he was about to enforce therecommendation, when a fretting voice exclaimed on the stairs, --

"Chevassat! where are you, Chevassat?"

"It's my wife, " said the concierge. 

And, delighted to get away, he said to Papa Ravinet--

"I understand; she shall be treated as politely as if she were thedaughter of the owner of the house. But excuse me, I must attend to thedoor; they call me, and I must go down stairs. "

He slipped out without waiting for an answer, and utterly unable toguess why the old merchant should take such a sudden interest in thelodger on the fifth floor. 

"The rascal!" said Papa Ravinet to himself, --"the rascal!"

But he had found out what he wanted to know. He was alone, and he knewhe had no time to lose. 

Quickly he drew the teakettle from the fire; and, pulling out MissHenrietta's two letters, he held the one that was addressed to M. Maximede Brevan over the steam of the boiling water. In a moment the mucilageof the envelope was dissolved, and the letter could easily be openedwithout showing in any way that it had ever been broken open. And nowthe old man read the following words:--

"You are victorious, M. De Brevan. When you read this, I shall be nolonger alive. 

"You may raise your head again; you are relieved of all fears. Danielcan come back. I shall carry the secret of your infamy and yourcowardice into the grave with me. 

"And yet, no!

"I can pardon you, having but a few moments longer to live; but Godwill not pardon you. I--I shall be avenged. And, if it should require amiracle, that miracle will be done, so as to inform that honorable manwho thought you were his friend, how and why the poor girl died whom hehad intrusted to your honor. H. "

The old man was furious. 

"The honor of Maxime de Brevan!" he growled with a voice of intensehatred, --"the honor of Maxime de Brevan!"

But his terrible excitement did not keep him from manipulating theother letter, addressed to Count Ville-Handry, in the same manner. Theoperation was successful; and, without the slightest hesitation, heread:--

"Dear father, --Broken down with anxiety, and faint from exhaustion, Ihave waited till this morning for an answer to my humble letter, which Ihad written to you on my knees. 

"You have never replied to it; you are inexorable. I see I must die. Ishall die. Alas! I can hardly say I die willingly. 

"I must appear very guilty in your eyes, father, that you should abandonme thus to the hatred of Sarah Brandon and her people. And yet--ah! Ihave suffered terribly. I have struggled hard before I could make up mymind to leave your house, --the house where my mother had died, where Ihad been so happy, and so tenderly beloved as a child by both of you. Ah, if you but knew!

"And yet it was so little I asked of you!--barely enough to bury myundeserved disgrace in a convent. 

"Yes, undeserved, father; for I tell you at this hour, when no oneutters a falsehood, if my reputation was lost, my honor was not lost. "

Big tears rolled down the cheeks of the old man; and he said in ahalf-stifled voice, --

"Poor, poor child! And to think that for a whole year I have lived underthe same roof with her, without knowing it. But I am here. I am still intime. Oh, what a friend _chance_ can be when it chooses!"

Most assuredly not one of the inmates of the house would have recognizedPapa Ravinet at this moment; he was literally transfigured. He was nolonger the cunning dealer in second-hand articles, the old scamp withthe sharp, vulgar face, so well known at all public sales, where he satin the front rank, watching for good bargains, and keeping cool when allaround him were in a state of fervent excitement. 

The two letters he had just read had opened anew in his heart more thanone badly-healed and badly-scarred wound. He was suffering intensely;and his pain, his wrath, and his hope of vengeance long delayed, gaveto his features a strange expression of energy and nobility. Withhis elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands, and lookingapparently into the far past, he seemed to call up the miseries of thepast, and to trace out in the future the vague outlines of some greatscheme. And as his thoughts began to overflow, so to say, he broke outin a strange, spasmodic monologue, --

"Yes, " he murmured, "yes, I recognize you, Sarah Brandon! Poor child, poor child! Overcome by such horrible intrigues! And that Daniel, whointrusted her to the care of Maxime de Brevan--who is he? Why did shenot write to him when she suffered thus? Ah, if she had trusted me! Whata sad fate! And how can I ever hope to make her confide in _me_?"

An old clock struck seven, and the merchant was suddenly recalled to thepresent; he trembled in all his limbs. 

"Nonsense!" he growled. "I was falling asleep; and that is what I cannotafford to do. I must go up stairs, and hear the child's confession. "

Instantly, and with amazing dexterity, he replaced the letters in theirenvelopes, dried them, pasted them up again, and smoothed them down, till every trace of the steam had entirely disappeared. Then looking athis work with an air of satisfaction, he said, --

"That was not so badly done. An expert in the post-office would notsuspect it. I may risk it. "

And, thus re-assured, he rapidly mounted up to the fifth story; butthere Mrs. Chevassat suddenly barred his way, coming down stairs in amanner which showed clearly that she had lain in wait for him. 

"Well, my dear sir, " she said with her sweetest manner: "so you havebecome Miss Henrietta's banker?"

"Yes; do you object to it?"

"Oh, not at all! It is none of my business, only"--

She stopped, smiling wickedly, and then added, --

"Only she is a prodigiously pretty girl; and I was just saying tomyself, 'Upon my word, M. Ravinet's taste is not bad. '"

The merchant was on the point of giving her a pretty sharp, indignantreply; but he controlled himself, because he knew how important it wasto mislead the woman; and, forcing himself to smile, he said, --

"You know I count upon your being discreet. "

When he got up, he found that he ought, at least, to give credit toMamma Chevassat and the two ladies from the first floor, for havingemployed their time well, and for having skilfully made use of thearticles he had contributed. The room, a short time ago cold and bare, had an air of comfort about it now, which was delightful. On thebureau stood a lamp with a shade to prevent the light from hurting thepatient's eyes; a bright fire blazed on the hearth; several old curtainshad been hung before the window, one before the other, to replace forthe time the missing panes; and on the table stood a teakettle, a chinacup, and two small medicine-bottles. 

Evidently the doctor had been here during Ravinet's absence. He hadbled the poor girl, prescribed some medicines, and left again, with theassurance that nothing more was needed but perfect quiet. 

In fact, there was no trace left of the sufferings and the terribledanger from which the patient had so marvellously escaped, except thedeep pallor of her face. Stretched out at full-length on her comfortablebed with its thick mattresses and snow-white sheets, her head proppedup high on a couple of pillows, she was breathing freely, as was easilyseen by the steady, regular rising and falling of her bosom under thecover. 

But life and consciousness had also brought back to her a sense of thehorror of her position, and of her capacity for suffering. 

Her brow resting on her arm, which was almost concealed by masses ofgolden hair, immovable, and her eyes fixed steadily upon infinite space, as if trying to pierce the darkness of the future, she would have lookedlike a statue of sorrow rather than of resignation, but for the bigtears which were slowly dropping down her cheeks. 

Her exquisite beauty looked almost ethereal under the circumstances; andPapa Ravinet, when he saw her, remained fixed by admiration, standingupon the threshold of the open door. But it occurred to him at once thathe might be looked upon as a spy, and that his feelings would be sureto be misinterpreted. He coughed, therefore, to give warning, and thenstepped in. 

At the noise he made, Henrietta roused herself. When she saw the oldmerchant, she said in a faint, feeble voice, --

"Ah! it is you, sir. These kind ladies have told me all. You have savedmy life. " Then, shaking her head, she added, --

"You have rendered me a sad service, sir. "

She uttered these words so simply, but in a tone of such harrowinggrief, that Papa Ravinet was overcome. 

"Unhappy child!" he exclaimed, "you do not think of trying it overagain?"

She made no answer. It was as good as if she had said, Yes. 

"Why, you must be mad!" said the old man, excited almost beyond control. "Only twenty years old, and give up life! That has never been donebefore. You are suffering now; but you can hardly imagine whatcompensation Providence may have in store for you hereafter"--

She interrupted him by a gesture, and said, --

"There was no future for me, sir, when I sought refuge in death. "

"But"--

"Oh, don't try to convince me, sir! What I did, I had to do. I felt howlife was leaving me, and I only wished to shorten the agony. I had noteaten any thing for three days when I lit that charcoal. Even to get thecharcoal, I had to risk a falsehood, and cheat the woman who let me haveit in credit. And yet God knows I was not wanting in courage. I wouldhave done the coarsest, hardest work cheerfully, joyously. But how didI know how to get work? I asked Mrs. Chevassat a hundred times to obtainemployment for me; but she always laughed at me; and, when I beggedhard, she said"--

She stopped; and her face became crimson with shame. She dared notrepeat what the wife of the concierge had said. But she added in a voicetrembling with womanly shame and deep indignation, --

"Ah, that woman is a wicked creature!"

The old merchant was probably fully aware of the character of Mrs. Chevassat. He guessed only too readily what kind of advice she had giventhis poor girl of twenty, who had turned to her for help in her greatsuffering. He uttered an oath which would have startled even thatestimable woman, and then said warmly, --

"I understand, Miss Henrietta, I understand. Do you think I don't knowwhat you must have suffered? I know poverty, as well as you. I canunderstand your purpose but too well. Who would not give up life itselfwhen everybody abandons us? But I do not understand your despair, nowthat circumstances have changed. "

"Alas, sir, how have they changed?"

"How? What do you mean? Don't you see me? Do you think I would leaveyou, after having been just in time to save your life? That would benice! No, my dear child, compose yourself; poverty shall not come nearyou again, I'll see to that. You want somebody to advise you, to defendyou; and here I am; if you have enemies, let them beware! Come, smileagain, and think of the good times a-coming. "

But she did not smile; she looked frightened, almost stupefied. Makinga supreme effort, she looked fixedly at the old man to see if she couldread in his face what were his real thoughts. He, on his part, wasseriously troubled by his failure to inspire her with confidence. 

"Do you doubt my promises?" he asked her. 

She shook her head; and uttering her words one by one, as if to givethem greater weight, she said, --

"I beg your pardon, sir. I do not doubt you. But I cannot understand whyyou should offer me your kind protection. "

Papa Ravinet affected a greater surprise than he really felt, and said, raising his hands to heaven, --

"Great God! she mistrusts my good will. "

"Sir!"

"Pray what can you have to fear from me? I am an old man; you are almosta child. I come to help you. Is not that perfectly natural, and quitesimple?"

She said nothing; and he remained a few moments buried in thought, as iftrying to find out her motive for refusing his help. Suddenly he criedout, beating his forehead, --

"Ah, I have it. That woman Chevassat has talked to you about me, nodoubt. Ah, the viper! I'll crush her one of these days! Come, let us befrank; what has she told you?"

He hoped she would say a word at least. He waited; but nothing came. 

Then he broke forth, with a vehemence scarcely controlled, and in wordsvery unexpected from a man like him, --

"Well, I will tell you what the old thief has told you. She told youPapa Ravinet was a dangerous, ill-reputed man, who carried on in thedark all kind of suspicious trades. She told you the old scamp was ausurer, who knew no law, and kept no promise; whose only principle wasprofit; who dealt in every thing with everybody, selling to-day old ironin junk-shops, and to-morrow cashmere shawls to fashionable ladies; andwho lent money on imaginary securities--the talent of men and the beautyof women. In fine, she told you that it was a piece of good-fortune fora woman to be under my protection, and you knew it was a disgrace. "

He stopped, as if to give the poor girl time to form her judgment, andthen went on more calmly, --

"Let us suppose there is such a Papa Ravinet as she has described. Butthere is another one, whom but few people know, who has been sorelytried by misfortune; and he is the one who now offers his aid to you. "

There is no surer way to make people believe in any virtue we have, orwish to appear to have, than to accuse ourselves of bad qualities, oreven vices, which we do not have. But, if the old man had calculatedupon this policy, he failed signally. Henrietta remained as icy as ever, and said, --

"Believe me, sir, I am exceedingly obliged to you for all you have donefor me, and for your effort to convince me. "

The poor man looked disappointed. 

"In fact, you reject my offers, because I do not explain them to you byany of the usual motives. But what can I tell you? Suppose I should sayto you that I have a daughter who has secretly left me, so that I donot know what has become of her, and that her memory makes me anxiousto serve you. May I not have said to myself, that perhaps she isstruggling, just as you have done, with poverty; that she also has beenabandoned by her lover?"

The poor girl turned deadly pale as he spoke thus, and interrupted himeagerly, raising herself on her pillows, --

"You are mistaken, sir. My position here may justify such suspicions, Iknow; but I have no lover. "

He replied, --

"I believe you; I swear I believe you. But, if that is so, how did youget here? and how were you reduced to such extreme suffering?"

At last Papa Ravinet had touched the right chord. The poor girl wasdeeply moved; and the tears started in her eyes. She said in a lowvoice, --

"There are secrets which cannot be revealed. "

"Not even when life and honor depend on them?"

"Yes. "

"But"--

"Oh, pray do not insist!"

If Henrietta had known the old merchant, she would have read in his eyesthe satisfaction which he felt. A moment before he had despaired of evergaining her confidence; now he felt almost sure of success. The timeseemed to him to have come to strike a decisive blow. 

"I have tried my best to win your confidence, I confess; but it wassolely in your own interest. If it had been otherwise, do you thinkI should have asked you these questions, instead of finding out everything by simply tearing a piece of paper?"

The poor girl could not retain a cry of terror. 

"You mean my letters?"

"I have both. "

"Ah! That is why the ladies who nursed me looked for them everywhere invain. "

Instead of any other answer, he drew them from his pocket, and laid themon the bed with an air of injured innocence. To all appearances, theenvelopes had not been touched. Henrietta glanced at them, and then, holding out her hand to the old man, she said, --

"I thank you, sir!"

He did not stir; but he felt that this false evidence of honesty hadhelped him more than all his eloquence. He hastily added, --

"After all, I could not resist the temptation to read the directions, and to draw my own conclusions. Who is Count Ville-Handry? I suppose heis your father. And M. Maxime de Brevan? No doubt he is the young manwho called to see you so often. Ah, if you would but trust me! If youbut knew how a little experience of the world often helps us to overcomethe greatest difficulties!"

He was evidently deeply moved. 

"However, wait till you are perfectly well again before you come to anydecision. Consider the matter carefully. You need not tell me any thingelse but what is absolutely necessary for me to know in order to adviseyou. "

"Yes, indeed! In that way I may"--

"Well, I'll wait, why, as long as you want me to wait, --two days, tendays. "

"Very well. "

"Only, I pray you, promise me solemnly that you will give up all idea ofsuicide. "

"I promise you solemnly I will. "

Papa Ravinet's eyes shone with delight; and he exclaimed joyously, --

"Done! I'll come up again to-morrow; for, to tell the truth, I am tiredto death, and must go and lie down. "

But he told a fib; for he did not go back to his rooms. In spite ofthe wretched weather, he left the house; and, as soon as he was in thestreet, he hid himself in a dark corner, from which he could watch thefront-door of the house. He remained there a long time, exposed to windand rain, uttering now and then a low oath, and stamping with his feetto keep himself warm. At last, just as it struck eleven, a hack stoppedat No. 23. A young man got out, rang the bell, and entered. 

"He is Maxime de Brevan, " murmured the old man. Then he added in asavage voice, --

"I knew he would come, the scoundrel! to see if the charcoal had doneits work. "

But the same moment the young man came out again, and jumped into thecarriage, which quickly drove off. 

"Aha!" laughed the merchant. "No chance for you, my fine fellow! Youhave lost your game, and you'll have to try your luck elsewhere; andthis time I am on hand. I hold you fast; and, instead of one bill topay, there will be two now. "

II. 

Generally it is in novels only that unknown people suddenly take it intotheir heads to tell their whole private history, and to confide to theirneighbors even their most important and most jealously-guarded secrets. In real life things do not go quite so fast. 

Long after the old merchant had left Henrietta, she lay pondering, andundecided as to what she should do on the next day. In the first place, she asked herself who this odd man could be, who had spoken of himselfas a dangerous and suspicious person. Was he really what he appeared tobe? The girl almost doubted it. Although wholly inexperienced, she stillhad been struck by certain astounding changes in Papa Ravinet. Thus, whenever he became animated, his carriage, his gestures, and hismanners, contrasted with his country-fashioned costume, as if he had forthe moment forgotten his lesson. At the same time his language, usuallycareless and incorrect, and full of slang terms belonging to his trade, became pure and almost elegant. 

What was his business? Had he been a dealer in second-hand articlesbefore he became a tenant in No. 23 Grange Street, three years ago? Onemight very easily have imagined that Papa Ravinet (was that his realname?) had before that been in a very different position. And why not?Is not Paris the haven in which all shipwrecked sailors of society seeka refuge? Does not Paris alone offer to all wretched and guilty peoplea hiding-place, where they can begin a new life, lost and unknown in thevast multitude? What discoveries might be made there? How many persons, once brilliant lights in the great world, and then, of a sudden, soughtfor in vain by friend and foe, might be found there again, disguisedin strange costumes, and earning a livelihood in most curious ways! Whyshould not the old merchant be one of this class?

But, even if this were so, it would not have satisfactorily explainedto Henrietta the eagerness of Papa Ravinet to serve her, nor hisperseverance in offering her his advice. Was it merely from charity thathe did all this? Alas! Christian charity is not often so pressing. 

Did he know who Henrietta was? Had he at any period of her life come incontact with her? or had his interests ever been mixed up with hers? Washe anxious to make a return for some kindness shown to him? or did hecount upon some reward in the future? Who could tell?

"Would it not be the height of imprudence to put myself in the power ofthis man?" thought the poor girl. 

If, on the other hand, she rejected his offers, she fell back into thatstate of forlorn wretchedness, from which she had only been able to saveherself by suicide. 

This view was all the more urgent, as the poor child, like all personswho have been rescued from death only after having exhausted theirsufferings, now began to cling to life with an almost desperateaffection. It seemed as if the contact with death had wiped out at onceall the memory of the past, and all the threats of the future. 

"O Daniel!" she said to herself, trembling all over, --"O Daniel! my onlyfriend upon earth, what would you suffer if you knew that you lost meforever by the very means you chose to secure my safety!"

To refuse the assistance offered her by Papa Ravinet would have requiredan amount of energy which she did not possess. The voice of reflectioncontinually said to her, --

"The old man is your only hope. "

It never occurred to her to conceal the truth from Papa Ravinet, or todeceive him by a fictitious story. She only thought how she could tellhim the truth without telling him all; how she could confess enough toenable him to serve her, and yet not to betray a secret which she heldmore dear than her happiness, her reputation, and life itself. 

Unfortunately, she was the victim of one of those intrigues which areformed and carried out within the narrow circle of a family, --intriguesof the most abominable character, which people suspect, and often evenknow perfectly well, and which yet remain unpunished, because theycannot be reached by the law. 

Henrietta's father, Count Ville-Handry, was in 1845 one of thewealthiest land-owners of the province of Anjou. The good people nearRosiers and Saint Mathurin were fond of pointing out to strangers themassive towers of Ville-Handry, a magnificent castle half hid amongnoble old woods on the beautiful slopes of the bluffs which line theLoire. 

"There, " they said, "lives a true gentleman, a little too proud, perhaps, but, nevertheless, a true gentleman. "

For contrary to the usual state of things in the country, where envyis apt to engender hatred, the count was quite popular, in spite of histitle and his large fortune. He was at that time about forty years old, quite tall and good-looking, solemn and courteous, obliging, althoughreserved, and very good-natured as long as no one spoke in his presenceof the church or the reigning family, the nobility or the clergy, of hishounds or the wines of his vineyards, or of various other subjects onwhich he had what he chose to consider his "own opinions. "

As he spoke but rarely, and said little at the time, he said fewerfoolish things than most people, and thus obtained the reputation ofbeing clever and well-informed, of which he was very proud and verycareful. He lived freely, almost profusely, and thus put aside everyyear but little more than about half his income. He had all his clothesmade in Paris, was proud of his foot, and always wore gloves. 

His house was kept handsomely; and his gardens cost him a good deal ofmoney. He kept a pack of hounds, and six hunters. Finally, he kept halfa dozen lazy servants in the house, whose gorgeous liveries, withthe family coat-of-arms, were a source of perpetual wonder at SaintMathurin. 

He would have been perfect, but for his passion for hunting. 

As soon as the season opened, he was sure to be found, on foot oron horseback, crossing the stubblefields, jumping over hedges, orfloundering in the swamps. This he carried so far, that the ladies ofthe neighborhood, who had daughters, blamed him to his face forhis imprudence, and scolded him for risking his precious health sorecklessly. 

This nobleman, forty years old, and enjoying all that heart coulddesire, was unmarried. And yet he had not lacked opportunities to remedythe evil. There was not a good mother for twenty miles around who didnot covet this prize for her daughter, --thirty thousand dollars a year, and a great man. 

He had only to appear at a ball in the provincial towns, and he was thehero. Mothers and daughters kept their sweetest smiles for him; and kindwelcomes were offered on all sides. But all these manoeuvres had beenfruitless; he had escaped from all snares, and resisted the most cunningdevices. 

Why was he so much opposed to marriage? His friends found theexplanation in a certain person, half housekeeper, half companion, wholived in the castle, and was very pretty and very designing. But thereare malicious tongues everywhere. 

The next year, however, an event occurred which was calculated to givesome ground to these idle, gossiping tales. One fine morning in themonth of July, 1847, the lady died suddenly of apoplexy. Six weekslater, a report began to spread that Count Ville-Handry was going to bemarried. 

The report was well founded. The count did marry. The fact could notbe doubted any longer, when the banns were read, and the announcementappeared in the official journal. And whom do you think he married?The daughter of a poor widow, the Baroness Rupert, who lived in greatpoverty at a place called Rosiers, having nothing but a small pensionderived from her husband, who had been a colonel of artillery. 

If she had, at least, been of good and ancient family; if she had been, at least, a native of the province!

But no. No one knew exactly who she was, or where she came from. Somepeople said the colonel had married her in Austria; others, in Sweden. Her husband, they added, had been made a baron after the fashion ofothers, who dubbed themselves such during the first empire, and had noright to call himself noble. 

On the other hand, Pauline de Rupert, then twenty-three years old, wasin the full bloom of youth, and marvellously beautiful. Moreover, shehad, up to this time, been looked upon as a sensible, modest girl, verybright and very sweet withal; in fact, possessed of every quality andvirtue that can make life happy, and add to the fame of a great house. 

But now, not a cent, no dower, not even a trousseau!

Everybody was amazed; and a perfect storm of indignation arose in theneighborhood. Was it possible, was it natural, that a great noblemanlike the count should end thus miserably, ridiculously? that he shouldmarry a penniless girl, an adventuress, --he who had had the pick andchoice of the richest and greatest ladies of the land?

Was Count Ville-Handry a fool? or was he only insane about Miss Rupert?Was she not perhaps, after all, a designing hypocrite, who had veryquietly, in her retired home, woven the net in which the lion of Anjouwas now held captive?

People would have been less astonished, if they had known, that, foryears, a great intimacy had existed between the mother of the bride andthe housekeeper at the castle. But, on the other hand, this fact mighthave led to very different surmises still. 

However that might be, the count was not suffered long to remain indoubt as to the entire change of opinion in the neighborhood. He saw itas soon as he paid the usual visits in the town of Angers, and at thehouses of the nobility near him. No more affectionate smiles, no tenderwelcomes, no little white hands stealthily seeking his. The doors thatformerly seemed to fly open at his mere approach now turned but slowlyon their hinges; some remained even closed, the owners being reportednot at home, although the count knew perfectly well that they were in. 

One very noble and very pious old lady, who gave the keynote to society, had said in the most decided manner, --

"For my part, I shall never receive at my house a damsel who used togive music-lessons to my nieces, even if she had caught and entrapped aBourbon!"

The charge was true. Pauline, in order to provide her mother with someof the comforts which are almost indispensable to old people, had givenlessons on the piano in the neighborhood. Her terms had been low enough;now they blamed her for the sacrifice. They would have blamed her forthe noblest of virtues; for all the blame was laid upon her. When peoplemet her, they looked away, so as not to have to bow to her. Even whenshe was leaning on the count's arm, there were persons who spoke verykindly to him, and did not say a word to his wife, as if they had notseen her, or she had not existed at all. This impertinence went so far, that at last Count Ville-Handry, one day, almost beside himself withanger, seized one of his neighbors by the collar of his coat, shook himviolently, and shouted out to him, --

"Do you see the countess, my wife, sir? How shall I chastise you to cureyou of your near-sightedness?"

Foreseeing a duel, the impertinent man made his excuses; and hisexperience put the rest of them on their guard. But their opinionsremained unchanged; open war only changed into secret opposition, thatwas all. 

Fate, however, always more kind than man, held a reward in store forCount Ville-Handry, which amply repaid him for his heroism in marryinga poor girl. An uncle of his wife's, a banker at Dresden, died, andleft his "beloved niece Pauline" half a million dollars. This immenselywealthy man, who had never assisted his sister in her troubles, and whowould have disinherited the daughter of a soldier of fortune, had beenflattered by the idea of writing in his last will the name of his niece, the "high and mighty Countess Ville-Handry. "

This unexpected piece of good-fortune ought to have delighted theyoung wife. She might now have had her vengeance on all her miserableslanderers, and enjoyed a boundless popularity. But far from it. She hadnever appeared more sad than on the day when the great news reached her. 

For on that very day she for the first time cursed her marriage. Avoice within her warned her that she ought never to have yielded to theentreaties and the orders of her mother. An excellent daughter, as shewas to become the best of mothers, and the most faithful of wives, shehad sacrificed herself. And now an accident made all her sacrificesuseless, and punished her for having done her duty. 

Ah, why had she not resisted, at least for the purpose of gaining time?

For when she was a girl she had dreamed of a very different future. Longbefore giving herself to the count, she had, of her own free will, givenher heart to another. She had bestowed her first and warmest affectionsupon a young man who was only two or three years older than she, --PeterChampcey, the son of one of those marvellously rich farmers who live inthe valley of the Loire. 

He worshipped her. Unfortunately one obstacle had risen between themfrom the beginning, --Pauline's poverty. It could not be expected thatthose keen, thrifty peasants, Champcey's father and mother, would everpermit one of their sons--they had two--to commit the folly of making alove-match. 

They had worked hard for their children. The oldest, Peter, was to be alawyer; the other, Daniel, who wanted to become a sailor, was studyingday and night to prepare for his examination. And the old couple werenot a little proud of these "gentlemen, " their sons. They told everybodywho would listen, that, in return for the costly education they weregiving them, they expected them to marry large fortunes. 

Peter knew his parents so well, that he never mentioned Pauline to them. 

"When I am of age, " he said to himself, "it will be a different matter. "

Alas! Why had not Pauline's mother waited at least till then?

Poor young girl! On the day on which she entered the castle of Ville-Handry, she had sworn she would bury this love of hers so deep inthe innermost recesses of her heart, that it should never come up andtrouble her thoughts. And she had kept her word. 

But now it suddenly broke forth, more ardent, more powerful, than ever, till it well-nigh overcame her, and crushed her--sweetly and sadly, likethe memory of lost days, and at the same time cruel and heart-rending, like bitter remorse. 

What had become of him? When he had heard that she was going to marrythe count, he had written to her a letter full of despair, in which heoverwhelmed her with irony and contempt. Later, whether he had forgottenher or not, he also had married; and the two lovers who had once hopedto pursue their way through life leaning one upon the other now wenteach their own way. 

For long hours the poor young wife struggled in the solitude of herchamber against these ghosts of the past which crowded around her. But, if ever a guilty thought called up a blush on her brow, she quicklytriumphed over it. Like a brave, loyal woman, she renewed her oath, andswore to devote herself entirely to her husband. He had rescued her fromabject poverty, and bestowed upon her his fortune and his name; and sheowed it to him in return to make him happy. 

She needed all her courage, all her energy, to fulfil her vows; forthe count's character lay fully open before her now, after two years ofmarried life. She knew precisely how narrow his mind was, how empty histhoughts, and how cold his heart. She had long since found out that thebrilliant man of the world, whom everybody considered so clever, wasin reality an absolute nullity, incapable of any thought that was notsuggested to him by others, and at the same time full of overweeningself-esteem, and absurdly obstinate. 

The worst, however, was, that the count was very near hating his wife. He had heard so many people say that she was not his equal, that hefinally believed it himself. Besides, he blamed her for the prestigewhich he had lost. 

An ordinary woman would have shrunk from the difficult task whichPauline had assumed, and would have thought that nothing more could beexpected of her than to keep sacred her marriage-vows. But the countesswas not an ordinary woman. Full of resignation, she meant to do morethan her duty. 

Fortunately, a cradle standing by her bedside made the task somewhateasier. She had a daughter, her Henrietta; and upon that darling curlyhead she built a thousand castles in the air. From that moment sheroused herself from the languor to which she had given way for nearlytwo years, and set to work to study the count with that amazing sagacitywhich a high stake is apt to give. 

A remark accidentally made by her husband cast a new light upon herfate. One morning, when they had finished breakfast, he said, --

"Ah! Nancy was very fond of you. The day before she died, when she knewshe was going, she made me promise her to marry you. "

This Nancy was the count's former housekeeper. 

After this awkward speech, the poor countess saw clearly enough whatposition that woman had really held at the castle. She understood how, modestly keeping in the background, and sheltering herself under thevery humility of her position, she had been in truth the intellect, theenergy, and the strong will, of her master. Her influence over him had, besides, been so powerful, that it had survived her, and that she hadbeen obeyed even in the grave. 

Although cruelly humiliated by this confession of her husband's, thecountess had sufficient self-control not to blame him for his weakness. She said to herself, --

"Well, be it so. For his happiness and for our peace, I will stoop toplay the part Nancy played. "

This was more easily said than done; for the count was not the man to beled openly, nor was he willing to listen to good advice, simply becauseit was good. Irritable, jealous, and despotic, like all weak men, hedreaded nothing so much as what he called an insult to his authority. He meant to be master everywhere, in every thing, and forever. He was sosensitive on this point, that his wife had only to show the shadow of apurpose of her own, and he went instantly to work to oppose and prohibitit. 

"I am not a weather-cock!" was one of his favorite sayings. 

Poor fellow! He did not know that those who turn to the opposite side ofthe wind, nevertheless turn, as well as those who go with the wind. Thecountess knew it; and this knowledge made her strong. After working formany months patiently and cautiously, she thought she had learnt thesecret of managing him, and that henceforth she would be able to controlhis will whenever she was in earnest. 

The opportunity to make the experiment came very soon. Although thegreat people of the neighborhood had generally come round and treatedher quite fairly now, especially since she had become an heiress, thecountess found her position unpleasant, and was anxious to leave thecountry. It recalled to her, besides, too many painful memories. Therewere certain roads and lanes which she could never pass without a pangat her heart. On the other hand, it was well known that the count hadsworn he would end his life in the province. He hated large cities; andthe mere idea of leaving his castle, where every thing was arranged tosuit his habits, made him seriously angry. 

People would not believe it, therefore, when report first arose thathe was going to leave Ville-Handry, that he had bought a town-housein Paris and that he would shortly go there to establish himselfpermanently in the capital. 

"It was much against the will of the countess, " he said, full of delightat her disappointment. "She would not agree to it at all; but I am not aweather-cock. I insisted on having my way, and she yielded at last. "

So that in the latter part of October, in 1851, the Count and theCountess Ville-Handry moved into the magnificent house in VarennesStreet, a princely mansion, which, however, did not cost them more thana third of its actual value, as they happened to buy at a time when realestate was very low. 

But it had been comparatively child's play to bring the count to Paris;the real difficulty was to keep him there. Nothing was more likely thanthat, deprived of the active exercise and the fresh air he enjoyed inthe country, he should miss his many occupations and duties, and eithersuccumb to weariness, or seek refuge in dissipation. His wife foresawthis difficulty, and looked for an object that might give the countabundant employment and amusement. 

Already before leaving home she had dropped in his mind the seed ofthat passion, which, in a man of fifty, can take the place of allothers, --ambition. Thus he came to Paris with the secret desire and thehope of becoming a leader in politics, and making his mark in some greataffair of state. 

The countess however, aware of the dangers which beset a man whoventures upon such slippery ground, determined first to examine thecondition of things so as to be able to warn him in time. Fortunatelyher fortune and her name were of great service to her in thisenterprise. She managed to assemble at her house all the celebrities ofthe day. Her relations helped her; and soon her Wednesdays and Saturdaysbecame famous in Paris. People exerted themselves to the utmost toobtain an invitation to her state dinners, or her smaller parties onSundays. Her house in Varennes Street was looked upon as neutral ground, where political intrigues and party strife were alike tabooed. Thecountess spent a whole winter in making her observations. 

The world, seeing her sit modestly by her fireside, thought she waswholly occupied with her pretty daughter, Henrietta, who was alwaysplaying or reading by her side. But she was all the time listening, andtrying, with all her mental powers, to understand the great questionsof the day. She studied characters; watched the passions of some, anddiscovered the cunning tricks of others, ever anxious to find out whatenemies she would have to fear, and what allies to conciliate. Like oneof those ill-taught professors who study in the morning what they meanto teach in the afternoon, she prepared herself for the lessons whichshe soon meant to give. Fortunately her apprenticeship was short, thanksto her superior intellect, her womanly cleverness, and rare talentswhich no one suspected. 

She soon reaped the fruit of her labors. 

The next winter the count, who had so far kept aloof from politics, came out with his opinions. He soon made his mark, aided by his fineappearance, his elegant manners, and imperturbable self-possession. Hespoke in public, and made an impression by his good common-sense. He advised others, and they were struck by his sagacity. He had soonenthusiastic partisans, and, of course, as violent adversaries. Hisfriends encouraged him to become the leader of his party; and he workedday and night to achieve that end. 

"Unfortunately I have to pay for it at home, " he said to his intimatefriends; "for my wife is one of those timid women who cannot understandthat men are made for the excitement of public life. I should be stillin the province, if I had listened to her. "

She enjoyed her work in quiet delight. The greater the success of herhusband in the world, the prouder she became of her own usefulness tohim. Her feelings were very much those of a dramatic poet who hears theapplause given to the characters which he has created. 

But there was this wonderful feature in her work, --that nobody suspectedher; no one, not even her own child. She wanted Henrietta, as little asthe world, to know what she was to her husband; and she taught her notonly to love him as her father, but to respect and admire him as a manof eminence. Of course, the count was the very last man to suspect anything. He might have been told all, and he would have believed nothing. 

He fancied he had discovered himself the whole line of proceeding whichhis wife had so carefully traced out for him. In the full sincerityof his heart, he believed he had composed and written out the speecheswhich she drew up for him; and the articles for the newspapers, and theletters, which she dictated, appeared to him all to have sprung from hisown fertile brains. He was even sometimes surprised at the want of goodsense in his wife, and pointed out to her, quite ironically, thatthe steps from which she tried hardest to dissuade him were the mostsuccessful he took. But no irony could turn the countess from the pathwhich she had traced out for herself; nor did she ever allow a word oreven a smile to escape her, that might have betrayed her secret. Whenher husband became sarcastic, she bowed her head, and said nothing. But, the more he gloried in his utter nullity, the more she delighted inher work, and found ample compensation in the approval of her ownconscience. 

The count had been so exceedingly good as to take her when she waspenniless; she owed him the historic name she bore and a large fortune;but, in return, she had given him, and without his being aware of it, a position of some eminence. She had made him happy in the only way inwhich a small and ordinary man could be made happy, --by gratifying hisvanity. 

Now she was no longer under obligations to him. 

"Yes, " she said to herself, "we are quits, fairly quits!"

Now also, she reproached herself no longer for the long hours duringwhich her thoughts, escaping from the control of her will, had turned tothe man of her early choice. 

Poor fellow! She had been his evil star. 

His life had been imbittered from the day on which he found himselfforsaken by her whom he loved better than life itself. He had given upevery thing. 

His parents had "hunted up" an heiress, as they called it, and he hadmarried her dutifully. But the good old people had been unlucky. Thebride, chosen among a thousand, had brought their son a fortune of ahundred thousand dollars; but she was a bad woman. And after eight yearsof wretched, intolerable married life, Peter Champcey had shot himself, unable to bear any longer his domestic misfortunes, and the infidelityof his wife. 

He had, however, avoided committing this crime at Angers, where he helda high official position. He had gone to Rosiers, the house formerlyoccupied by Pauline's mother; and there, in a narrow lane, his bodywas found by some peasants coming home from market. The ball had sofearfully disfigured his face, that at first no one recognized him; andthe accident made a terrible sensation. 

The countess heard of it first through her husband. He could notunderstand, he said, how a man in good position, with a bright futurebefore him, and a large income to support him, could thus kill himself. 

"And to choose such a strange place for his suicide!" he added. "It isevident the man was insane. "

But the countess did not hear this. She had fainted. She understood buttoo well why Peter had wished to die in that lane overshadowed by oldelm-trees. 

"I killed him, " she thought, "I killed him!"

The blow was so sudden and so severe, that she came near dying. Fortunately her mother died nearly at the same time; and this misfortunehelped to explain her utter prostration and deep grief. 

Her mother had been gradually fading away, after having had allshe desired, and living in real luxury during her last years. Herselfishness was so intense, that she never became aware of the crueltywith which she had sacrificed her daughter. 

Sacrificed, however, she really had been; for never did woman sufferwhat the countess endured from the day on which her lover's suicideadded bitter remorse to all her former grief. What would have become ofher, if her child had not bound her to life! But she resolved to live;she felt that she was bound to live for Henrietta's sake. 

Thus she struggled on quite alone, for she had not a soul in whom shecould confide, when one afternoon, as she was going down stairs, aservant came to tell her that there was a young man in naval uniformbelow, who desired to have the honor of waiting upon her. 

The servant handed her his card; she took it, and read, --

"Daniel Champcey. "

It was Daniel, Peter's brother. Pale as death, the countess turned as ifto escape. 

"What must I say?" asked the servant, rather surprised at the emotionshown by his mistress. 

The poor woman felt as if she was going to faint. 

"Show him up, " she replied in a scarcely audible voice, --"show him up. "

When she looked up again, there stood before her a young man, twenty-three or twenty-four years old, with a frank and open face, and clear, bright eyes, beaming with intelligence and energy. 

The countess pointed at a chair near her; for she could not have uttereda word to save her daughter's life. 

He could not help noticing her embarrassment; but he did not guess thecause. Peter had never mentioned Pauline's name in his father's house. 

So he sat down, and explained why he came, showing neither embarrassmentnor forwardness. 

As soon as he had graduated at the Naval Academy, he had been made amidshipman on board "The Formidable, " and there he was still. A youngerman had recently been wrongly promoted over him; and he had asked forleave of absence to appeal to the secretary of the navy. He feltquite sure of the justice of his claims; but he also knew that strongrecommendations never spoil a good cause. In fact, he hoped that CountVille-Handry, of whose kindness and great influence he had heard much, would consent to indorse his claims. 

Gradually, and while listening to him, the countess recovered hercalmness. 

"My husband will be happy to serve a countryman of his, " she replied;"and he will tell you so himself, if you will be kind enough to wait forhim, and stay to dinner. "

Daniel did stay. At table he was placed by the side of Henrietta, whowas then fifteen years old; and the countess, seeing these two youngand handsome people side by side, was suddenly struck with an idea whichseemed to her nothing less than inspiration from on high. Why might shenot intrust the future happiness of her daughter to the brother of thepoor man who had loved her so dearly? Thus she might make some amendsfor her own conduct, and show some respect to his memory. 

"Yes, " she said to herself that night, before falling asleep, "it mustbe so. Daniel shall be Henrietta's husband. "

Thus it came about, that, only a fortnight later, Count Ville-Handrysaid to one of his intimate friends, pointing out Daniel, --

"That young Champcey is a very remarkable young man; he has a greatfuture before him. And one of these days, when he is a lieutenant, anda few years older, if it should so happen that he liked Henrietta, andasked me for my consent, I should not say no. The countess might thinkand say of it what she chooses, I am master. "

After that time Daniel became, unfortunately, a constant visitor at thehouse in Varennes Street. 

He had not only obtained ample satisfaction at headquarters, but, by thepowerful influence of certain high personages, he had been temporarilyassigned to duty in the bureau of the navy department, with the promiseof a better position in active service hereafter. 

Thus Daniel and Henrietta saw a great deal of each other, and, to allappearances, began to love each other. 

"O God!" thought the countess, "why are they not a few years older?"

The poor lady had for some months been troubled by dismal presentiments. She felt as if she would not live long; and she trembled at the idea ofleaving her child without any other protector but the count. 

If Henrietta had at least known the truth, and, instead of admiring herfather as a man of superior ability, learned to mistrust his judgment!A hundred times the countess was on the point of revealing her secret. Alas! her great delicacy always kept her from doing so. 

One night, as she returned from a great ball, she suddenly was seizedwith vertigo. She did not think much of it, but sent for a cup of tea. 

When it came, she was standing before the fireplace, undoing her hair;but, instead of taking it, she suddenly raised her hand to her throat, uttered a hoarse sound, and fell back. 

They raised her up. In an instant the whole house was alive. They sentfor the doctors. All was in vain. 

The Countess Ville-Handry had died from disease of the heart. 

III. 

Henrietta, roused by the noise all over the house, the voices in thepassages, and the steps on the staircase, and suspecting that someaccident had happened, had rushed at once into her mother's room. 

There she had heard the doctors utter the fatal words, --

"All is over!"

There were five or six of them in the room; and one of them, his eyesswollen from sleeplessness, and overcome with fatigue, had drawn thecount into a corner, and, pressing his hands, repeated over and overagain, --

"Courage, my dear sir, courage!"

He, overcome, with downcast eye, and cold perspiration on his pallidbrow, did not understand him; for he continued to stammer incessantly, --

"It is nothing, I hope. Did you not say it was nothing?"

There are misfortunes so terrible, so overwhelming in their suddenness, that the stunned mind refuses to believe them, and denies theirgenuineness in spite of their actual presence. 

How could any one imagine or comprehend that the countess, who but amoment ago was standing there full of life, in perfect health, andthe whole vigor of her years, apparently perfectly happy, smiling, andbeloved by all, --how could one conceive that she had all at once ceasedto exist?

They had laid her on her bed in her ball costume, --a blue satin dresstrimmed with lace. The flowers were still in her hair; and the blowhad come with such suddenness, that, even in death, she retained theappearance of life; she was still warm, her skin transparent, and herlimbs supple. Even her eyes, still wide open, retained their expression, and betrayed the last sensation that had filled her heart, --terror. Itlooked as if she had had at that last moment a revelation of the futurewhich her too great cautiousness had prepared for her daughter. 

"My mother is not dead; oh, no! she cannot be dead!" exclaimedHenrietta. And she went from one doctor to the other, urging them, beseeching them, to find some means--

What were they doing there, looking so blank, instead of acting? Werethey not going to restore her, --they whose business it was to curepeople, and who surely had saved a number of people? They turned awayfrom her, distressed by her terrible grief, expressing their inabilityto help by a gesture; and then the poor girl went back to the bed, and, bending over her mother, watched with a painfully bewildered air for herreturn to life. It seemed to her as if she felt that noble heart stillbeat under her hand, and as if those lips, sealed forever by death, mustspeak again to re-assure her. 

They attempted to take her away from that heartrending sight; theybegged her to go to her room; but she insisted upon staying. They triedto remove her by force; but she clung to the bed, and vowed that theyshould tear her to pieces sooner than make her leave her mother. 

At last, however, the truth broke upon her. She sank down upon her kneesby the side of the bed, hiding her face in the drapery, and repeatingwith fierce sobs, --

"My mother, my darling mother!"

It was nearly morning, and the pale dawn was stealing into the room, when at last some sisters of charity came, who had been sent for; andthen a couple of priests; a little later (it was towards the end ofJanuary) one of the count's friends appeared, who undertook all thosesickening preparations which our civilization demands in such cases. Onthe next day the funeral took place. 

More than two hundred persons called to condole with the count, twenty-five or thirty ladies came and kissed Henrietta, calling hertheir poor dear child. 

Then horses were heard in the court-yard, coachmen quarrelling; orderswere given; and at last the hearse rolled away solemnly--and that wasall. 

Henrietta wept and prayed in her chamber. 

Late in the day, the count and Henrietta sat down at table alone for thefirst time in their lives; but they did not eat a morsel. How could theydo it, seeing before them the empty seat, once occupied by her who wasthe life of the whole house, and now never to be filled again?

And thus, for a long time, their meals were a steady reminder of theirloss. During the day they were seen wandering about the house, withoutany apparent purpose, as if looking or hoping for something to happen. 

But there was another true and warm heart, far from that house, whichhad been sorely wounded by the death of the countess. Daniel had lovedher like a mother; and in his heart a mysterious voice warned him, that, in losing her, he had well-nigh lost Henrietta. 

He had called several times at the house of mourning; but it was only afortnight later that he was admitted. When Henrietta saw him, she feltsorry she had not let him come in before. He had apparently suffered asmuch as she; he looked pale; and his eyes were red. 

They remained for some time seated opposite each other, without sayinga word, but deeply moved, and feeling instinctively that their commongrief bound them more firmly than ever to each other. 

The count, in the meantime, walked up and down in the large room. He wasso much changed, that one might have failed to recognize him. There wasa strange want of steadiness in his movements; he looked almost like aparalytic, whose crutches had suddenly broken down. Was he consciousof the immense loss which he had suffered? His vanity was too great torender that very probable. 

"I shall master my grief as soon as I go back to work, " he said. 

He ought not to have done it; but he resumed his duties as a politicianat a time when they had become unusually difficult, and when greatthings were expected of him. Two or three absurd, ridiculous, in factunpardonable blunders, ruined him forever. He lost his reputation as astatesman, and with it his influence. 

As yet, however, his reputation remained uninjured. No one suspected thetruth. They attributed the sudden failure of his faculties to the greatsorrow that had befallen him in the death of his wife. 

"Who would have thought that he had loved her so deeply?" they asked oneanother. 

Henrietta was as much misled as the others, and perhaps even more. Herrespect and her admiration, so far from being diminished, only increasedday by day. She loved him all the more dearly as she watched theapparent effect of his incurable grief. 

He was really deeply grieved, but only by his fall. How had it comeabout? He tortured his mind in vain; he could not find a plausibleexplanation, and said over and over again, --

"It is perfectly inexplicable. "

He talked of regular plots, of a coalition of his enemies, of the blackingratitude of men, and their fickleness. At first he had thought ofgoing back to the country. But gradually, as day followed day, andweeks grew into months, his wounded vanity began to heal; he forgot hismisfortunes, and adopted new habits of life. 

He was a great deal at his club now, rode much on horseback, went to thetheatres, and dined with his friends. Henrietta was delighted; for shehad at one time begun to be seriously concerned for her father's health. But she was not a little amazed when she saw him lay aside his mourning, and exchange his simple costumes, suitable to his age, for the eccentricfashions of the day, wearing brilliant waistcoats and fancy-coloredtrousers. 

Some days later matters grew worse. 

One morning Count Ville-Handry, who was quite gray, appeared atbreakfast with jet black beard and hair. Henrietta could not restrainan expression of amazement. But he smiled, and said with considerableembarrassment, --

"My servant is making an experiment; he thinks this goes better with mycomplexion, and makes me look younger. "

Evidently something strange had occurred in the count's life. But whatwas it?

Henrietta, although ignorant of the world, and at that time innocencepersonified, was, nevertheless, a woman, and hence had the keen instinctof her sex, which is better than all experience. She reflected, and shethought she could guess what had happened. 

After hesitating for three days, the poor girl, saddened rather thanfrightened, confided her troubles to Daniel. But she had only spoken afew words when he interrupted her, and, blushing deeply, said, --

"Do not trouble yourself about that, Miss Henrietta; and, whatever yourfather may do, do not mind it. "

That advice was more easily given than followed; for the count's waysbecame daily more extraordinary. He had gradually drifted away fromhis old friends and his wife's friends, and seemed to prefer to theirhigh-bred society the company of very curious people of all kinds. Anumber of young men came in the forenoon on horseback, and in the mostunceremonious costumes. They came in smoking their cigars, and asked atonce for liquors and absinthe. In the afternoon, another set of men madetheir appearance, --vulgar and arrogant people, with huge whiskers andenormous watch-chains, who gesticulated vehemently, and were on mostexcellent terms with the servants. They were closeted with the count;and their discussions were so loud, they could be heard all over thehouse. 

What were the grave discussions that made so much noise? The countundertook to enlighten his daughter. He told her, that, having beenill-treated in politics, he intended to devote himself henceforth togrand enterprises, and hoped confidently to realize an enormous fortune, while, at the same time, rendering great service to certain branches ofindustry. 

A fortune? Why should he want money? What with his own estate, and whatwith his wife's fortune, he had already an income of a hundred thousanddollars. Was that not quite enough for a man of sixty-five and for ayoung girl who did not spend a thousand a year on her toilet?

Henrietta asked him timidly, for she was afraid of hurting her father'sfeelings, why he wanted more money. 

He laughed heartily, tapped her cheek playfully, and said, --

"Ah, you would like to rule your papa, would you?"

Then he added more seriously, --

"Am I so old, my little lady, that I ought to go into retirement? Haveyou, also, gone over to my enemies?"

"Oh, dear papa!"

"Well, my child, then you ought to know that a man such as I am cannotcondemn himself to inactivity, unless he wants to die. I do not want anymore money; what I want is an outlet for my energy and my talents. "

This was so sensible a reply, that both Henrietta and Daniel felt quitere-assured. 

Both had been taught by the countess to look upon her husband as a manof genius; hence they felt sure that he had only to undertake a thing, and he was sure to succeed. Besides, Daniel hoped that such gravematters of business would keep the count from playing the fashionableyoung man. 

But it seemed as if nothing could turn him from this folly; he becamedaily younger and faster. He wore the most eccentric hats on one ear. He ordered his coats to be made in the very last fashion; and neverwent out without a camellia or a rosebud in his buttonhole. He no longercontented himself with dyeing his hair, but actually began to rouge, and used such strong perfumes, that one might have followed his trackthrough the streets by the odors he diffused around him. 

At times he would sit for hours in an arm-chair, his eyes fixed on theceiling, his brow knit, and his thoughts apparently bent upon some gravequestion. If he was spoken to, he started like a criminal caught in theact. He who formerly prided himself on his magnificent appetite (hesaw in it a resemblance to Louis XIV. ) now hardly ate any thing. On theother hand, he was forever complaining of oppression in the chest, andof palpitation of the heart. 

His daughter repeatedly found him with tears in his eyes, --big tears, which passed through his dyed beard, and fell like drops of ink on hiswhite shirt-front. Then, again, these attacks of melancholy would befollowed by sudden outbursts of joy. He would rub his hands till theypained him; he would sing and almost dance with delight. 

Now and then a commissionaire (it was always the same man) came andbrought him a letter. The count tore it from his hands, threw him agold-piece, and went to shut himself up in his study. 

"Poor papa!" said Henrietta to Daniel. "There are moments when I tremblefor his mind. "

At last, one evening after dinner, when he had drunk more than usually, perhaps in order to gain courage, he drew his daughter on his knee, andsaid in his softest voice, --

"Confess, my dear child, that in your innermost heart you have more thanonce called me a very bad father. I dare say you blame me for leavingyou so constantly alone here in this large house, where you must diefrom sheer weariness. "

Such a charge would have been but too well founded. Henrietta wasleft more completely to herself than the daughter of a workman, whosebusiness keeps him from home all day long. The workman, however, takeshis child out, at least on Sundays. 

"I am never weary, papa, " replied Henrietta. 

"Really? Why, how do you occupy yourself?"

"Oh! in the first place I attend to the housekeeping, and try my bestto make home pleasant to you. Then I embroider, I sew, I study. In theafternoon my music-teacher comes, and my English master. At night Iread. "

The count smiled; but it was a forced smile. 

"Never mind!" he broke in; "such a lonely life cannot go on. A girlof your age stands in need of some one to advise her, to pet her, --anaffectionate and devoted friend. That is why I have been thinking ofgiving you another mother. "

Henrietta drew back her arm, which she had wound round her father'sneck; and, rising suddenly, she said, --

"You think of marrying again?"

He turned his head aside, hesitated moment, and then replied, --

"Yes. "

At first the poor girl could not utter a word, so great were her stupor, her indignation, her bitter grief; then she made an effort, and said ina pained voice, --

"Do you really tell me so, papa? What! you would bring another wifeto this house, which is still alive with the voice of her whom we havelost? You would make her sit down in the chair in which she used to sit, and let her rest her feet on the cushion which she embroidered? Perhapsyou would even want me to call her mamma? Oh, dear papa! surely you donot think of such profanation!"

The count's trouble was pitiful to behold. And yet, if Henrietta hadbeen less excited, she would have read in his eye that his mind was madeup. 

"What I mean to do is done in your behalf, my dear child, " he stammeredout at last. "I am old; I may die; we have no near relations; what wouldbecome of you without a friend?"

She blushed crimson; but she said timidly, --

"But, papa, there is M. Daniel Champcey. "

"Well?"

The count's eyes shone with delight as he saw that she was falling intothe pit he had dug for her. The poor girl went on, --

"I thought--I had hoped--poor mamma had told me--in fact, since you hadallowed M. Daniel to come here"--

"You thought I intended to make him my son-in-law?"

She made no answer. 

"That was in fact the idea your mother had. She had certainly very oddnotions, against which I had to use the whole strength of my firm will. A sailor is a sorry kind of husband, my dear child; a word from hisminister may part him for years from his wife. "

Henrietta remained silent. She began to understand the nature of thebargain which her father proposed to her, and it made her indignant. He thought he had said enough for this time, and left her with thesewords, --

"Consider, my child; for my part, I will also think of it. "

What should she do? There were a hundred ways; but which to choose?Finding herself alone, she took a pen, and for the first time in herlife she wrote to Daniel:--

"I must speak to you _instantly_. Pray come. 

"Henrietta. "

She gave the letter to a servant, ordering him to carry it at onceto its address; and then she waited in a state of feverish anxiety, counting the minutes. 

Daniel Champcey had, in a house not far from the university, threerooms, the windows of which looked out upon the gardens of an adjoiningmansion, where the flowers bloomed brilliantly, and the birds sangjoyously. There he spent almost all the time which was not requiredby his official duties. A walk in company with his friend, Maxime deBrevan; a visit to the theatre, when a particularly fine piece was tobe given; and two or three calls a week at Count Ville-Handry'shouse, --these were his sole and certainly very harmless amusements. 

"A genuine old maid, that sailor is, " said the concierge of the house. 

The truth is, that, if Daniel's natural refinement had not kept himfrom contact with what Parisians call "pleasure, " his ardent love forHenrietta would have prevented his falling into bad company. A pure, noble love, such as his, based upon perfect confidence in her to whomit is given, is quite sufficient to fill up a life; for it makes thepresent delightful, and paints the distant horizon of the future in allthe bright colors of the rainbow. 

But, the more he loved Henrietta, the more he felt bound to be worthy ofher, and to deserve her affections. He was not ambitious. He had chosena profession which he loved. He had a considerable fortune of his own, and was thus, by his private income and his pay as an officer, securedagainst want. What more could he desire? Nothing for himself. 

But Henrietta belonged to a great house; she was the daughter of a manwho had filled a high position; she was immensely rich; and, even if hehad married her only with her own fortune, she would have brought himten times as much as he had. Daniel did not want Henrietta, on theblessed day when she should become his own, to have any thing to wishfor or to regret. Hence he worked incessantly, indefatigably, waking upevery morning anew with the determination to make himself one of thosenames which weigh more than the oldest parchments, and to win oneof those positions which make a wife as proud as she is fond of herhusband. Fortunately, the times were favorable to his ambition. TheFrench navy was in a state of transformation; but the marine was as yetunreformed, waiting, apparently, for the hand of a man of genius. 

And why might not he be that man? Supported by his love, he saw nothingimpossible in that thought, and fancied he could overcome all obstacles. 

"Do you see that d---- little fellow, there, with his quiet ways?"said Admiral Penhoel to his young officers. "Well, look at him; he'llcheckmate you all. "

Daniel was busy in his study, finishing a paper for the minister, whenthe count's servant came and brought him Henrietta's letter. He knewthat something extraordinary must have happened to induce Henrietta, with her usual reserve, to take such a step, and, above all, to write tohim in such brief but urgent terms. 

"Has any thing happened at the house?" he asked the servant. 

"No, sir, not that I know. "

"The count is not sick?"

"No, sir. "

"And Miss Henrietta?"

"My mistress is perfectly well. "

Daniel breathed more freely. 

"Tell Miss Henrietta I am coming at once; and make haste, or I shall bethere before you. "

As soon as the servant had left, Daniel dressed, and a moment later hewas out of the house. As he walked rapidly up the street in which thecount lived, he thought, --

"I have no doubt taken the alarm too soon; perhaps she has only somecommission for me. "

But he was beset with dark presentiments, and had to tell himself thatthat was not likely to be the case. He felt worse than ever, when, uponbeing shown into the drawing-room, he saw Henrietta sitting by the fire, deadly pale, with her eyes all red and inflamed from weeping. 

"What is the matter with you?" he cried, without waiting for the door tobe closed behind him. "What has happened?"

"Something terrible, M. Daniel. "

"Tell me, pray, what. You frighten me. "

"My father is going to marry again. "

At first Daniel was amazed. Then, recalling at once the gradualtransformation of the count, he said, --

"Oh, oh, oh! That explains every thing. "

But Henrietta interrupted him; and, making a great effort, she repeatedto him in a half-stifled voice almost literally her conversation withher father. When she had ended, Daniel said, --

"You have guessed right, Miss Henrietta. Your father evidently doespropose to you a bargain. "

"Ah! but that is horrible. "

"He wanted you to understand, that, if you would consent to hismarriage, he would consent"--

Shocked at what he was going to add, he stopped; but Henrietta saidboldly, --

"To ours, you mean, --to ours? Yes, so I understood it; and that was myreason for sending for you to advise me. "

Poor fellow! She was asking him to seal his fate. 

"I think you ought to consent!" he stammered out. 

She rose, trembling with indignation, and replied, --

"Never, never!"

Daniel was overcome by this sudden shock. Never. He saw all his hopesdashed in an instant, his life's happiness destroyed forever, Henriettalost to him. But the very imminence of the danger restored to him hisenergy. He mastered his grief, and said in an almost calm voice, --

"I beseech you, let me explain to you why I advised you so. Believe me, your father does not want your consent at all. You cannot do without hisconsent; but he can marry without asking you for yours. There is no lawwhich authorizes children to oppose the follies of their parents. Whatyour father wants is your silent approval, the certainty that hisnew wife will be kindly received. If you refuse, he will go on, nevertheless, and not mind your objections. "

"Oh!"

"I am, unfortunately, but too sure of that. If he spoke to you of hisplans, you may be sure he had made up his mind. Your resistancewill lead only to our separation. He might possibly forgive you; butshe--Don't you think she should avail herself to the utmost of herinfluence over him? Who can foresee to what extremities she might be ledby her hatred against you? And she must be a dangerous woman, Henrietta, a woman who is capable of any thing. "

"Why?"

He hesitated for a moment, not daring to speak out fully what hethought; and at last he said slowly, as if weighing his words, --

"Because, because this marriage cannot be any thing else but a barefacedspeculation. Your father is immensely rich; she wants his fortune. "

Daniel's reasoning was so sensible, and he pleaded his cause with sucheagerness, that Henrietta's resolution was evidently shaken. 

"You want me to yield?" she asked. 

"I beseech you to do it. "

She shook her head sadly, and said in a tone of utter dejection, --

"Very well. It shall be done as you wish it. I shall not object to thisprofanation. But you may be sure, my weakness will do us no good. "

It struck ten. She rose, offered her hand to Daniel, and said, --

"I will see you to-morrow evening. By that time I shall know, and I willtell you, the name of the woman whom father is going to marry; for Ishall ask him who she is. "

She was spared that trouble. Next morning, the first words of the countwere, --

"Well, have you thought it over?"

She looked at him till he felt compelled to turn his head away; and thenshe replied in a tone of resignation, --

"Father, you are master here. I should not tell you the truth, if I saidI was not going to suffer cruelly at the idea of a stranger coming hereto--But I shall receive her with all due respect. "

Ah! The count was not prepared for such a speedy consent. 

"Do not speak of respect, " he said. "Tell me that you will be tender, affectionate, and kind. Ah, if you knew her, Henrietta! She is anangel. "

"What is her age?"

"Twenty-five. "

The count read in his daughter's face that she thought his new wife muchtoo young for him; and therefore he added, quickly, --

"Your mother was two years younger when I married her. "

That was so; but he forgot that that was twenty years ago. 

"However, " he added, "you will see her; I shall ask her to let mepresent you to her. She _is_ a foreigner, of excellent family, veryrich, marvellously clever and beautiful; and her name is Sarah Brandon. "

That evening, when Henrietta told Daniel the name of her futuremother-in-law, he started with an air of utter despair, and said, --

"Great God! If Maxime de Brevan is not mistaken, that is worse than anything we could possibly anticipate. "

IV. 

When Henrietta saw how the young officer was overcome by the meremention of that name, Sarah Brandon, she felt the blood turn to ice inher veins. She knew perfectly well that a man like Daniel was not likelyto be so utterly overwhelmed unless there was something fearful, unheardof, in the matter. 

"Do you know the woman, Daniel?"

But he, regretting his want of self-possession, was already thinking howhe could make amends for his imprudence. 

"I swear to you, " he began. 

"Oh, don't swear! I see you know who she is. "

"I know nothing about her. "

"But"--

"It is true I have heard people talk of her once, a _long time ago_. "

"Whom?"

"One of my friends, Maxime de Brevan, a fine, noble fellow. "

"What sort of a woman is she?"

"Ah, me! that I cannot tell you. Maxime happened to mention her justin passing; and I never thought that one of these days I should--IfI seemed to be so very much surprised just now, it was because Iremembered, all of a sudden, a very ugly story in which Maxime said shehad been involved, and then"--

He was ridiculous in his inability to tell a fib; so, when he found thathe was talking nonsense, he turned his head away to avoid Henrietta'seyes. She interrupted him, and said reproachfully, --

"Do you really think I am not strong enough to hear the truth?"

At first he did not reply. Overcome by the strange position in which hefound himself, he looked for a way to escape, and found none. At last hesaid, --

"Miss Henrietta, you must give me time before I tell you any more. Iknow nothing positive; and I dare say I am unnecessarily alarmed. I willtell you all as soon as I am better informed. "

"When will that be?"

"To-night, if I can find Maxime de Brevan at home, as I hope I shall do;if I miss him, you must wait till to-morrow. "

"And if your suspicions turn out to be well founded; if what you fear, and hide from me now, is really so, --what must I do then?"

Without a moment's hesitation, he rose and said in a solemn voice, --

"I am not going to tell you again how I love you, Henrietta; I am notgoing to tell you that to lose you would be death to me, and that in ourfamily we do not value life very highly; you know that, don't you? But, in spite of all that, if my fears should be well founded, as I apprehendthey are, I should not hesitate to say to you, whatever might be theconsequences, Henrietta, and even if we should have to part forever, wemust try our utmost, we must employ all possible means in our power, toprevent a marriage between Count Ville-Handry and Sarah Brandon. "

In spite of all her sufferings, Henrietta felt her heart bounding withunspeakable happiness and joy. Ah! he deserved to be loved, --this manwhom her heart had freely chosen among them all, --this man who gave hersuch an overwhelming proof of his love. She offered him her hand; and, with her eyes beaming with enthusiasm and tenderness, she said, --

"And I, I swear by the sacred memory of my mother, that whatever mayhappen, and whatever force they may choose to employ, I shall neverbelong to any one but to you. "

Daniel had seized her hand, and held it for some time pressed to hislips. At last, when his rapture gave way to calmer thoughts, he said, --

"I must leave you at once, Henrietta, if I want to catch Maxime. "

As he left, his head was in a whirl, his thoughts in a maze. His lifeand his happiness were at stake; and a single word would decide his fatein spite of all he could do. 

A cab was passing; he hailed it, jumped in, and cried to the driver, --

"Go quick, I say! You shall have five francs! No. 61 Rue Laffitte!"

That was the house where Maxime de Brevan lived. 

He was a man of thirty or thirty-five years, remarkably well made, light-haired, wearing a full beard, with a bright eye, and pleasingface. Mixing on intimate terms with the men who make up what is calledhigh life, and with whom pleasure is the only occupation, he was verypopular with them all. They said he was a man that could always berelied upon, at all times ready to render you a service when it wasin his power, a pleasant companion, and an excellent second whenever afriend had to fight a duel. 

In fine, neither slander nor calumny had ever attacked his reputation. And yet, far from following the advice of the philosopher, who tells usto keep our life from the eye of the public, Maxime de Brevan seemed totake pains to let everybody into his secrets. He was so anxious to telleverybody where he had been, and what he had been doing, that you mighthave imagined he was always preparing to prove an alibi. 

Thus he told the whole world that the Brevans came originally from theprovince of Maine, and that he was the last, the sole representative, of that old family. Not that he prided himself particularly on hisancestors; he acknowledged frankly that there was very little left oftheir ancient splendor; in fact, nothing but a bare support. But henever said what this "support" amounted to; his most intimate friendscould not tell whether he had one thousand or ten thousand a year. Somuch only was certain, that, to his great honor and glory, he had solvedthe great problem of preserving his independence and his dignity whileassociating, a comparatively poor man, with the richest young men ofParis. 

His rooms were simple and unpretending; and he kept but a singleservant--his carriage he hired by the month. 

How had Maxime Brevan become Daniel's friend? In the simplest possibleway. They had been introduced to each other at a great ball by a commonfriend of theirs, a lieutenant in the navy. About one o'clock inthe morning they had gone home together; and as the moon was shiningbrightly, the weather was mild, and the walking excellent, they hadloitered about the Place de la Concorde while smoking their cigars. 

Had Maxime really felt such warm sympathy for his friend? Perhaps so. Atall events, Daniel had been irresistibly attracted by the peculiar waysof Maxime, and especially by the cool stoicism with which he spokeof his genteel poverty. Then they had met again, and finally becameintimate. 

Brevan was just dressing for the opera when Daniel entered his room. Heuttered a cry of delight when he saw him, as he always did. 

"What!" he said, "the hermit student from the other side of the riverin this worldly region, and at this hour? What good wind blows you overhere?"

Then, suddenly noticing Daniel's terrified appearance, he added, --

"But what am I talking about? You look frightened out of your wits. What's the matter?"

"A great misfortune, I fear, " replied Daniel. 

"How so? What is it?"

"And I want you to help me. "

"Don't you know that I am at your service?"

Daniel certainly thought so. 

"I thank you in advance, my dear Maxime; but I do not wish to give youtoo much trouble. I have a long story to tell you, and you are justgoing out"--

But Brevan interrupted him, shaking his head kindly, and saying, --

"I was only going out for want of something better to do, upon my word!So sit down, and tell me all. "

Daniel had been so overcome by terror, and the fear that he mightpossibly lose Henrietta, that he had run to his friend withoutconsidering what he was going to tell him. Now, when the moment came tospeak, he was silent. The thought had just occurred to him, that CountVille-Handry's secret was not his own, and that he was in duty bound notto betray it, if possible, even if he could have absolutely relied uponhis friend's discretion. 

He did not reply, therefore, but walked up and down the room, seeking invain some plausible excuse, and suffering perfect agony. This continuedso long, that Maxime, who had of late heard much of diseases of thebrain, asked himself if Daniel could possibly have lost his mind. 

No; for suddenly his friend stopped before him, and said in a short, sharp tone, --

"First of all, Maxime, swear that you will never, under anycircumstances, say to any human being a word of what I am going to tellyou. "

Thoroughly mystified, Brevan raised his hand, and said, --

"I pledge my word of honor!"

This promise seemed to re-assure Daniel; and, when he thought he hadrecovered sufficient control over himself, he said, --

"Some months ago, my dear friend, I heard you telling somebody ahorrible story concerning a certain Mrs. Sarah Brandon"--

"Miss, if you please, not Mrs. "

"Well, it does not matter. You know her?"

"Certainly. Everybody knows her. "

Daniel did not notice the extreme self-conceit with which these wordswere uttered. 

"All right, then. Now, Maxime, I conjure you, by our friendship, tellme frankly what you think of her. What kind of a woman is this MissBrandon?"

His features, as well as his voice, betrayed such extreme excitement, that Brevan was almost stunned. At last he said, --

"But, my dear fellow, you ask me that in a manner"--

"I must know the truth, I tell you. It is of the utmost importance tome. "

Brevan, struck by a sudden thought, touched his forehead, andexclaimed, --

"Oh, I see! You are in love with Sarah!"

Daniel would never have thought of such a subterfuge in order to avoidmentioning the name of Count Ville-Handry; but, seeing it thus offeredto him, he determined to profit by the opportunity. 

"Well, yes, suppose it is so, " he said with a sigh. 

Maxime raised his hands to heaven, and said in a tone of painfulconviction, --

"In that case you are right. You ought to inquire; for you may be closeupon a terrible misfortune. "

"Ah, is she really so formidable?"

Maxime shrugged his shoulders, as if he were impatient at being calledupon to prove a well-known fact, and said, --

"I should think so. "

There seemed to be no reason why Daniel should persist in his questionsafter that. Those words ought to have been explanation enough. Nevertheless he said in a subdued voice, --

"Pray explain, Maxime! Don't you know, that, as I lead a very quietlife, I know nothing?"

Brevan, looking more serious than he had ever done, rose and replied, leaning against the mantlepiece, --

"What would you have me tell you? It is only fools who call out tolovers to beware; and to warn a man who will not be warned, is useless. Are you really in love with Miss Sarah, or are you not? If you are, nothing that I could say would change your mind. Suppose I were to tellyou that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who hasalready the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved heras you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could provethem? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand witheffusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. Youwould vow, in the candor of your heart, that you are forever cured, and, when you leave me"--

"Well?"

"You would rush to your beloved, tell her all I said, and beseech her toclear herself of all these charges. "

"I beg your pardon; I am not one of those men who"--

But Brevan was getting more and more excited. He interrupted his friend, and said, --

"Nonsense! You are a man like all other men. Passion does not reason, does not calculate; and that is the secret of its strength. As long aswe have a spark of commonsense left, we are not really in love. That isso, I tell you; and no will, no amount of energy, can do any thing withit. There are people who tell you soberly that they have been in lovewithout losing their senses, and reproach you for not keeping cool. Bosh! Those people remind me of still champagne blaming sparklingchampagne for popping off the cork. And now, my dear fellow, have thekindness to accept this cigar, and let us take a walk. "

Was that really so as Brevan said? Was it true that real love destroysin us the faculty of reasoning, and of distinguishing truth fromfalsehood? Did he really not love Henrietta truly, because he was on thepoint of giving her up for the sake of doing his duty?

Oh, no, no! Brevan had been speaking of another kind of love, --a loveneither pure nor chaste. He spoke of those passions which suddenlystrike us down like lightning; which confound our senses, and misleadour judgment; which destroy every thing, as fire does, and leave nothingbehind but disaster and disgrace and remorse. 

But all the more painful became Daniel's thoughts as he remembered thatCount Ville-Handry was overcome by one of these terrible passions for aworthless creature. He could not accept Maxime's offer. 

"One word, I pray you, " he said. "Suppose I lose my free will, andsurrender absolutely; what will become of me?"

Brevan looked at him with an air of pity, and said, --

"Not much will happen to you; only"--

And then he added with almost sternness, mixed with bitter sarcasm, --

"You ask me for your horoscope? Be it so. Have you a large fortune?"

"About fifty thousand dollars. "

"Well, in six months they will be gone; in a year you will beoverwhelmed with debts, and at your wits' end; in less than a year and ahalf, you will have become a forger. "

"Maxime!"

"Ah! You asked me to tell you the truth. Then, as to your socialposition. Now it is excellent; you have been promoted as rapidly asmerit could claim, everybody says. You will be an admiral one of thesedays. But in six months you will be nothing at all; you will haveresigned your commission, or you will have been dismissed. "

"Allow me"--

"No. You are an honest man, the most honorable man I know; after sixmonths' acquaintance with Sarah Brandon, you will have lost your self-respect so completely, that you will have become a drunkard. There isyour picture. 'It's not flattered!' you will say. But you wanted to haveit. And now let us go. "

This time he was determined; and Daniel saw that he would not obtainanother word from him, unless he changed his tactics. He held him back, therefore, a moment; and, as he opened the door, he said, --

"Maxime, you must pardon me a very innocent deception, which wassuggested by your own words. It is not I who am in love with Miss SarahBrandon. "

Brevan was so much surprised, he could not stir. 

"Who is it, then?" he asked. 

"One of my friends. "

"What name?"

"I wish you would render the service I ask of you doubly valuable by notasking me that question, --at least, not to-day. "

Daniel spoke with such an accent of truth, that not a shadow of doubtremained on Maxime's mind. It was not Daniel who had fallen in love withSarah Brandon. Brevan did not doubt that for a moment. But he could notconceal his trouble, and his disappointment even, as he exclaimed, --

"Well done, Daniel! Tell me that your ingenuous people cannot deceiveanybody!"

However, he said nothing more about it; and, while Daniel was pouringout his excuses, he quietly went back to the fire, and sat down. After amoment's silence, he began again, --

"Let us assume, then, that it is one of your friends who is bewitched?"

"Yes. "

"And the matter is--serious?"

"Alas! He talks of marrying that woman. "

Maxime shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and said, --

"As to that, console yourself. Sarah will never consent. "

"So far from that, she herself has made the suggestion. "

This time, Maxime raised his head suddenly, and looked stupefied. 

"Then your friend must be very rich. "

"He is immensely rich. "

"He bears a great name, and holds a high position?"

"His name is one of the oldest and noblest in the province of Anjou. "

"And he is a very old man?"

"He is sixty-five. "

Brevan struck the marble slab of the mantlepiece with his fist so thatit shook, and exclaimed, --

"Ah, she told me she would succeed!"

And then he added in a very low tone of voice, as if speaking to himselfwith an indescribable accent of mingled admiration and hatred, --

"What a woman! Oh, what a woman!"

Daniel, who was himself greatly excited, and far too busy with his ownthoughts to observe what was going on, did not notice the excitement ofhis friend; he continued quietly, --

"Now you will understand my great curiosity. In order to prevent thescandal of such a marriage, my friend's family would do every thing inthe world. But how can you attack a woman of whose antecedents and modeof life nothing is known?"

"Yes, I understand, " said Brevan, --"I understand. "

His features betrayed that he was making a great mental effort. Heremained for some time absorbed in his thoughts; and at last he said, asif coming to a decision, --

"No, I do not see any way to prevent this marriage; none at all. "

"Still, from what you told me"--

"What!"

"About the cupidity of this woman. "

"Well?"

"If she were offered a large sum, some eighty or a hundred thousanddollars?"

Maxime laughed out loud; but there was not the true ring in hislaughter. 

"You might offer her two hundred thousand, and she would laugh at you. Do you think she would be fool enough to content herself with a fractionof a fortune, if she can have the whole, with a great name and a highposition into the bargain?"

Daniel opened his lips to present another suggestion; but Maxime, layingaside his usual half-dreamy, mocking manner, said, as if roused by amatter of great personal interest, --

"You do not understand me, my dear friend. Miss Brandon is not one ofthose vulgar hawks, who, in broad daylight, seize upon a poor pigeon, pluck it alive, and cast it aside, still living, and bleeding all over. "

"Then, Maxime, she must be"--

"Well, I tell you you misapprehend her. Miss Brandon"--

He stopped suddenly, and looking at Daniel with a glance with whicha judge examines the features of a criminal, he added in an almostthreatening voice, --

"By telling you what little I know about her, Daniel, I give you thehighest proof of confidence which one man can give to another. I loveyou too dearly to exact your promise to be discreet. If you ever mentionmy name in connection with this affair, if you ever let any one suspectthat you learned what I am going to tell you from me, you will dishonoryourself. "

Daniel, deeply moved, seized his friend's hand, and, pressing it mostaffectionately, said, --

"Ah, you know Daniel Champcey is to be relied upon. "

Maxime knew it; for he continued, --

"Miss Sarah Brandon is one of those female cosmopolitan adventurers, whom steam brings nowadays to us from all the four quarters of theworld. Like so many others, she, also, has come to Paris to spread hernet, and catch her birds, But she is made of finer stuff than most ofthem, and more clever. Her ambition soars higher; and she possesses areal genius for intrigues. She means to have a fortune, and is willingto pay any price for it; but she is also desirous to be respected in theworld. 

"I should not be surprised if anybody told me Miss Sarah was born withinten miles of Paris; but she calls herself an American. The fact is, she speaks English like an Englishwoman, and knows a great deal more ofAmerica than you know of Paris. I have heard her tell the story ofher family to a large and attentive audience; but I do not say that Ibelieved it. 

"According to her own account, M. Brandon, her father, a thoroughbredYankee, was a man of great enterprise and energy, who was ten timesrich, and as often wretchedly poor again in his life, but died leavingseveral millions. This Brandon, she says, was a banker and broker in NewYork when the civil war broke out. He entered the army, and in less thansix months, thanks to his marvellous energy, he rose to be a general. When peace came, he was without occupation, and did not know what onearth to do with himself. Fortunately, his good star led him into aregion where large tracts of land happened to be for sale. He boughtthem for a few thousand dollars, and soon after discovered on hispurchase the most productive oil-wells in all America. He was just aboutto be another Peabody when a fearful accident suddenly ended hislife; he was burnt in an enormous fire that destroyed one of hisestablishments. 

"As to her mother, Miss Sarah says she lost her when she was quiteyoung, in a most romantic, though horrible manner"--

"What!" broke in Daniel, "has nobody taken the trouble to ascertain ifall these statements are true?"

"I am sure I do not know. This much is certain, that sometimes curiousfacts leak out. For instance, I have fallen in with Americans who haveknown a broker Brandon, a Gen. Brandon, a Petroleum Brandon. "

"He may have borrowed the name. "

"Certainly, especially when the original man is said to have died inAmerica. However, Miss Brandon has been living now for five years inParis. She came here accompanied by a Mrs. Brian, a relative of hers, who is the dryest, boniest person you can imagine, but at the same timethe slyest woman I have ever seen. She also brought with her a kindof protector, a Mr. Thomas Elgin, also a relation of hers, a mostextraordinary man, stiff like a poker, but evidently a dangerous man, who never opens his mouth except when he eats. He is a famous hand atsmall-swords, however, and snuffs his candle, nine times out of ten, ata distance of thirty yards. This Mr. Thomas Elgin, whom the world callsfamiliarly Sir Thorn, and Mrs. Brian, always stay with Miss Sarah. 

"When she first arrived, Miss Sarah established herself in a house nearthe Champs Elysees, which she furnished most sumptuously. Sir Thorn, whois a jockey of the first water, had discovered a pair of gray horses forher which made a sensation at the Bois de Boulogne, and drew everybody'sattention to their fair owner. Heaven knows how she had managed to geta number of letters of introduction. But certainly two or three of themost influential members of the American colony here received her attheir houses. After that, all was made easy. Gradually she crept intosociety; and now she is welcome almost everywhere, and visits, not onlyat the best houses, but even in certain families which have a reputationof being quite exclusive. 

"In fine, if she has enemies, she has also fanatic partisans. If somepeople say she is a wretch, others--and they are by no means the leastclever--tell you that she is an angel, only wanting wings to fly awayfrom this wicked world. They talk of her as of a poor little orphan-girl, whom people slander atrociously because they envy her youth, herbeauty, her splendor. "

"Ah, is she so rich?"

"Miss Brandon spends at least twenty thousand dollars a year. "

"And no one inquires where they come from?"

"From her sainted father's petroleum-wells, my dear fellow. Petroleumexplains everything. "

Brevan seemed to feel a kind of savage delight in seeing Daniel'sdespair, and in explaining to him most minutely how solidly, andhow skilfully Miss Sarah Brandon's position in the world had beenestablished. Had he any expectation to prevent a struggle with her byexaggerating her strength? Or rather, knowing Daniel as he did, --farbetter, unfortunately, than he was known by him, --was he trying toirritate him more and more against this formidable adversary?

At all events, he continued in that icy tone which gives to sarcasm itsgreatest bitterness, --

"Besides, my dear Daniel, if you are ever introduced at MissBrandon's, --and I pray you will believe me, people are not so easilyintroduced there, --you will be dumfounded at first by the tone thatprevails in that house. The air is filled with a perfume of hypocrisywhich would rejoice the stiffest of Quakers. Cant rules supreme there, putting a lock to the mouth, and a check to the eyes. "

Daniel began evidently to be utterly bewildered. 

"But how, how can you reconcile that, " he said, "with the thoroughlyworldly life of Miss Brandon?"

"Oh, very easily, my dear fellow! and there you see the sublime policyof the three rogues. To the outer world, Miss Brandon is all levity, indiscretion, coquettishness, and even worse. She drives herself, shortens her petticoats, and cuts down her dress-bodies atrociously. Shesays she has a right to do as she pleases, according to the code of lawswhich govern American young ladies. But at home she bows to the tasteand the wishes of her relative, Mrs. Brian, who displays all the extremeprudishness of the austerest Puritan. Then she has that stiff, tall SirThorn ever at her side, who never jokes. Oh! they understand each otherperfectly; the parts are carefully distributed, and"--

Daniel showed that he was utterly discouraged. 

"There is no way, then, of getting hold of this woman?" he asked. 

"I think not. "

"But that adventure of which you spoke some time ago?"

"Which? That with poor Kergrist?"

"How do I know which? It was a fearful story; that is all I remember. What did I, at that time, care for Miss Brandon? Now, to be sure"--

Brevan shook his head, and said, --

"Now, you think that story might become a weapon in your hands? No, Daniel. Still it is not a very long one; and I can now tell it to youmore in detail than I could before. 

"About fifteen months ago, there arrived in Paris a nice young mancalled Charles de Kergrist. He had lost as yet none of his illusions, being barely twenty-five years old, and having something like a hundredthousand dollars of his own. He saw Miss Brandon, and instantly 'tookfire. ' He fell desperately in love with her. What his relations werewith her, no one can tell positively, --I mean with sufficient evidenceto carry conviction to others, --for the young man was a model ofdiscretion. But what became only too well known was the fact, that, about eight months later, the people living near Miss Brandon's housesaw one morning, when the shutters were opened, a corpse dangling at adistance of a few feet above the ground from the iron fastenings of thelady's window. Upon inspection, the dead man proved to be that unluckyKergrist. In the pocket of his overcoat a letter was found, in which hedeclared that he committed suicide because an unreturned affection hadmade life unbearable to him. Now, this letter--mark the fact--was open;that is to say, it had been sealed, and the seal was broken. "

"By whom?"

"Let me finish. The accident, as you may imagine, made a tremendousnoise. The family took it up. An inquest was held; and it was found thatthe hundred thousand dollars which Kergrist had brought with him hadutterly disappeared. "

"And Miss Brandon's reputation was not ruined?"

Maxime replied with a bitter, ironical smile, --

"You know very well that she was not. On the contrary, the hanging wasturned by her partisans into an occasion for praising her marvellousvirtuousness. 'If she had been weak, ' they said, 'Kergrist would nothave hanged himself. Besides, ' they added, 'how can a girl, be she everso pure and innocent, prevent her lovers from hanging themselves ather windows? As to the money, ' they said, 'it had been lost at thegaming-table. ' Kergrist was reported to have been seen at Baden-Badenand at Homburg; no doubt he played. "

"And the world was content with such an explanation?"

"Yes; why not? To be sure, some sceptical persons told the whole storyvery differently. According, to their account, Miss Sarah had been themistress of M. De Kergrist, and, seeing him utterly ruined, had senthim off one fine morning. They stated, that, the evening before theaccident, he had come to the house at the usual hour, and, findingit closed, had begged, and even wept, and finally threatened to killhimself; that, thereupon, he had really killed himself; (poor fool thathe was!) that Miss Brandon, concealed behind the blinds, had watched allhis preparations for the fearful act; that she had seen him fasten therope to the outside hinges of her window, put the noose around hisneck, and then swing off into eternity; that she had watched him closelyduring his agony, and stood there till the last convulsions had passedaway. "

"Horrible!" whispered Daniel, --"too horrible!"

But Maxime seized him by the arm, and pressing it so as almost to hurthim, said in a low, hoarse voice, --

"That is not the worst yet. As soon as she saw that Kergrist wassurely dead, she slipped down stairs like a cat, opened the house-doornoiselessly, and, gliding stealthily along the wall till she reached thebody, she actually searched the still quivering corpse to assure herselfthat there was nothing in the pockets that could possibly compromiseher. Finding the last letter of Kergrist, she took it away with her, broke the seal, and read it; and, having found that her name was notmentioned in it, she had the amazing audacity to return to the body, andto put the letter back where she had found it. Then only she breathedfreely. She had gotten rid of a man whom she feared. She went to bed, and slept soundly. "

Daniel had become livid. 

"That woman is a monster!" he exclaimed. 

Brevan said nothing. His eyes shone with intense hatred; his lips werequivering with indignation. He no longer thought of discretion, ofcaution. He forgot himself, and gave himself up to his feelings. 

"But I have not done yet, Daniel, " he said, after a pause. "There isanother crime on record, of older date. The first appearance of MissBrandon in Paris society. You ought to know that also. 

"One evening, about four years ago, the president of the Mutual DiscountSociety came into the cashier's room to tell him, that, on the followingday, the board of directors would examine his books. The cashier, anunfortunate man by the name of Malgat, replied that every thing wasready; but, the moment the president had turned his back, he took asheet of paper, and wrote something like this:--

"'Forgive me, I have been an honest man forty years long; now a fatalpassion has made me mad. I have drawn money from the bank which wasintrusted to my care; and, in order to screen my defalcations, I haveforged several notes. I cannot conceal my crime any longer. The firstdefalcation is only six months old. The whole amount is about fourhundred thousand francs. I cannot bear the disgrace which I haveincurred; in an hour I shall have ceased to live. '

"Malgat put this letter in a prominent place on his desk, and thenrushed out, without a cent in his pocket, to throw himself into thecanal. But when he reached the bank, and saw the foul, black water, hewas frightened. For hours and hours he walked up and down, asking God inhis madness for courage. He never found that courage. 

"But what was he to do? He could not flee, having no money; and whereshould he hide? He could not return to his bank; for there, by thistime, his crime must have become known. In his despair he ran as far asthe Champs Elysees, and late in the night he knocked at the door of MissBrandon's house. 

"They did not know yet what had happened, and he was admitted. Then, inhis wild despair, he told them all, begging them to give him a couple ofhundreds only of the four hundred thousand which he had stolen in orderto give them to Miss Brandon, --a hundred only, to enable him to escapeto Belgium. 

"They refused. And when he begged and prayed, falling on his kneesbefore Miss Sarah, Sir Thorn seized him by the shoulders, and turned himout of the house. "

Maxime, overcome by his intense excitement, fell into an easy-chair, and remained there for a considerable time, his eyes fixed, his browdarkened, repenting himself, no doubt, of his candor, his wrath, and hisforgetfulness of all he owed to himself and to others. 

But, when he rose again, his rare strength of will enabled him to assumehis usual phlegmatic manner; and he continued in a mocking tone, --

"I see in your face, Daniel, that you think the story is monstrous, improbable, almost impossible. Nevertheless, four years ago, it wasbelieved all over Paris, and set off by a number of hideous detailswhich I will spare you. If you care to look at the papers of that year, you will find it everywhere. But four years are four centuries in Paris. To say nothing of the many similar stories that have happened since. "

Daniel said nothing, he only bowed his head sadly. He felt a kind ofpainful emotion, such as he had never before experienced in his life. 

"It is not so much the story itself, " he said at last, "that overcomesme so completely. What I cannot comprehend is, how this woman couldrefuse the man whose accomplice she had been the small pittance herequired in order to evade justice, and to escape to Belgium. "

"Nevertheless, that was so, " repeated M. De Brevan; and then he addedemphatically, "at least, they say so. "

Daniel did not notice this attempt to become more cautious again. Hecontinued pensively, --

"Is it not very improbable that Miss Brandon should not have beenafraid to exasperate the unfortunate man, and to drive him to desperatemeasures? In his furious rage, he might have left the house, rushed to apolice-officer, and confessed to him every thing, laying the evidence hehad in his hands before a magistrate, and"--

"You say, " replied Brevan, interrupting him with a dry, sardonic laugh, "precisely what all the advocates of the fair American said at thattime. But I tell you, that her peculiarity is exactly the daring withwhich she ventures upon the most dangerous steps. She does not pretendto avoid difficulties; she crushes them. Her prudence consists incarrying imprudence to the farthest limits. "

"But"--

"You ought to credit her, besides, with sufficient astuteness andexperience to know that she had taken the most careful precautions, having destroyed every evidence of her own complicity, and feeling quitesafe in that direction. Moreover, she had studied Malgat's character, as she studied afterwards Kergrist's. She was quite sure that neither ofthem would accuse her, even at the moment of death. And yet, in thecase of this Mutual Discount Society, her calculations did not proveabsolutely correct. "

"How so?"

"It became known that she had received Malgat two or three timessecretly, for he did not openly enter her house; and the penny papershad it, that 'the fair stranger was no stranger to small peculations. 'Public opinion was veering around, when it was reported that shehad been summoned to appear before a magistrate. That, however, wasfortunate for her; she came out from the trial whiter and purer thanAlpine snow. "

"Oh!"

"And so perfectly cleared, that, when the whole matter was brought up incourt, she was not even summoned as a witness. "

Daniel started up, and exclaimed, --

"What! Malgat had the sublime self-abnegation to undergo the agonies ofa trial, and the infamy of a condemnation, without allowing a word toescape?"

"No. For the simple reason that Malgat was sentenced _in contumaciam_ toten years in the penitentiary. "

"And what has become of the poor wretch?"

"Who knows? They say he killed himself. Two months later, a halfdecomposed body was found in the forest of Saint Germain, which peopledeclared to be Malgat. However"--

He had become livid, in his turn; but he continued in an almostinaudible voice, as if to meet Daniel's objections before they wereexpressed, --

"However, somebody who used to be intimate with Malgat has assured methat he met him one day in Dronot Street, before the great auction-mart. The man said he recognized him, although he seemed to be mostartistically disguised. This is what has set me thinking more than once, that, if people were not mistaken, a day might, after all, yet come, when Miss Sarah would have a terrible bill to settle with her implacablecreditor. "

He passed his hand across his brow as if to drive away suchuncomfortable thoughts, and then said with a forced laugh, --

"Now, my dear fellow, I have come to the end of my budget. The detailswere all given me by Miss Sarah's friends as well as by her enemies. Some you may read of in the papers; but most I know from my own long andpatient observation. And, if you ask me what interest I could have inknowing such a woman, I will tell you frankly, that you see before youone of her victims; for my dear Daniel, I have to confess it, I alsohave been in love with her; and how! But I was too small a personage, and too poor a devil, to be worth a serious thought of Miss Brandon. As soon as she felt sure that her abominable tricks had set my head onfire, and that I had become an idiot, a madman, a stupid fool--on thatvery day she laughed in my face. Ah! I tell you, she played with meas if I had been a child, and then she sent me off as if I had been alackey. And now I hate her mortally, as I loved her almost criminally. Therefore, if I can help you, in secret, without becoming known, you maycount upon me. "

Why should Daniel have doubted the truthfulness of his friend'sstatements? Had he not himself, and quite voluntarily, confessed hisown folly, his own love, anticipating all questions, and making a cleanbreast of the whole matter?

Not a doubt, therefore, arose in Daniel's mind. On the contrary, hethanked God for having sent him such an ally, such a friend, who hadlived long enough amid all these intrigues of Parisian high life to knowall its secret springs, and to guide him safely. He took Maxime's handin his own, and said with deep feeling, --

"Now, my friend, we are bound to each other for life. "

Brevan seemed deeply touched; he raised his hand as if to wipe a tearfrom his eyes. But he was not a man to give way to tender feelings. Hesaid, --

"But how about your friend? How can we prevent his marrying Miss Sarah?Does any way occur to you? No? Ah! you see, it will be hard work. "

He seemed to meditate deeply for a few moments; then uttering his wordsslowly and emphatically, as if to lend them their full weight, andimpress them forcibly on Daniel's mind, he resumed, --

"We must attack Miss Brandon herself, if we want to master thesituation. If we could once know who she really is, all would be safe. Fortunately there is no difficulty in Paris in finding spies, if youhave money enough. "

As the clock on the mantlepiece struck half-past ten, he started andstopped. He jumped up as if suddenly inspired by a bright idea, and saidhurriedly, --

"But now I think of it, Daniel, you do not know Miss Brandon; you havenever even seen her!"

"No, indeed!"

"Well, that's a pity. We must know our enemies; how else can we evensmile at them? I want you to see Miss Sarah. "

"But who will point her out to me? where? when?"

"I will do it to-night, at the opera. I bet she will be there!"

Daniel was in evening costume, having called upon Henrietta, and then hewas all ready. 

"Very well, " he said, "I am willing. "

Without losing a moment, they went out, and reached the theatre justas the curtain rose on the fourth act of Don Giovanni. They were, fortunately, able to secure two orchestra-chairs. The stage wasgorgeous; but what did they care for the singer on the boards, or thedivine music of Mozart? Brevan took his opera-glasses out, and rapidlysurveying the house, he had soon found what he was looking for. Hetouched Daniel with his elbow, and, handing him the glasses, whisperedin his ear, --

"Look there, in the third box from the stage; look, there she is!"

V. 

Daniel looked up. In the box which Maxime had pointed out to him he sawa girl of such rare and dazzling beauty, that he could hardly retaina cry of admiration. She was leaning forward, resting on the velvetcushion of her box, in order to hear better. 

Her hair, perfectly overwhelming in its richness, was so carelesslyarranged, that no one could doubt it was all her own; it was almostgolden, but with such a bright sheen, that at every motion sparks seemedto start from its dark masses. Her large, soft eyes were overshadowed bylong lashes; and as she now opened them wide, and now half closed themagain, they changed from the darkest to the lightest blue. 

Her lips smiled in all the freshness and innocence of merry youth, displaying now and then two rows of teeth, matchless in their beauty andregularity. 

"Can that be, " said Daniel to himself, "the wretched creature whoseportrait Maxime has just given me?"

A little behind her, and half-hid in the shade of the box, appeareda large bony head, adorned with an absurd bunch of feathers. Her eyesflashed indignation; and her narrow lips seemed to say perpetually, "Shocking!" That was Mrs. Brian. 

Still farther back, barely discernible after long examination, arose atall, stiff figure, a bald, shining head, two dark, deep-sunk eyes, ahooked nose, and a pair of immense streaming whiskers. That was the Hon. Thomas Elgin, commonly known as Sir Thorn. 

As Daniel was persistently examining the box, with the smiling girl, the stern old woman, and the placid old man in the background, he feltdoubts of all kinds creeping into his mind. 

Might not Maxime be mistaken? Did he not merely repeat the atrociousslanders of the envious world?

These thoughts troubled Daniel; and he would have mentioned his doubtsto Maxime; but his neighbors were enthusiasts about music, and, as soonas he bent over to whisper into his friend's ear, they growled, and, ifhe ventured to utter a word, they forced him to be silent. At last thecurtain fell. Many left the house; others simply rose to look around;but Maxime and Daniel remained in their seats. Their whole attention wasconcentrated upon Miss Brandon's box, when they saw the door open, anda gentleman enter, who, at the distance at which they sat, looked likea very young man. His complexion was brilliantly fair, his beard jetblack, and his curly hair most carefully arranged. He had his opera-hatunder his arm, a camellia in his button-hole; and his light-yellow kidgloves were so tight, that it looked as if they must inevitably burstthe instant he used his hands. 

"Count Ville-Handry!" said Daniel to himself. 

Somebody touched his shoulder slightly; and, as he turned round, hefound it was Maxime, who said with friendly irony, --

"Your old friend, is it not? The happy lover of Miss Brandon?"

"Yes, it is so. I have to confess it. "

He was just in the act of explaining the reasons for his silence, whenM. De Brevan interrupted him, saying, --

"Just look, Daniel; just look!"

The count had taken a seat in the front part of the box, by MissBrandon's side, and was talking to her with studied affectation, bendingover her, gesticulating violently, and laughing till he showed everyone of the long yellow teeth which were left him. He was evidently onexhibition, and desired to be seen by everybody. Suddenly, however, after Miss Brandon had said a few words to him, he rose, and went out. 

The bell behind the scenes was ringing, and the curtain was about torise again. 

"Let us _go_, " said Daniel to M. De Brevan: "I am suffering. "

He was really suffering, mortified by the ridiculous scene whichHenrietta's father was playing. But he entertained no longer any doubts;he had clearly seen how the adventuress was spurring on the old man, andfanning his feeble flame. 

"Ah! it will be hard work to rescue the count from the wiles of thiswitch, " said Maxime. 

Having left the house, they were just turning into the narrow streetwhich leads to the boulevards, when they saw a tall man, wrapped up ina huge cloak, coming towards them, and behind him a servant with a wholearmful of magnificent roses. It was Count Ville-Handry. Coming suddenlyface to face upon Daniel, he seemed at first very much embarrassed;then, recovering himself, he said, --

"Why, is this you? Where on earth do you come from?"

"From the theatre. "

"And you run away before the fifth act? That is a crime against themajesty of Mozart. Come, go back with me, and I promise you a pleasantsurprise. "

Brevan came up close to Daniel, and whispered to him, --

"Go; here is the opportunity I was wishing for. "

Then he lifted his hat and went his way. Daniel, taken rather bysurprise, accompanied the count till he saw him stop near a huge landau, open in spite of the cold weather, but guarded by three servants ingorgeous livery. When they saw the count, they all three uncoveredrespectfully; but he, without taking any notice of them, turned to theporter who had the flowers, and said, --

"Scatter all these roses in this carriage. "

The man hesitated. He was the servant of a famous florist, and had oftenseen people pay forty or fifty dollars for such bouquets. He thought thejoke was carried too far. However, the count insisted. The roses werepiled up in the bottom of the carriage; and, when he had done, hereceived a handsome fee for his trouble. 

Then the count returned to the opera-house, Daniel following him, filledwith amazement. Evidently love had made the count young again, and nowgave wings to his steps. He ran up the steps of the great porch of theopera-house, and in a few moments he was once more in Miss Brandon'sbox. At once he took Daniel by the hand; and, drawing him into the boxclose to the lady, he said to the young girl, --

"Permit me to present to you M. Daniel Champcey, one of our mostdistinguished naval officers. "

Daniel bowed, first to her, and then solemnly to Mrs. Brian, and long, stiff Sir Thorn. 

"I need not tell you, my dear count, " said Miss Sarah, "that yourfriends are always welcome here. "

Then, turning to Daniel, she added, --

"Besides, I have long since known you. "

"Me?"

"Yes, sir. And I even know that you are one of the most frequentvisitors at Count Ville-Handry's house. "

She looked at Daniel with a kind of malicious simplicity, and thenadded, "_I_ do not mean to say that the count would not be wrong if heattributed your frequent visits exclusively to his own merits. I haveheard something of a certain young lady"--

"Sarah, " here broke in Mrs. Brian, "what you say there is highlyimproper. " This reproof, so far from checking Miss Sarah's merriment, only seemed to increase it. Without losing sight of Daniel, she turnedto her aunt, and said, --

"Since the count is not opposed to this gentleman's paying hisattentions to his daughter, I think I may safely speak of them. It wouldbe such an extraordinary thing, if any thing should happen to interferewith his hopes!"

Daniel, who had blushed all over, suddenly became deadly pale. After allthat he had been told, these words sounded to him, in spite of the loudlaugh that accompanied them, like a warning and a threat. But he wasnot allowed the time to reflect. The piece was coming to an end; MissBrandon was drawing a fur cloak over her shoulders, and left on thecount's arm; while he had to escort Mrs. Brian, being closely followedby tall, stiff Sir Thorn. The landau was at the door. The servants hadlet down the steps; and Miss Sarah was just getting in. Suddenly, as herfoot touched the bottom of the carriage, she drew back, and cried out, --

"What is that? What is in there?"

The count came forward, looking visibly embarrassed. 

"You are fond of roses, " he said, "and I have ordered a few. "

With these words he took up some of the leaves, and showed them to her. But immediately Miss Brandon's terror was changed into wrath. 

"You certainly are bent upon making me angry, " she said. "You wantpeople to say everywhere that I make you commit all kinds of follies. What a glorious thing to waste fifty dollars on flowers, when one has Iknow not how many millions!"

Then, seeing by the light of the street-lamp that the count's faceshowed deep disappointment, she said in a tone to make him lose thelittle reason that was left him, --

"You would have been more welcome if you had brought me a cent's worthof violets. "

In the mean time Mrs. Brian had taken her seat by Miss Brandon's side;Sir Thorn had gotten in; and it was now the count's turn. At the momentwhen the servant was closing the door, Miss Sarah bent forward towardDaniel, and said, --

"I hope I shall have the pleasure of soon seeing you again. Our dearcount will give you my address, and tell you my reception-days. I musttell you that we American girls dote upon naval officers, and that I"--

The remainder was lost in the noise of the wheels. The carriage whichtook Miss Brandon and Count Ville-Handry away was already at somedistance, before Daniel could recover from his amazement, his utterconsternation. 

All these strange events, coming upon him one by one, in the course ofa few hours, and breaking suddenly in upon so calm and quiet a life, overwhelmed him to such a degree, that he was not quite sure whether hewas dreaming or awake. 

Alas! he was not dreaming. This Miss Sarah Brandon, who had just passedaway from him like a glorious vision from on high, was only too real;and there, on the muddy pavement, a handful of rose-leaves bore witnessof the power of her charms, and the folly of her aged lover. 

"Ah, we are lost!" exclaimed Daniel, in so loud a voice, that some ofthe passers-by stopped, expecting one of those street-dramas whichread so strikingly in the local columns of our papers. They weredisappointed, however. Noticing that he attracted attention, Danielshrugged his shoulders, and quickly walked off towards the boulevards. 

He had promised Henrietta to be sure to tell her that very evening, ifpossible, what he had found out; but it was too late now; midnight wasstriking. 

"I'll go to-morrow, " he said to himself. 

Whilst lounging leisurely down the boulevards, still brilliantly lightedup, and crowded with people, he strained all his faculties for thepurpose of examining his situation coolly and calmly. At first hehad imagined he should only have to do with one of those common_intriguantes_ who want to secure themselves a quiet old age, andclumsily spread their nets to catch an old or a young man; and whocan always easily be gotten rid of by paying them a more or lessconsiderable sum of money, provided the police does not get hold ofthem. In such a case he would have had some hope. 

But here he saw himself suddenly confronted by one of those formidableadventuresses in high life, who either save appearances altogether, or, at worst, are only compromised far enough to give additional zest andan air of mystery to their relations. How could he hope to compete withsuch a woman? and with what weapons could he attack her? How should hereach her? and how attack her?

Was it not pure folly to think even of making her give up themagnificent fortune which she seemed already to have in her hands, Heaven knows by what means? She evidently looked upon it as her ownalready, and enjoyed its charms in anticipation. 

"Great God!" said Daniel, "send me some inspiration. "

But no inspiration came; and in vain did he torture his mind; he wasunable to think. 

When he reached home, he went to bed as usual; but the consciousness ofhis misfortunes kept him awake. At nine o'clock in the morning, havingnever closed his eyes, and feeling utterly overcome by sleeplessness andfatigue, he was just about to get up, when some one knocked at his door. He rose hastily, put on his clothes, and went to open the door. It wasM. De Brevan, who came to hear all about his new acquaintance of lastnight, and whose first word was, --

"Well?"

"Alas!" replied Daniel, "I think the wisest plan would be to give itup. "

"Upon my word, you are in great haste to surrender. "

"And what would you do in my place, eh? That woman has beauty enough todrive any one mad; and the count is a lost man. "

And, before Maxime had time to reply, Daniel told him simply andfrankly all about his love for Miss Ville-Handry, the hopes he had beenencouraged to cherish, and the dangers that threatened his happiness inlife. 

"For I can no longer deceive myself, Maxime, " he concluded with a toneof utter despair. "I foresee, I know, what is going to happen. Henriettawill obstinately, and at any risk, do every thing in the world toprevent her father's marriage with Miss Brandon; she will struggle tothe bitter end. Ought I, or ought I not, to help her? Certainly. Can wesucceed? No! But we shall have a mortal enemy in Miss Brandon; and, onthe morning after her wedding, her first thought will be how to avengeherself, and how to separate Henrietta and myself forever. "

Little as Brevan was generally given to show his feelings, he wasevidently deeply touched by his friend's despair. 

"In short, my dear fellow, you have reached the point at which we nolonger know what to do. All the more reason, then, that you shouldlisten to the calm advice of a friend. You must have yourself presentedat Miss Brandon's house. "

"She has invited me. "

"Well, then, do not hesitate, but go there. "

"What for?"

"Not for much. You will pay some compliments to Miss Sarah; you willbe all attention to Mrs. Brian; and you will try to win over the Hon. Thomas Elgin. Finally, and above all, you will be all ears and alleyes. "

"I am sorry to say I do not understand you yet. "

"What? Don't you see that the position of these daring adventurers, however secure it may appear, may, after all, hang on a singlethread? and that nothing is wanting in order to cut that thread but anopportunity? And when you may expect, at any moment, any thing and everything, what is to be done but to wait and watch?"

Daniel did not seem to be convinced. He added, --

"Miss Sarah will talk to me about her marriage. "

"Certainly she will. "

"What can I say?"

"Nothing, --neither yes nor no, --but smile, or run away; at all events, you gain time. "

He was interrupted by Daniel's servant, who came in, holding a card inhis hand, and said, --

"Sir, there is a gentleman down stairs in a carriage, who wants to knowif he would interrupt you if he came up to see you. "

"What is the gentleman's name?"

"Count Ville-Handry. Here is his card. "

"Be quick!" said Daniel, "run down and ask him, would he please comeup. "

M. De Brevan had started up, and was standing, with his hat on, near thedoor. As the servant left, he said, --

"I am running away. "

"Why?"

"Because the count must not find me here. You would be compelled tointroduce me to him; he might remember my name; and, if he were to tellMiss Sarah that I am your friend, all would be lost. "

Thereupon he turned to go; but at the same moment the outer door wasopened, and he said, --

"There is the count! I am caught. "

But Daniel opened promptly the door to his bedroom, pushed him in, andshut the door. It was high time; the same moment the count entered. 

VI. 

The count must have risen early that day. Although it was not yet teno'clock, he was already brilliant, rouged, dyed, and frizzed. Of courseall these results had not been the work of an hour. As he entered, hedrew a long breath, and said, --

"Ah! You live pretty high up, my dear Daniel. "

Poor fellow! He forgot that he was playing the young man. But herecalled himself at once, and added, full of vivacity, --

"Not that I complain of it; oh, no! A few stories to climb--what is thatto me?"

At the same time he stretched out his leg, and caressed his calf, as ifto exhibit its vigor and its suppleness. In the meantime, Daniel, fullof respect for his future father-in-law, had drawn forward his easiestarm-chair. The count took it, and in an airy manner, which contrastedill with his evident embarrassment, he said, --

"I am sure, my dear Daniel, you must be very much surprised and puzzledto see me here; are you not?"

"I confess, sir, I am. If you wished to speak to me, you had only todrop me a line, and I should have waited upon you at once. "

"I am sure you would! But that is not necessary. In fact, I have nothingto say to you. I should not have come to see you, if I had not missed anappointment. I was to meet one of my fellow members of the assembly, andhe did not come to the place where we were to meet. On my return home, I happened to pass your house; and I said to myself, 'Why not go up andsee my sailor friend? I might ask him what he thinks of a certain younglady to whom he had, last night, the honor of being presented. '"

Now or never was the favorable moment for following Maxime's advice;hence Daniel, instead of replying, simply smiled as pleasantly as hecould. 

But that did not satisfy the count; so he repeated the question moredirectly, and said, --

"Come, tell us frankly, what do you think of Miss Brandon?"

"She is one of the greatest beauties I have ever seen in my life. "

Count Ville-Handry's eyes beamed with delight and with pride as he heardthese words. He exclaimed, --

"Say she is the greatest beauty, the most marvellous and transcendentbeauty, you ever saw. And that, M. Daniel Champcey, is her smallestattraction. When she opens her lips, the charms of her mind, beauty andher mind, and remember her admirable ingenuousness, her naive freshness, and all the treasures of her chaste and pure soul. "

This excessive, almost idiotic admiration, this implicit, absurd faithin his beloved, gave the painted face of the count a strange, almostecstatic expression. He said to himself, but loud enough to be heard, --

"And to think that chance alone has led me to meet this angel!"

A sudden start, involuntary on the part of Daniel, seemed to disturbhim; for he resumed his speech, laying great stress upon his words, --

"Yes, chance alone; and I can prove it to you. "

He settled down in his chair like a man who is going to speak for somelength of time; and, in that emphatic manner which so well expressed thehigh opinion he had of himself, he continued, --

"You know, my friend, how deeply I was affected by the death of theCountess Ville-Handry. It is true she was not exactly the companion astatesman of my rank would have chosen. Her whole capacity rarely rosebeyond the effort to distinguish a ball-dress from a dinner-dress. But she was a good woman, attentive, discreet, and devoted to me; anexcellent manager, economical, and yet always sure to do honor to thehigh reputation of my house. "

Thus, in all sincerity, the count spoke of her who had literally madehim, and who, for sixteen long years, had galvanized his empty head. 

"In short, " he continued, "the loss of my wife so completely upset me, that I lost all taste for the occupations which had so far been dearto me; and I set about to find distractions elsewhere. Soon after I hadgotten into the habit of going frequently to my club, I fell in withM. Thomas Elgin, and, although we never became intimate, we alwaysexchanged a friendly greeting, and occasionally a cigar. 

"Sir Thorn, as they call him, is an excellent horseman, you know, andused to ride out every morning at an early hour; and as the physicianshad recommended to me horseback exercise, and as I like it, because Iexcel in riding, as in every thing else, we often met in the Bois deBoulogne. We wished each other good-day; and sometimes we galloped alittle while side by side. I am rather reserved; but Sir Thorn is evenmore so, and thus it did not seem that our acquaintance was ever toripen into any thing better, till an accident brought us together. 

"One morning we were returning slowly from a long ride, when Sir Thorn'smare, a foolish brute, suddenly shied, and jumped so high, that he wasthrown. I jumped down instantly to help him up again; but he could notrise. You know nothing ordinarily hurts these Americans. But itseems, as we found out afterwards, that he had sprained an ankle, anddislocated a knee. There was no one near the place; and I began to beseriously embarrassed, when fortunately two soldiers appeared. I calledto them, and sent one on my horse to the nearest hack-stand to bring acarriage. As soon as it came, we raised the invalid, and put him inas well as we could; I got on the box to show the man the way to SirThorn's house. When we arrived there, I rang the bell, and toldthe servants to come down to their master. They got him, with somedifficulty, out of the hack; and there they were, carrying him painfullyup the stairs, and he groaning feebly, for he suffered terribly. 

"I was going up before them; and, as I reached the second story, a doorsuddenly opened, and a young girl was standing right before me. 

"She was evidently dressing, when the noise which we made startledher; and she came running out. She had only taken time to throw a loosewrapper around her shoulders; and her dishevelled hair streamed out fromunder a kind of coquettish morning-cap. 

"When she saw her kinsman in the arms of the servants, she imagined hewas dangerously wounded, perhaps even--She turned as pale as death, and, uttering a loud cry, she tottered. 

"She would have fallen down the steps, head foremost, if I had notcaught her in my arms. She had fainted. And there I held her, leaningon my shoulder, so close that I became aware of the warmth of her lovelybody, and actually felt her heart beat against mine. Her cap had becomeunfastened; and her hair fell in golden floods all over me, and down tothe floor. But all this lasted only a few seconds. 

"When she recovered, and found herself in the arms of a man, she rosewith an air of extreme distress, and, slipping away, disappeared in herroom. "

At the mere description of this scene, the count turned pale underhis rouge; and his voice forsook him. Nor did he in any way attempt toconceal his emotion. 

"I am a poor old fellow, " he said; "and between you and me, my dearDaniel, I will tell you that the women--well--the women have notbeen--exactly cruel to me. In fact, I thought I had outlived all theemotions which they can possibly give us. 

"Well, I was mistaken. Never in my life, I assure you, have I felt sucha deep sensation as when Miss Brandon was lying in my arms. "

While saying this, he had pulled out his handkerchief, saturated witha strong perfume, and was wiping his forehead, though very gently, andwith infinite precautions, so as not to spoil the artistic work of hisvalet. 

"You will know Miss Brandon, " he went on, "I hope soon. Once having seenher, one wants to see her again. I was lucky enough to have a pretextfor coming again; and the very next day I was at her door, inquiringafter M. Thomas Elgin. They showed me into the room of that excellentgentleman, where I found him stretched out on an invalid's chair, withhis legs all bandaged up. By his side sat a venerable lady, to whom hepresented me, and who was no other than Mrs. Brian. 

"They received me very kindly, although with some little reserve underall their politeness; but I staid and staid in vain beyond the propertime; Miss Sarah did not appear. 

"Nor did I see her upon subsequent occasions, when I repeated my visits, until at last I came to the conclusion that she avoided me purposely. 

"Upon my word, I believed it. But one day Sir Thorn, who was improvingvery rapidly, expressed a desire to walk out a few steps in the ChampsElysees. I offered him my arm; he accepted it; and, when we came back, he asked me if I would be kind enough to take pot-luck with him. "

However important these communications were for Daniel, he was for sometime already listening but very inattentively to the count's recital, for he had heard a strange, faint noise, which he could not by anymeans explain to himself. At last, looking all around, he discovered thecause. 

The door to his bedroom, which he was sure he had closed himself, was now standing partly open. No doubt M. De Brevan, weary of hisconfinement and excited by curiosity, had chosen this way to see andto listen. Of all this, however, Count Ville-Handry saw nothing, andsuspected nothing. 

"Thus, " he continued, "I was at last to see Miss Sarah again. Upon myword, I was less excited, I think, the day I made my first speech. Butyou know I have some power over myself; and I had recovered my calmness, when Sir Thorn confessed to me that he would have invited me long since, but for the fear of offending his young relative, who had declared shewould never meet me again. I was grieved, and asked how I had offendedher. And then Sir Thorn, with that marvellous composure which neverleaves him, said, 'It is not you she blames, but herself, on account ofthat ridiculous scene the other day. '

"Do you hear, Daniel, he called that adorable scene which I have justdescribed to you, ridiculous! It is only Americans who can commit suchabsurdities. 

"I have since found out that they had almost to force Miss Brandon toreceive me; but she had tact enough not to let me see it, when I wasformally presented to her, just before going to dinner. It is true, sheblushed deeply; but she took my hand with the utmost cordiality, and cutme short when I was trying to pay her some compliment, saying, --

"'You are Thorn's friend; I am sure we shall be friends also. '

"Ah, Daniel! you admired Miss Brandon at the theatre; but you oughtto see her at her house. Abroad she sacrifices herself in order to payproper regard to the world; but at home she can venture to be herself. 

"We soon became friends, as she had foretold, so soon, in fact, thatI was quite surprised when I found her addressing me like an oldacquaintance. I soon discovered how that came about. 

"Our young girls here in France, my dear Daniel, are charming, no doubt, but generally ill taught, frivolous, and caring for nothing but balls, novels, or dress. The Americans are very different. Their seriousminds are occupied with the same subjects which fill their parents'minds, --with politics, industry, discussions in the assembly, discoveries in science, &c. A man like myself, known abroad and athome during a long political career of some distinction, could not be astranger to Miss Brandon. My earnestness in defending those causes whichI considered just had often filled her with enthusiasm. Deeply movedby my speeches, which she was in the habit of reading, she had oftenthought of the speaker. I think I can hear her now say with thatbeautiful voice of hers, which has the clear ring of pure crystal, --

"'Oh, yes! I knew you, count; I knew you long ago. And there was many aday when I wished I were a friend of yours, so that I might say to you, "Well done, sir! what you are doing is grand, is noble!"'

"And that was true; for she remembered a number of passages from myspeeches, even from such as I had forgotten myself; and she alwaysquoted them literally. At times, I was amazed at some peculiarly boldthoughts which she uttered; and, when I complimented her upon them, shebroke out in loud laughter, and said, --

"'Why, count, these are your own ideas; I got them from you. You said soon such and such an occasion. '

"And when I looked at night, after my return, into my papers, toascertain the fact, I found almost always that Miss Brandon had beenright. Need I tell you after that, that I soon became an almost dailyvisitor at the house in Circus Street? Surely you take it for granted. 

"But what I must tell you is, that I found there the most perfecthappiness, and the purest that I have ever known upon earth. I wasfilled with respect and with admiration, when I looked at their rigidmorality, united with the heartiest cheerfulness. There I enjoyed myhappiest hours, between Mrs. Brian, the Puritan lady, so strict forherself, so indulgent for others; and Thomas Elgin, the noblest and bestof men, who conceals under an appearance of icy coldness the warmest andkindest of hearts. "

What was Count Ville-Handry aiming at? or had he no aim at all?

Had he come merely to confide to Daniel the amazing romance of his love?Or did he simply yield to the natural desire of all lovers, to pour outthe exuberance of their feelings, and to talk of their love, even whenthey know that their indiscretion may be fatal to their success?

Daniel put these questions to himself; but the count did not leave himtime to reflect, and to answer them. 

After a short pause, he seemed to rouse himself, and said, suddenlychanging his tone, --

"I guess what you think, my dear Daniel. You say to yourself, 'CountVille-Handry was in love. ' Well, I assure you you are mistaken. "

Daniel started from his chair; and, overcome by amazement, heexclaimed, --

"Can it be possible?"

"Exactly so; I give you my word of honor. The feelings which attractedme toward Miss Brandon were the same that bound me to my daughter. Butas I am a shrewd observer, and have some knowledge of the human heart, I could not help being struck by a change in Miss Brandon's face, andespecially in her manner. After having treated me with the greatestfreedom and familiarity, she had suddenly become reserved, and almostcold. It was evident to me that she was embarrassed in my presence. Ourconstant intercourse, so far from reassuring her, seemed to frightenher. You may guess how I interpreted this change, my dear Daniel. 

"But, as I have never been a conceited man, I thought I might bemistaken. I devoted myself, therefore, to more careful observation;and I soon became aware, that, if I loved Miss Brandon only with theaffection of a father, I had succeeded in inspiring her with a moretender sentiment. "

In any other person, this senile self-conceit would have appearedintensely absurd to Daniel; in his Henrietta's father, it painedhim deeply. The count actually noticed his downcast look, and, misinterpreting it, asked him, --

"Could you doubt what I say?"

"Oh, no, sir!"

"Very well, then. I can assure you, at all events, that this discoverytroubled me not a little. I was so surprised by it, that for three daysI could neither think of it coolly, nor decide on what I ought to do. Still it was necessary I should make up my mind. I did not for a momentthink of abusing the confidence of this innocent child; and yet I knew, I felt it, she was absolutely in my power. But no! It would have beeninfamous in me to repay the hospitality of excellent Mrs. Brian, and thekindness of noble M. Elgin, with such ingratitude. On the other hand, must I necessarily deny myself my pleasant visits at the house in CircusStreet, and break with friends who were so dear to me? I thought ofthat, also; but I had not the courage to do so. "

He hesitated for a moment, trying to read in Daniel's eyes his realopinion. After a while, he said very gravely, --

"It was then only, that the idea of marrying her occurred to me. "

Daniel had been expecting the fatal word; thus, however heavy the blowwas, it found him prepared. He remained immovable. 

This indifference seemed to surprise the count; for he uttered anexpression of discontent, and curtly repeated, --

"Yes, I thought of marrying her. You will say, 'That was a seriousmatter. ' I know that only too well; and therefore I did not decidethe question in a hurry, but weighed the reasons for and against verycarefully. I am not one of those weak men, you know, I am sure, who caneasily be hoodwinked, and who fancy they alone possess the secret ofperennial youth. No, no, I know myself, and am fully aware, better thananybody else, that I am approaching maturer years. 

"This was, in fact, the first objection that arose in my mind. But thenI answered it triumphantly by the fact that age is not a matter to bedecided by the certificate of baptism, but that we are just as old as weappear to be. Now, thanks to an exceptionally sober and peaceful life, of which forty years were spent in the country, to an iron constitution, and to the extreme care I have always taken of my health, I possessa--what shall I say?--a vigor which many young men might envy, who canhardly drag one foot after the other. "

He rose as he said this, threw out his chest, straightened his back, and stretched out his well-shaped leg. Then, when he thought Daniel hadsufficiently admired him, he continued, --

"Now, what of Miss Brandon? You think, perhaps, she is still in herteens? Far from that! She is at least twenty-five, my dear friend; and, for a woman, twenty-five years are--ah, ah!"

He smiled ironically, as if to say that to him a woman of twenty-fiveappeared an old, a very old woman. Then he went on, --

"Besides, I know how serious her disposition is, and her eminent goodsense. You may rely upon me, when I tell you I have studied her. Athousand trifles, of no weight in appearance, and unnoticed by herselfin all probability, have told me that she abhors very young men. She haslearnt to appreciate the value of young husbands of thirty, who are allfire and flame in the honeymoon, and who, six months later, wearied withpure and tranquil happiness, seek their delights elsewhere. It is notonly of late that I have found out how truly she values what is, afterall, most desirable in this world, --a great name worthily borne by atrue man, and a reputation that would shed new radiance upon her. Howoften have I heard her say to Mrs. Brian, 'Above all, aunt, I want tobe proud of my husband; I want to see everybody's eye sparkle withadmiration and envy as soon as I mention his name, which will havebecome mine also; I want people to whisper around me, "Ah, how happy sheis to be loved by such a man!"'"

He shook his head gravely, and said in a solemn tone, --

"I examined myself, Daniel, and found that I answered all of MissBrandon's expectations; and the result of my meditations was, that Iwould be a madman to allow such happiness to escape me, and that I wasbound to risk every thing. I made up my mind, therefore, firmly, andwent to M. Elgin in order to make him aware of my intentions. I cannotdescribe to you the amazement of that worthy gentleman. 

"'You are joking, ' he said at first, 'and that pains me deeply. '

"But, when he saw that I had never in my life spoken more seriously, he, who is usually so phlegmatic, became perfectly furious. As if I wouldhave come to him, if, by some impossible accident, I should havebeen unhappy in my choice! But I fell from the clouds when he told meoutright that he meant to do all he could do to prevent such a match. Nor would he give up his purpose, say what I could; and I had to useall my skill to make him change his mind. At last, after more than twohours' discussion, all that I could obtain from him was the promisethat he would remain neutral, and that he would leave to Mrs. Brian theresponsibility of refusing or accepting my offer. "

He laughed, this good Count Ville-Handry, he laughed heartily, no doubtrecalling his discussion with Sir Thorn, and his triumphant skill. 

"So, " he resumed, "I went to Mrs. Brian. Ah! she did not mince matters. At the first word, she called me--God forgive her!--an old fool, andplainly told me that I must never show myself again in Circus Street. 

"I insisted; but in vain. She would not even listen to me, the oldPuritan; and, when I became pressing, she dropped me a solemn curtsey, and left me alone in the room, looking foolish enough, I am sure. 

"For the time, I had nothing to do but to go away. I did so, hoping thather interview with her niece might induce her to change her mind. Not atall. The next morning, when I called at the house, the servants saidSir Thorn was out, and Mrs. Brian and Miss Brandon had just left forFontainebleau. The day after, the same result; and for a whole week thedoors remained closed. 

"I was becoming restless, when a commissionaire, one morning, broughtme a letter. It was Miss Brandon who wrote. She asked me to be that veryday, at four o'clock, in the Bois de Boulogne, near the waterfalls;that she would ride out in the afternoon with Sir Thorn; that she wouldescape from him, and meet me. 

"As a matter of course, I was punctual; and it was well I was so, for, a few minutes after I got there, I saw her--or rather I felt her--comingtowards me, riding at full speed. When she reached me, she stoppedsuddenly, and, jumping from her horse, said to me, --

"'They watch me so jealously, that I could not write to you till to-day. I am deeply wounded by this want of confidence, and I do not think I canendure it any longer. Here I am, carry me off, let us go!'

"Never, O Daniel! never have I seen her look more marvellously beautifulthan she looked at that moment. She was flushed with excitement and therapid ride; her eyes shone with courage and passion; her lips trembled;and then she said again, --

"'I know I am ruining myself; and you yourself--you will probablydespise me. But never mind! Let us be gone!'"

He paused, overcome with excitement; but, soon recovering, hecontinued, --

"To hear a beautiful woman tell you that! Ah, Daniel! that is anexperience which alone is worth a man's whole life. And yet I had thecourage, mad as I felt I was becoming, to speak to her words of calmreason. Yes, I had the sublime courage, and the almost fortuitouscontrol over myself, to conjure her to retreat into her house. 

"She began to weep, and accused me of indifference. 

"But I had discovered a way out of the difficulty, and said to her, --

"'Sarah, go home. Write to me what you have just told me, and I am sureI shall compel your friends to grant me your hand. '

"This she did. 

"And what I had foreseen came to pass. In the face of such evidence ofwhat they called our madness, Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian dared not opposeour plans any longer. After some little hesitations, and imposingcertain honorable conditions, they said to Sarah and myself, --

"'You will have it so. Go, then, and get married. '"

This is what Count Ville-Handry called chance, a "blessed chance, " ashe said, utterly unmindful of the whole chain of circumstances which hehimself related. From the accident that had befallen M. Elgin, and thefainting-fit of Miss Brandon, to the meeting in the Bois de Boulogneand the proposed runaway-match, all seemed to him perfectly natural andsimple, --even the sudden enthusiasm of a young, frivolous woman for hispolitical opinions, and the learning by heart of his speeches. 

Daniel was amazed. That a man like the count should be so perfectlyblind to the intrigue that was going on around him, seemed to himincomprehensible. The count, however, was not so blind, that he shouldnot have at least suspected the nature of Daniel's feelings. 

"What are you thinking of?" he asked. "Come, let us hear your opinion. Tell us frankly that you suspect Miss Brandon, and accuse her of tryingto catch me in her snares, or, at least, of having selfish views. "

"I do not say so, " stammered Daniel. 

"No, but you think so; and that is worse. Well, come; I think I canconvince you of your mistake. What do you think Miss Brandon would gainby marrying me? A fortune, you say. I have only one word in reply; butthat is sufficient; Miss Brandon is richer than I am. "

How, and at what price, Miss Brandon had managed to possess herself ofsuch a fortune, Daniel knew but too well from Maxime's account; hence hecould not suppress a nervous shudder, which the count noticed, and whichirritated him. 

"Yes, richer than I am, " he repeated. "The oil-wells which she hasinherited from her father bring her in, bad years and good years, fromthirty to forty thousand dollars a year, and that in spite of theirbeing sadly mismanaged. If they were well managed, they would produce, three, four, or five times as much, or even more. Sir Thorn has provedto me that they are an almost inexhaustible mine of wealth. If petroleumwas not fabulously profitable, how would you account for the oil-feverwith which these cool, calculating Americans have suddenly been seized, and which has made more millionaires than the gold-fever in Californiaand the Territories? Ah! there is something to be made there yet, andsomething grand, if one could dispose of a large capital. "

He became excited, and forgot himself; but he soon checked himself. Hehad evidently been on the point of letting a secret leak out. After afew moments, he continued more calmly, --

"But enough of that. I trust your suspicions are removed. Next youmay tell me that Miss Brandon takes me because she can do no better. Mistaken again, my friend. At this very moment she is called upon tochoose between me and a much younger man than I am, whose fortune, moreover, is larger than mine, --Mr. Wilkie Gordon. "

How did it come about that Count Ville-Handry seemed to appeal toDaniel, and to plead his cause before him? Daniel did not even thinkof asking himself that question; his mind was in a state of utterconfusion. Still, as the count insisted on having his opinion, as heurged him, and repeatedly asked, "Well, do you see any other objection?"he forgot at last his friend's prudent warning, and said in a troubledvoice, --

"No doubt, count, you know Miss Brandon's family?"

"Certainly! Do you think I would buy a cat in a bag? Her excellentfather was a model of honesty. "

"And--her previous life?"

The count started from his chair, and, casting a savage glance atDaniel, said, --

"Oh, oh! I see one of those rascally slanderers, who have tried totarnish the honor of the noblest and chastest of all women, has alreadybeen at work here, anticipating my communication to you, and repeatingthose infamous calumnies. You must give me the name of the scoundrel. "

Unconsciously, almost, Daniel turned towards the door, behind whichM. De Brevan was listening. Perhaps he expected him to come forth; butMaxime did not stir. 

"Sarah's previous life!" continued the count. "I know every hour of it;and I can answer for it as for my own. The darling! Before consentingto be mine, she insisted upon my knowing every thing, yes, every thing, without reserve or boastfulness; and I know what she has suffered. Didthey not actually say she had been the accomplice of a wretched thief, acashier of some bank, who had become a defaulter? Did they not say thatshe had driven a foolish young man, a gambler, to commit suicide; andthat she had watched, unmoved, the tortures of his agony? Ah! youhave only to look at Miss Brandon to know that these vile stories arewretched inventions of malicious enemies and rivals. And look here, Daniel; you may believe me; whenever you see people calumniate a manor a woman, you may rest assured that that man or woman has, somehowor other, wounded or humiliated some vulgar person, some mean, enviousfool, who cannot endure his or her superiority in point of fortune, rank, or beauty and talent. "

He had actually recovered his youthful energy in thus defending hisbeloved. His eye brightened up; his voice became strong, and hisgestures animated. 

"But no more of that painful topic, " he said: "let us talk seriously. "

He rose, and leaning on the mantelpiece, so as to face Daniel, hesaid, --

"I told you, my dear Daniel, that Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian insisted uponcertain conditions before they consented to our marriage. One is, thatMiss Brandon is to be received by my relations as she deserves tobe, not only respectfully, but affectionately, even tenderly. As torelations, there is not any. I have some remote cousins, who, havingnothing to expect from me when I die, do not trouble themselves any moreabout me than I trouble myself about them. But I have a daughter; andthere is the danger. I know she is distressed at the idea of my marryingagain. She cannot bear the mere idea that another woman is to take theplace of her mother, to bear her name, and to rule in my house. "

Daniel began at last to know what he had to understand by thatunsuccessful appointment which had procured him the pleasure of a visitfrom Count Ville-Handry. 

"Now, " continued the latter, "I know my daughter. She is her mother overagain, weak, but obstinate beyond endurance. If she has taken it intoher head to receive Miss Brandon uncivilly, she will do so, in spite ofall she has promised me, and she will make a terrible scene of it. And if Miss Brandon consents, in spite of all, to go on, my house willbecome a hell to me, and my wife will suffer terribly. Now the questionis, whether I have sufficient influence over Henrietta to bring her toreason. I think not. But this influence which I have not--a very niceyoung man may have it; and that man is you. "

Daniel had turned red. It was for the first time that the count spoke soclearly. He went on, --

"I have never disapproved of my poor wife's plans; and the proof is, that I have allowed you to pay your attentions to my daughter. But now Imake this condition: if my daughter is to Miss Brandon what she oughtto be to her, a tender and devoted sister, then, six months after mywedding, there shall be another wedding at my house. "

Daniel was about to speak; but he stopped him, saying, --

"No, not a word! I have shown you the wisdom of my decision, and you mayact accordingly. "

He had already put on his hat and opened the door, when he added, --

"Ah! one word more. Miss Brandon has asked me to present you to herto-night. She wants to speak to you. Come and dine with me; and afterdinner we will go to Circus Street. Now, pray think of what I have toldyou, and good-by!"

VII. 

Count Ville-Handry had hardly closed the door, when M. De Brevan rushedout of the bedroom in which he had been concealed. 

"Was I right?" he exclaimed. 

But Daniel did not hear him. He had forgotten his very presence. Overcome by the great effort he had made to conceal his emotions, he hadsunk into a chair, hiding his face in his hands, and said to himselfin a mournful voice, and as if trying to convince himself of anoverwhelming fact, --

"The count has lost his mind altogether, and we are lost. "

The grief of this excellent young man was so great and so bitter, thatM. De Brevan seemed to be deeply moved. He looked at him for sometime with an air of pity, and then suddenly, as if yielding to a goodimpulse, he touched his shoulder, and said, --

"Daniel!"

The unhappy man started like one who has suddenly been roused from deepslumber; and, as he recalled what had just happened, he said, --

"You have heard all, Maxime?"

"All! I have not lost a word nor a gesture. But do not blame me for myindiscretion. It enables me to give you some friendly advice. You know Ihave paid dear for my experience. "

He hesitated, being at a loss how to express his ideas; then hecontinued in a short, sharp tone, --

"You love Miss Ville-Handry?"

"More than my life, don't you know?"

"Well, if that is so, abandon all thoughts of useless resistance; induceMiss Henrietta to do as her father wishes; and persuade Miss Brandon tolet your wedding take place a month after her own. But ask for specialpledges. Miss Ville-Handry may suffer somewhat during that month; butthe day after your wedding you will carry her off to your own home, andleave the poor old man to his amorous folly. "

Daniel showed in his face that this suggestion opened a new prospectbefore him. 

"I had not thought of that, " he said. 

"It is all you can do. "

"Yes, it is what prudence would advise me to do. But can I do so inhonor?"

"Oh, honor, honor!"

"Would it not be wrong in me to abandon the poor old man to the mercy ofMiss Brandon and her accomplices?"

"You will never be able to rescue him, my dear fellow. "

"I ought at least to try. You thought so yesterday, and even thismorning, not two hours ago. "

Maxime could scarcely hide his impatience. 

"I did not know then what I know now, " he said. 

Daniel had risen, and was walking up and down the small room, replyingto his own objections, rather than to those raised by Brevan. 

"If I were alone master, " he said, "I might, perhaps, agree to acapitulation. But could Henrietta accept it? Never, never! Her fatherknows her well. She is as weak as a child; but at the proper moment shecan develop a masculine energy and an iron will. "

"Why should you tell her at all who Miss Brandon is?"

"I have pledged my word of honor to tell her every thing. "

Brevan again shrugged his shoulders, and there was no mistaking what hemeant by that gesture. He might just as well have said aloud, "Can oneconceive such stupidity?"

"Then you had better give up your Henrietta, my poor fellow, " he said. 

But Daniel's despair had been overcome. He ground his teeth with anger, and said, --

"Not yet, my friend, not yet! An honest man who defends his honor andhis life is pretty strong. I have no experience, that is true; but Ihave you, Maxime; and I know I can always count upon you. "

Daniel did not seem to have noticed that M. De Brevan, at first all fireand energy, had rapidly cooled off, like a man, who, having ventured toofar, thinks he has made a mistake, and tries to retrace his steps. 

"Certainly you may count upon me, " he replied; "but what can be done?"

"Well, what you said yourself. I shall call upon Miss Brandon, and watchher. I shall dissemble, and gain time. If necessary, I shall employdetectives, and find out her antecedents. I shall try to interest somehigh personage in my behalf, --my minister, for instance, who is verykind to me. Besides, I have an idea. "

"Ah!"

"That unlucky cashier, whose story you told me, and who, you think, isnot dead--if we could find him. How did you call him? Oh, Malgat! Anadvertisement inserted in all the leading newspapers of Europe would, nodoubt, reach him; and the hope of seeing himself avenged"--

M. De Brevan's cheeks began to redden perceptibly. He broke out withstrange vehemence, --

"What nonsense!"

Then he added, more collectedly, --

"You forget that Malgat has been sentenced to I know not how many years'penal servitude, and that he will see in your advertisement a trick ofthe police; so that he will only conceal himself more carefully thanever. "

But Daniel was not so easily shaken. He said, --

"I will think it over. I will see. Perhaps something might be done withthat young man whom the count mentioned, that M. Wilkie Gordon. If Ithought he was really anxious for Miss Brandon's hand"--

"I have heard it said, and I am sure it is so, the young man is one ofthose idiots whom vanity renders insane, and who do not know what to doin order to make themselves notorious. Miss Brandon being very famous, he would marry her, just as he would pay a hundred thousand dollars fora famous racer. "

"And how do you account for Miss Brandon's refusal?"

"By the character of the man, whom I know very well, and whom she knowsas well. She is quite aware that, three months after the wedding, hewould decamp, and in less than a year she would be divorced. Then thereis another thing: Wilkie is only twenty-five years old; and you know afellow at that age is likely to live a good deal longer than a lover whois beyond the sixties. "

The way in which he said this lent to his words a terrible significance;and Daniel, turning pale, stammered out, --

"Great God! Do you think Miss Brandon could"--

"Could do anything, most assuredly, --except, perhaps, get into troublewith the police. I have heard her say that only fools employ poison orthe dagger. "

A strange smile passed over his lips; and he added in a tone of horribleirony, --

"It is true there are other means, less prompt, perhaps, but much safer, by which people may be removed when they become inconvenient. 

"What means? The same, no doubt, which she had employed to get ridof poor Kergrist, and that unlucky Malgat, the cashier of the MutualDiscount Society. Purely moral means, based upon her thorough knowledgeof the character of her victims, and her own infernal power over them. "

But Daniel tried in vain to obtain more light from his friend. Brevananswered evasively; perhaps because he did not dare to speak out freely, and reveal his real thoughts; or because it lay in his plans tobe content with having added this horrible fear to all the otherapprehensions of his friend. 

His embarrassment, just now unmistakable, had entirely disappeared, asif he had come to a final decision after long hesitation. He who hadfirst advised all kinds of concessions now suggested the most energeticresistance, and seemed to be confident of success. 

When he at last left Daniel, he had made him promise to keep him hourby hour informed of all that might happen, and, above all, to try everymeans in his power to unmask Miss Brandon. 

"How he hates her!" said Daniel to himself when he was alone, --"how hehates her!"

But this very hatred, which had already troubled him the night before, now disturbed him more and more, and kept him from coming to anydecision. The more he reflected, the more it seemed to him that Maximehad allowed himself to be carried away beyond what was probable, oreven possible. The last accusation, especially, seemed to him perfectlymonstrous. 

A young and beautiful woman, consumed by ambition and covetousness, might possibly play a comedy of pure love while she was disgusted in herheart. She might catch by vile tricks a foolish old man, and make himmarry her, openly and avowedly selling her beauty and her youth. Suchthings happen, and are excused by the morality of our day. The samewicked, heartless woman might speculate upon becoming speedily a widow, and thus regaining her liberty, together with a large fortune. This alsohappens, however horrible it may appear. But that she should marry apoor old fool, with the preconceived purpose of hastening his end by adeliberate crime, there was a depth in that wickedness which terrifiedDaniel's imagination. 

Deeply ensconced in his chair, he was losing himself in conjectures, forgetting how time passed, and how his work was waiting for him, eventhe invitation to dinner which the count had given to him, and theprospect of being introduced that very evening to Miss Brandon. Nightcame; and then only his concierge, who came in to see what had become ofhim all day long, aroused him from his torpor. 

"Ah, I am losing my senses!" he exclaimed, rising suddenly. "AndHenrietta, who has been waiting for me--what must she think of me?"

Miss Ville-Handry, at that very moment, had reached that degree ofanxiety which becomes well-nigh intolerable. After having waited forDaniel all the evening of the day before, and after having spent asleepless night, she had surely expected him to-day, counting theseconds by the beating of her heart, and starting at the noise of everycarriage in the street. In her despair, knowing hardly what she wasdoing, she was thinking of running herself to University Street, toDaniel's house, when the door opened. 

In the same indifferent tone in which he announced friends and enemies, the servant said, --

"M. Daniel Champcey. "

Henrietta was up in a moment. She was about to exclaim, --

"What has kept you? What has happened?" But the words died away on herlips. 

It had been sufficient for her to look at Daniel's sad face to feel thata great misfortune had befallen her. 

"Ah! you had been right in your fears, " she said, sinking into a chair. 

"Alas!"

"Speak: let me know all. "

"Your father has come to me, and offered me your hand, Henrietta, provided I can obtain your consent to his marriage with Miss Brandon. Now, listen to me; and then you can decide. "

Faithful to his promise, he thereupon told her every thing he hadlearned from Maxime and the count, suppressing only those details whichwould have made the poor girl blush, and also that terrible charge whichhe was unwilling to believe. 

When he had ended, Henrietta said warmly, --

"What! I should allow my father to marry such a creature? I should sitstill and smile when such dishonor and such ruin are coming to a houseover which my mother has presided! No; far be it from me ever to be soselfish! I shall oppose Miss Brandon's plans with all my strength andall my energy. "

"She may triumph, after all. "

"She shall not triumph over my resistance and my contempt. Never--do youhear me, Daniel?--never will I bow down before her. Never shall my handtouch hers. And, if my father persists, I shall ask him, the day beforehis wedding, to allow me to bury myself in a convent. "

"He will not let you go. "

"Then I shall shut myself up in my room, and never leave it again. I donot think they will drag me out by force. "

There was no mistaking it; she spoke with an earnestness and adetermination which nothing could shake or break. And yet the verysaddest presentiments oppressed Daniel's heart. He said, --

"But Miss Brandon will certainly not come alone to this house. "

"Whom will she bring with her?"

"Her relatives, M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Oh Henrietta, dearestHenrietta! to think that you should be exposed to the spite and thepersecution of these wretches!"

She raised her head proudly, and replied, --

"I am not afraid of them. " Then she added in a gentler tone, --

"Besides, won't you always be near me, to advise me, and to protect mein case of danger?"

"I? Don't you think they will try to part us soon enough?"

"No, Daniel, I know very well that the house will no longer be open toyou. "

"Well?"

The poor girl blushed up to the roots of her hair, and, turning her. Eyes away from him to avoid his looks, she said, --

"Since they force us to do so, I must needs do a thing a girl, properlyspeaking, ought not to do. We will meet secretly. I shall have to stoopto win over one of my waiting-women, who may be discreet and obligingenough to aid me, and, through her, I will write to you, and receiveyour letters. "

But this arrangement did not relieve Daniel from his terribleapprehensions. There was a question which constantly rose to his lips, and which still he did not dare to utter. At last, making a greateffort, he asked, --

"And then?"

Henrietta understood perfectly what he meant. She answered, --

"I thought you would be able to wait until the day should come when thelaw would authorize me to make my own choice. "

"Henrietta!"

She offered him her hand, and said solemnly, --

"And on that day, Daniel, I promise you, if my father still withholdshis consent, I will ask you openly for your arm; and then, in broaddaylight, before all the world, I shall leave this house never tore-enter it again. "

As quick as thought, Daniel had seized her hand, and, carrying it to hislips, he said, --"Thanks! A thousand thanks! You restore me to hope. "

Still, before abandoning the effort, he thought he would try one moremeasure; and for that purpose it was necessary that Henrietta should beinduced to conceal her intentions as long as possible. It was only withgreat difficulty that he succeeded in obtaining her consent. 

"I will do what you desire; but believe me, all your efforts will be invain. "

She was interrupted by the arrival of Count Ville-Handry. He kissedhis daughter, said a few words about rain and fine weather; and then, drawing Daniel into one of the windows, he asked--

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Yes. "

"Well?"

"Miss Henrietta wants a few days to consider. "

The count looked displeased, and said, --

"That is absurd. Nothing can be more ridiculous. But, after all, it isyour business, my dear Daniel. And, if you want any additional motive, I will tell you that my daughter is very rich. She has a quarter of amillion of her own. "

"Sir!" exclaimed Daniel indignantly. 

But Count Ville-Handry had already turned upon his heels; and the butlercame to announce that dinner was on the table. 

The meal, though excellent in itself, was necessarily very dull andsad. It was promptly despatched; for the count seemed to be sitting onneedles, and every minute looked at his watch. 

They had but just handed the coffee around, when he turned to Daniel, saying, --

"Let us make haste. Miss Brandon expects us. "

Daniel was instantly ready. But the count did not even give him time totake leave of Henrietta; he carried him off to his carriage, pushed himin, jumped in after him, and called out to the servant, --"Circus Street!Miss Brandon! Drive fast!"

VIII. 

The servants knew very well what the count meant when he said, "Drivefast!" The coachman, on such occasions, made his horses literally go asfast as they could; and, but for his great skill, the foot-passengerswould have been in considerable danger. Nevertheless, on this eveningCount Ville-Handry twice lowered the window to call out, --

"Don't drive at a walk!"

The fact is, that, in spite of his efforts to assume the air of a gravestatesman, he was as impatient, and as vain of his love, as a youngcollegian hurrying to his first rendezvous with his beloved. Duringdinner he had been sullen and silent; now he became talkative, andchatted away, without troubling himself about the silence of hiscompanion. 

To be sure, Daniel did not even listen. Half-buried in the corner of thewell-padded carriage, he tried his best to control his emotions; for hewas excited, more excited than ever in his life, by the thought that hewas to see, face to face, this formidable adventuress, Miss Brandon. Andlike the wrestler, who, before making a decisive assault, gathers up allhis strength, he summoned to his aid his composure and his energy. It took them not more than ten minutes to drive the whole distance toCircus Street. 

"Here we are!" cried the count. 

And, without waiting for the steps to be let down, he jumped on thesidewalk, and, running ahead of his servants, knocked at the door ofMiss Brandon's house. It was by no means one of those modern structureswhich attract the eye of the passer-by by a ridiculous and conspicuoussplendor. Looking at it from the street, you would have taken it for themodest house of a retired grocer, who was living in it upon his savingsat the rate of two or three thousand a year. It is true, that fromthe street, you could see neither the garden, nor the stables and thecarriage-houses. 

In the meantime a servant had appeared, who took the count's andDaniel's coats, and showed them up stairs. When they reached the upperlanding, the count stopped, as if his breath had been giving out of asudden. 

"There, " he stammered, "there!"

"Where? What?" Daniel did not know what he meant. The count only wishedto say that "there" was the place where he had held Miss Brandon inhis arms the day she had fainted. But Daniel had no time to ask anyquestions. Another servant appeared, coming out of the rooms, and, bowing low before Count Ville-Handry, he said, --

"The ladies have but just risen from table, and are still dressing. "

"Ah!"

"If the gentlemen will please sit down in the parlor, I will tell M. Elgin. "

"Very well, " said the count, speaking in a tone which showed that heconsidered himself perfectly at home in Miss Brandon's house. He enteredthe parlor, followed by Daniel. It was a magnificent room; but everything in it, from the carpet on the floor to the chandelier on theceiling, betrayed the Puritanic taste of Mrs. Brian. It was splendid;but the splendor was cold, stiff, and mournful. The furniture had sharpangles, and suggested any thing but comfort. The bronze figures on themantlepiece-clock were biblical personages; and the other bronzes weresimply hideous. Except these, there was no ornament visible, not apainting, nor a statuette. 

Yes, one. Opposite the fireplace, in the place of honor, there staredat you a painting in a most costly gilt frame, --a horrible daub, representing a man of about fifty years, who wore a fancy uniform withenormous epaulets, a huge sword, a plumed hat, and a blue sash, intowhich two revolvers were thrust. 

"Gen. Brandon, Miss Sarah's father, " said Count Ville-Handry, in a toneof deep respect, which unnerved Daniel. "As a work of art, this portraitleaves, no doubt, much to be wished for; but they say the likeness isexcellent. "

Certainly, though that might be so, there was no resemblance to bediscovered between the tanned face of this American general and theblooming features of Miss Brandon. But there was something more. AsDaniel examined this picture nearer by, and more closely, he thought hediscovered a studied and intentional coarseness of execution. It lookedto him like the work of an artist who had endeavored to imitate thosewretched painters who live upon the vanity of weak men and littlechildren. He thought he discovered by the side of gross inaccuraciesunmistakable traces of a master's hand; and especially one of the ears, half hid behind the hair, seemed to him admirably done. 

But, before he could draw his conclusions from this strange discovery, M. Thomas Elgin appeared in the room. He was in evening costume, lookingtaller and stiffer than ever in his white cravat; and, as he cameforward, he halted a little on one foot, though leaning upon a big cane. 

"What, my dear Sir Thorn!" exclaimed the count, "your leg still givesyou trouble?"

"Oh, a great deal!" replied the honorable gentleman, with a very markedEnglish accent, --"a great deal since this morning. The doctor thinksthere must be something the matter with the bone. "

At the same time, obeying the tendency which we all have to display ourailments, he slightly drew up his trousers, so that the bandages becamevisible which he wore around his leg. Count Ville-Handry looked at itwith pity; then, forgetting that he had introduced Daniel already thenight before at the opera, he presented him once more; and, when theceremony was over, he said to Sir Thorn, --

"Upon my word, I am almost ashamed to appear so early; but I knew youexpected company to-night. "

"Oh, only a few persons!"

"And I desired to see you for a few moments alone. "

A strange grimace represented the only smile of which the honorablegentleman was capable. He made it twice, and then said, caressing hisprimly-cut whiskers, --

"They have told Miss Sarah that you are here, my dear count; and I heardher tell Mrs. Brian that she was nearly ready. I cannot imagine how shecan spend so much time at her toilet. "

They were thus chatting away before the fireplace, Sir Thorn stretchedout in an easy-chair, and the count leaning against the mantlepiece, while Daniel had withdrawn into the embrasure of a window which lookedupon the court-yard and the garden behind the house. There, his browpressed against the cool window-panes, he was meditating. He could notunderstand this wound of M. Elgin's. 

"Is it possible that his fall was an intentional fall?" he thought, "ordid he really break his leg? If he did so, that fainting-fit might havebeen natural, and not prearranged; but"--

He was just plunging into these doubts and speculations, when the noiseof a carriage entering the court-yard, aroused him from his thoughts. 

He looked out. A _coupe_ had driven up to the back porch of the house. Alady stepped out; and he was on the point of uttering a cry of surprise, for he thought he recognized Miss Sarah in that woman. But could that beso? He was unwilling to believe it, when she suddenly raised her head inorder to speak to the coachman, and the light from the lamps fell fullupon her face. 

There was no doubt now on his mind. It was Miss Brandon. 

She flew up the steps, and entered the house. He heard distinctly theheavy door close behind her. 

At the opera, the night before, a single word uttered by Miss Brandonhad sufficed to enlighten Daniel. But now this was a very differentmatter. It was a potent fact, unmistakable and tangible, which came tohim in support of his suspicions. 

In order to increase the passionate impatience of the count, they hadtold him that Miss Brandon was still dressing, but that she was makingall haste to come down to him. Not a word had been said of her beingout, and of her return at that very moment. Where had she been? What newintrigues had compelled her to leave the house just then? It must haveevidently been something of great importance to have kept her out tillso late an hour, and when she knew, moreover, that the count was waitingfor her. 

This incident threw a flood of light on the cunning policy pursued inthis house, and on the clever and active complicity of M. Thomas Elginand Mrs. Brian. What their game really was, and how Count Ville-Handryhad been caught in the trap, he now understood well enough; he wouldhave been caught in it himself. 

How clever these actors were! how perfect all the arrangements! and howscientifically the smallest details were prepared! How marvellously welleven the parlor was arranged to serve the purposes of the owners! Thissimple elegance could not but banish all doubts; and this horribleportrait of the so-called Gen. Brandon--what a stroke of genius!

As to the lame leg of Sir Thorn, Daniel no longer believed in it. 

"His leg is no more broken than mine, " he thought. 

But at the same time he marvelled at the self-denial of this gentleman, who, in order to prove a falsehood, consented to wear his leg bandagedup for months, as if it really had been severely injured. 

"And to-night, " said Daniel to himself, "the performance, no doubt, isto be specially artistic, as they expected me. "

Still, like a duellist, who tries to regain all his strength after asleepless night, Daniel was now fully prepared for the battle. He evenreturned to the fireplace, for fear that his standing alone, and hispreoccupation, might betray his thoughts. 

The conversation between Count Ville-Handry and M. Elgin had in themeantime become very familiar; and the count was just detailing all hisarrangements for the approaching wedding. He would live, he said, withhis wife in the second story of his palace. The first story was to bedivided into two suites of apartments, --one for M. Thomas Elgin, and theother for Mrs. Brian; for he knew very well that his adored Sarah wouldnever consent to part with her dear relatives, who had been father andmother to her. 

The last words remained in his throat; he stood as if he were petrified, his eyes starting from their sockets, his mouth wide open. 

Mrs. Brian had entered the room, followed by Miss Brandon. Daniel waseven more struck by her strange beauty to-day than at the opera; itwas literally dazzling. She wore on that night a dress of tea-colorembroidered with tiny bouquets in Chinese silk, and trimmed below withan immense flounce of plaited muslin. In her hair, which looked evenmore carelessly put up than usually, she had nothing but a branch offuschia, the crimson bells falling gracefully down upon her neck, wherethey mingled with her golden curls. 

She came smilingly up to Count Ville-Handry, and, offering him her browto kiss, she said, --

"Do I look well, dear count?"

He trembled from head to foot; and all he could do was to stretch outhis lips, and to stammer in an almost ecstatic tone of voice, --

"Oh, beautiful! too beautiful!"

"It has taken you long enough, I am sure, " said Sir Thornseverely, --"too long!"

He might have known that Miss Brandon had accomplished a miracle ofexpeditiousness; for it was not a quarter of an hour since she returnedto the house. 

"You are an impertinent villain, Thorn, " she said, laughing in the freshand hearty manner of a child; "and I am very happy that the presence ofthe count relieves _me_ from your eternal sermons. "

"Sarah!" exclaimed Mrs. Brian reprovingly. 

But she had already turned round, with her hand outstretched towardsDaniel, --

"I am so glad you have come, sir!" she said. "I am sure we shallunderstand each other admirably. "

She told him this with the softest possible voice; but, if he had knownher better, he would have read in the way in which she looked at him, that her disposition towards him had entirely changed since yesterday;then she wished him well; now she hated him savagely. 

"Understand each other?" he repeated as he bowed; "in what?"

She made no answer. 

The servant announced some of the usual visitors; and she went toreceive them. Ten o'clock struck; and from that moment the invitedguests did not cease to arrive. At eleven o'clock there were perhaps ahundred persons in the room; and in the two adjoining rooms card-tableshad been arranged. 

It appeared that the gentlemen who showed themselves there--oldmen mostly, amply decorated with foreign orders, and young men inextravagantly fashionable costumes--were not free from suspicion; butthey all belonged to Paris high-life, to that society, which, under adazzlingly brilliant outside, conceals hideous crimes, and allows nowand then traces of real misery to be seen through the rents in thesplendid livery worn by its members. 

Some of these men stood, by the name they bore or the position theyfilled, high above the rest of the company; they were easily recognizedby their haughty manner, and the intense deference with which theirslightest remarks were received. And to this crowd Count Ville-Handrydisplayed his good-fortune. He assumed all the airs of the master of thehouse; as if he had been in his own house, gave orders to the servants, and then, with mock modesty, went from group to group, eagerly pickingup all the compliments he could gather on Miss Brandon's beauty, and hisown good luck. 

Gracefully reclining in an easy-chair near the fireplace, Miss Sarahlooked a young queen surrounded by her court. But in spite of themultitude of her admirers, and the number of compliments she received atevery moment, she never for a moment lost sight of Daniel, watching himall the time stealthily, to read his thoughts in his features. 

Once she even shocked the crowd of her worshippers by suddenly leavingher place in order to ask him why he held himself so aloof, and whetherhe felt indisposed. Then, seeing that he was a perfect stranger here, she was good enough to point out to him some of the most remarkable menin the crowd. In doing this, she was so anxious to make him aware of herdistinguished friends, that Daniel began to think she must have divinedhis intentions, and thus indirectly defied him, as if she had said in somany words, --

"You see what friends I have, and how they would defend me if you shoulddare to attack me. "

Nevertheless, he was not discouraged, being fully aware of all thedifficulties of his undertaking, and having long since counted up allthe obstacles in his way. While the conversation was going on aroundhim, he arranged in his head a plan, which, he hoped, would enable himto find out the antecedents of this dangerous adventuress. 

These thoughts preoccupied him to such a degree, that he did not becomeaware how the rooms became gradually empty. It was so, nevertheless; andthere were finally only a few intimate friends left, and four players ata card-table. 

Then Miss Brandon arose, and, coming up to Daniel, said to him, --

"Will you grant me ten minutes' conversation, sir?"

He prepared to follow her, when Mrs. Brian interposed, saying a fewwords in a tone of reproach to her niece. Daniel knew enough English tounderstand that she said, --

"What you are doing is highly improper, Sarah. "

"Shocking!" added M. Thomas Elgin. 

But she shrugged her shoulders slightly, and replied in English, --

"My dear count alone would have a right to judge my conduct; and he hasauthorized me to do what I am doing. "

Then turning to Daniel, she said to him in French, --

"Come with me, sir. "

IX. 

Miss Sarah led Daniel to a small boudoir adjoining her own room. Nothingcould be fresher and more coquettish than this little room, which lookedalmost like a greenhouse, so completely was it filled with rare andfragrant flowers, while the door and window-frames were overgrownwith luxuriant creepers. In the windows stood large vases filled withflowers; and the light bamboo chairs were covered with the same brightsilk with which the walls were hung. If the great reception-roomreflected the character of Mrs. Brian, this charming boudoir representedMiss Brandon's own exquisite taste. 

She sat down on a small sofa and began, after a short pause, --

"My aunt was right; it would have been more proper for me to convey toyou through M. Elgin what I want to say. But I have the independenceof all the girls of my country; and, when my interests are at stake, Itrust no one but myself. "

She was bewitching in her ingenuousness as she uttered these words withthe air of a little child who looks cunning, and determined to undertakesomething that appears quite formidable. 

"I am told that my dear count has been to see you this afternoon, " shecontinued, "and you have heard that in less than a month I shall be theCountess Ville-Handry?"

Daniel was surprised. In less than a month! What could be done in solittle time?

"Now, sir, " continued Miss Brandon, "I wish to hear from your own lipswhether you see--any--objections to this match. "

She spoke so frankly, that it was evident she was utterly unconscious ofthat article in the code of social laws which prescribes that a Frenchgirl must never mention the word "marriage" without blushing to theroots of her hair. Daniel, on the contrary, was terribly embarrassed. 

"I confess, " he replied with much hesitation, "that I do not understand, that I cannot possibly explain to myself, why you do me the honor"--

"To consult you? Pardon me; I think you understand me perfectly well. Have they not promised you Miss Ville-Handry's hand?"

"The count has permitted me to hope"--

"He has pledged his word, sir, under certain conditions. My dear counthas told me every thing. I speak, therefore, to Count Ville-Handry'sson-in-law, and I repeat, Do you see any objections to this match?"

The question was too precisely put to allow of any prevarication. Andstill Daniel was bent upon gaining time, and avoiding any positiveanswer. For the first time in his life he said a falsehood; and, turningcrimson all over, he stammered out, --

"I see no objection. "

"Really?"

"Really. "

She shook her head, and then said very slowly, --

"If that is so, you will not refuse me a great favor. Carried away byher grief at seeing her father marry again, Miss Ville-Handry hates me. Will you promise me to use your influence in trying to persuade her tochange her disposition towards me?"

Never had honest Daniel Champcey been tried so hard. He answereddiplomatically, --

"I am afraid you overestimate my influence. "

She looked at him suddenly with such a sharp and penetrating glance thathe felt almost startled, and then said, --

"I do not ask of you to succeed, only promise me upon your honor thatyou will do your best, and I shall be very much obliged to you. Will yougive me that promise?"

Could he do so? The situation was so exceptional, Daniel had at allcost to lull the enemy into security for a time, and for a moment he wasinclined to pledge his honor. Nay, more than that, he made an effort todo it. But his lips refused to utter a false oath. 

"You see, " resumed Miss Brandon very coldly, "you see you were deceivingme. "

And, turning away from him, she hid her face in her hands, apparentlyovercome by grief, and repeated in a tone of deep sorrow, --

"What a disgrace! Great God! What a humiliation!"

But suddenly she started up again, her face bright with a glow of hope, and cried out, --

"Well, be it so. I like it all the better so. A mean man would not havehesitated at an oath, however determined he might have been not to keepit. Whilst you--I can trust you; you are a man of honor, and all is notlost yet. Whence comes your aversion? Is it a question of money, thecount's fortune?"

"Miss Brandon!"

"No, it is not that, I see. I was quite sure of it. What, then, can itbe? Tell me, sir, I beseech you! tell me something. "

What could he tell her? Daniel remained silent. 

"Very well, " said Sarah, clinching her teeth convulsively. "Iunderstand. "

She made a supreme effort not to break out in sobs; and big tears, resembling diamonds of matchless beauty, rolled slowly down from betweenher long, trembling eyelashes. 

"Yes, " she said, "I understand. The atrocious calumnies which my enemieshave invented have reached you; and you have believed them. They have, no doubt, told you that I am an adventuress, come from nowhere; that myfather, the brave defender of the Union, exists only in the paintingin my parlor; that no one knows where my income comes from; thatThorn, that noble soul, and Mrs. Brian, a saint upon earth, are vileaccomplices of mine. Confess, you have been told all that, and you havebelieved it. "

Grand in her wrath, her cheeks burning, her lips trembling, she rose, and added in a tone of bitter sarcasm, --

"Ah! When people are called upon to admire a noble deed, they refuseto believe, they insist upon inquiring before they admire, they examinecarefully. But, if they are told something bad, they dispense with thatceremony; however monstrous the thing may appear, however improbable itmay sound, they believe it instantly. They would not touch a child; butthey do not hesitate to repeat a slander which dishonors a woman, andkills her as surely as a dagger. If I were a man, and had been toldthat Miss Brandon was an adventuress, I would have been bent uponascertaining the matter. America is not so far off. I should have soonfound the ten thousand men who had served under Gen. Brandon, and theywould have told me what sort of a man their chief had been. I shouldhave examined the oil-regions of Pennsylvania; and I would have learnedthere that the petroleum-wells belonging to M. Elgin, Mrs. Brian, andMiss Brandon produce more than many a principality. "

Daniel was amazed at the candor and the boldness with which this younggirl approached the terrible subject. To enable her to speak with suchenergy and in such a tone, she must either be possessed of unsurpassedimpudence, or--he had to confess it--be innocent. 

Overcome by the effort she had made, she had sunk back upon the sofa, and continued in a lower tone of voice, as if speaking to herself, --

"But have I a right to complain? I reap as I have sown. Alas! Thorn hastold me so often enough, and I would not believe him. I was not twentyyears old when I came to Paris, after my poor father's death. I had beenbrought up in America, where young girls know no other law but that oftheir own consciences. They tell us at home, all the time, that it isour first duty to be truthful. In France, young girls are taught thathypocrisy is their first duty. We are taught not to blush, exceptwhen we have done wrong; they are taught all the appearances of falseprudishness. In France, they work hard to save appearances; with us, we aim at reality. In Philadelphia, I did every thing I chose to do, provided I did not think it was wrong. I thought I could do the samehere. Poor me! I did not count upon the wickedness of the world. I wentout alone, on horseback, in the morning. I went alone to church, to prayto God. If I wanted any thing for my toilet, I sent for the carriage, and drove out, alone, to buy it. When a man spoke to me, I did not feelbound to cast down my eyes; and, if he was amusing and witty, I laughed. If a new fashion pleased me, I adopted it. I committed all these crimes. I was young, rich, popular. These were as many more crimes. And after Ihad been here a year, they said that Malgat, that wretch"--

She jumped up as she said this, ran up to Daniel, and, seizing him bythe hands, she said, --

"Malgat! Have they talked to you about Malgat?"

And, as he hesitated to answer, she added:--

"Ah, answer me! Don't you see that your hesitation is an insult?"

"Well--yes. "

As if in utter despair, she raised her hands to heaven, calling God, asit were, to witness, and asking for inspiration from on high. Then sheadded suddenly, --

"But I have proofs, irrefutable proofs of Malgat's rascality. "

And, without waiting for another word, she hurried into the adjoiningroom. Daniel, moved to the bottom of his heart, remained standing wherehe was, immovable, like a statue. 

He was utterly confounded and overcome by the charm of that marvellousvoice, which passed through the whole gamut of passion with such asonorous ring, and yet with such sweet languor, that it seemed by turnsto sob and to threaten, to sigh with sadness and to thunder with wrath. 

"What a woman!" he said to himself, repeating thus unconsciously thewords uttered by M. De Brevan. 

"What a woman! And how well she defends herself. "

But Miss Brandon was already back again, carrying in her arms a smallbox of costly wood inlaid with jewels. She resumed her seat on the sofa;and in that brief, sharp tone which betrays terrible passions restrainedwith a great effort, she said, --

"Before all, I must thank you, M. Champcey, for your frankness, since itenables me to defend myself. I knew that slander had attacked me; I feltit, so to say, in the air I was breathing; but I had never been able yetto take hold of it. Now, for the first time, I can face it; and I owe itto you that I am able to defy it. Listen, therefore; for I swear to youby all that is most sacred to me, by the memory of my sainted mother, I swear to you solemnly, that you shall hear the truth, and nothing butthe truth. "

She had opened the box, and was eagerly searching something among thepapers inside. She then continued, in feverish haste, --

"M. Malgat was the cashier and confidential clerk of the Mutual DiscountSociety, a large and powerful company. M. Elgin had some business withhim, a few weeks after our arrival here, for the purpose of drawingfunds which he had in Philadelphia. He found him an exceedingly obligingman, and, to show his appreciation, invited him to dine here. Thus hebecame acquainted with Mrs. Brian and myself. He was a man of aboutforty, of medium height, ordinary looking, very polite, but not refinedin his manners. The first time I looked at his light yellow eyes, I feltdisgusted and frightened. I read in his face an expression of base vice. The impression was so strong, that I could not help telling M. Elgin howsure I was this man would turn out a bad man, and that he ought not totrust him in money-matters. "

Daniel listened with breathless attention. This description of Malgatimpressed his portrait so deeply on his mind, that he thought he sawhim before his eyes, and would certainly recognize him if he should evermeet him. 

"M. Elgin, " continued Miss Brandon, "only laughed at my presentiments;and even Mrs. Brian, I remember distinctly, scolded me, saying it wasvery wrong to judge a man by his appearance, and that there werevery honest men in the world who had yellow eyes. I must acknowledge, moreover, that M. Malgat behaved perfectly well whenever he was here. As M. Elgin did not know Paris, and had money to invest, he advisedhim what to do. When we had drafts upon the Mutual Discount Society, healways saved M. Elgin the trouble, and brought the money himself. After a while, when M. Elgin took it into his head to try some smallspeculations on 'change, M. Malgat offered him his assistance, althoughthey never had any luck, in fact. "

By this time Miss Brandon had found the papers she was looking for. Shehanded them to Daniel, saying, --

"And, if you do not believe what I say, look at this. "

There were a dozen square bits of paper, on which Malgat had reportedthe result of his operations on 'change, which he carried on on accountof, and with the money of, M. Elgin. All ended with these words:--

"We have lost considerably; but we may be more fortunate next time. There is a capital chance on such and such funds; send me all the moneyyou can spare. "

The words were always the same; the name of the funds alone varied ineach. 

"That is strange, " said Daniel. 

Miss Sarah shook her head. 

"Strange? Yes, indeed!" she replied. "But it does not help me in anyway. This letter, however, will tell you more. Read it, sir, and read italoud. "

Daniel took the letter, and read, --

"'Paris, Dec. 5, 1865. 

"'M. Thomas Elgin. _Dear Sir_, --It is to you alone, the most honorableamong men, that I can make the terrible confession that I have committeda crime. 

"'I am wretched. Employed by you in your speculations, I have given wayto temptation, and have speculated on my own account. One loss broughtabout another, I lost my head; I hoped to recover my money; and now, atthis hour, I owe more than ten thousand dollars, which I have taken fromthe safe of the society. 

"'Will you have pity on me? Will you be so generous as to lend me thatsum? I may not be able to return it in less than six or seven years; butI will repay you, I swear it, with interest. 

"'I await your answer, like a criminal, who waits for the verdict. Itis a matter of life and death with me; and as you decide, so I may besaved, or disgraced forever. A. Malgat. '"

On the margin, methodical M. Elgin had written in his angularhandwriting, --

"Answered immediately. Sent to M. M. Ten thousand dollars, to be drawnfrom funds deposited with the Mutual Discount Society. No interest to bepaid. "

"And that, " stammered Daniel, "that is the man"--

"Whom they charge me with having turned aside from the paths of honesty;yes, sir! Now you learn to know him. But wait. You see, he was saved. Itwas not long before he appeared here, his false face bathed in tears. I can find no words to convey to you the exaggerated expressions of hisgratitude. He refused to shake hands with M. Elgin, he said, becausehe was no longer worthy of such honor. He spoke of nothing but of hisdevotion unto death. It is true M. Elgin carried his generosity to anextreme. He, a model of honesty, who would have starved to death ratherthan touch the gold intrusted to his care, --he consoled Malgat, findingall kinds of apology for him, telling him, that, after all, he was notso very much to blame, that there were temptations too strong to beresisted, and repeating even those paradoxical principles which havebeen specially invented as an apology for thieves. Malgat had stillsome money of his own; but M. Elgin did not ask him for it, for fear ofhurting his feelings. He continued to invite him, and urged him to comeand dine with us as heretofore. "

She stopped, laughing in a nervous manner, which was painful to hear, and then continued, in a hoarse voice, --

"Do you know, M. Champcey, how Malgat repaid all this kindness? Readthis note; it will restore me in your esteem, I trust. "

It was another letter written by Malgat to M. Elgin, and ran thus, --

"M. Elgin, --I have deceived you. It was not ten thousand dollars I hadtaken, but sixty thousand five hundred dollars. 

"Thanks to false entries, I have been able to conceal my defalcationsuntil now; but I can do so no longer. The board of directors have begunto suspect me; and the president has just told me that tomorrow thebooks will be examined. I am lost. 

"I ought to kill myself, I know; but I have not the courage to do so. I venture to ask you to furnish me the means of escaping from thiscountry. I beseech you on my knees, in the name of all that is dear toyou, for mercy's sake; for I am penniless, and cannot even pay the fareon the railway as far as the frontier. Nor can I return to my house; forI am watched. 

"Once more, M. Elgin, have pity on a poor man, and leave the answer withthe concierge. I will come by about nine o'clock. A. Malgat. "

Not on the margin, as before, but across the lines, M. Elgin had writtenthese laconic words:--

"Answered immediately. No! The scamp!"

Daniel could not have uttered a word to save his life; he was toofearfully excited. Miss Brandon continued, --

"We were dining alone that day; and M. Elgin was so indignant, that heforgot his usual reserve, and told us everything. Ah! I felt only pityfor the poor man; and I besought him to give the wretch the means toescape. But he was inflexible. Seeing, however, how excited I was, hetried to reassure me by telling me that Malgat would certainly not come, that he would not dare to expect an answer to such a letter. "

She pressed both her hands on her heart, as if to still its beating; andthen continued, in a weak voice, --

"Nevertheless, he came, and, seeing his hopes disappointed, he insistedupon speaking to us. The servants let him go up, and he entered. Ah!if I lived a thousand years, I should never forget that fearful scene. Feeling that all was lost, this thief, this defaulter, had becomeenraged; he demanded money. At first he asked for it on his knees inhumble words; but, when he found that this did not answer, he suddenlyrose in a perfect fury, his mouth foaming, his eyes bloodshot, andoverwhelmed us with the coarsest insults. At last M. Elgin's patiencegave out, and he rang for the servants. They had to employ force to draghim out; and, as they pushed him down stairs, he threatened us with hisfist, and swore that he would be avenged. "

Miss Brandon shuddered till she appeared to be all in a quiver; and, fora moment, Daniel thought she was going to be ill. But she made an effortto overcome her weakness; and, in a more decided tone, she continued, --

"Forty-eight hours passed; and the impression of this horrible scenebegan to fade from our minds, till it appeared like a bad dream. If wementioned Malgat at all, it was with pity and contempt; for what couldhe do to us? Nothing, you will say. Even if he should dare to accuseus of some great crime, we thought no one would listen to him, and weshould never hear of it. How could we imagine that the world would setto work doubting our honor upon the mere word of a wretch like him?

"His crime had, in the meantime, become known; and all the papers werefull of it, adding a number of more or less reliable stories. Theyexaggerated the sums he had stolen; and they said he had succeeded inescaping to England, and that the police had lost his traces in London. 

"I, poor girl, had nearly forgotten the whole matter. 

"He had really fled; but, before leaving Paris, he had succeeded inpreparing everything for the vengeance which he had threatened. Wherecould he have found people mean enough to serve his purposes? and whowere they? I do not know. Perhaps he did nothing more, as Mrs. Briansuggested, than to address two or three anonymous letters to some of ouracquaintances, who he knew did not like us, or envied us. 

"At all events, in less than a week after his disappearance, it wasreported everywhere, that I, Sarah Brandon, had been an accomplice ofthis defaulter, and, worse than that, that the sums he had stolen mighteasily be found, if a certain bureau in my bedchamber could be searched. 

"Yes, that is what they said, at first in a whisper and most cautiously, then louder, and finally openly, and before all the world. 

"Soon the papers took it up. They repeated the facts, arranging themto suit their purpose, and alluding to me in a thousand infamousinnuendoes. They said that Malgat's defalcation was after the Americanstyle, and that it was perfectly natural he should go to a foreigncountry, after having been associated with a certain foreign lady. "

She had become crimson all over; her bosom rose; and shame, indignation, and resentment alternately appeared on her face, changing finally intoan ardent desire of vengeance. 

"We, in the meantime, " she continued, "quiet and safe in our honesty, did not even suspect these infamous proceedings. It is true, I hadbeen struck by some strange whisperings, by curious looks and singularsmiles, when I passed some of my friends; but I had not noticed themspecially. 

"A paper which had been left at the house one afternoon, when we wereout, showed us the true state of things. It was a summons. I was orderedto appear before a magistrate. 

"It was a thunderbolt. Mad with wrath and grief, M. Elgin swore Ishould not go, that he would most assuredly find out the authors of thisinfamous libel, and that, in the meantime, he would challenge and killevery one who dared repeat it. 

"In vain did Mrs. Brian and myself beseech him, on our knees, not toleave the house until he had grown cooler. He pushed us aside almostwith brutality, and rushed out, taking with him the papers and letterswritten by Malgat. 

"We were at the end of our endurance, having suffered all the torturesof anxiety, when, at last, near midnight, M. Elgin returned, pale, exhausted, and distressed. He had found no one willing even to listen tohim; everybody telling him that he was much too good to give a thoughtto such infamous reports; that they were too absurd to be believed. "

She nearly gave way, sobs intercepting her words; but she mastered heremotion, and continued, --

"The next day I went to the court-house; and, after being kept waitingfor a long time in a dark passage, I was brought before the magistrate. He was an elderly man, with hard features and piercing eyes, whoreceived me almost brutally, as if I had been a criminal. But, when Ihad shown him the letters which you have just read, his manner suddenlychanged, pity got the better of him; and I thought I saw a tear in hiseye. Ah! I shall be eternally grateful to him for the words he said whenI left his office, --

"'Poor, poor young girl! Justice bows reverently before your innocence. Would to God that the world could be made to do the same!'"

She fixed her eyes, trembling with fear and hope, upon Daniel, andadded, in a voice of supplication and touching humility, --

"The world has been more cruel than justice itself but you, sir, willyou be harder than the magistrate?"

Alas! Daniel was sorely embarrassed what to answer. He felt as if allhis senses were in an uproar and in utter confusion. 

"Sir!" begged Miss Brandon again. "M. Champcey!"

She continued to fix her eyes upon him. He turned his head aside, feeling as if, under her obstinate gaze, his mind left him, his energyevaporated, and all the fibres of his strong will were breaking. 

"Great God!" exclaimed Miss Brandon, with grieved surprise; "he stilldoubts me. Sir, I pray you, speak! Do you doubt the authenticity ofthese letters? Ah, if you do, take them; for I do not hesitate toconfide them, the only proofs of my innocence, to your honor. Take themand show them to the other clerks who have been sitting for twenty yearsin the same office with Malgat; and they will tell you that it is hishandwriting; that he has signed his own condemnation. And, if that isnot enough for you, go to the magistrate who examined me; his name isPatrigent. "

And she waited, waited, but not a word came forth. 

Daniel had sunk, undone, into a chair; and his elbow resting on a smallstand, his brow in his hands, he endeavored to think, to reason. ThenMiss Brandon rose, came gently up to him, and taking his hand, saidsoftly, --

"I beseech you!"

But as if suddenly electrified by the touch of this soft, warm hand, Daniel rose so hastily, that he upset the chair; and, trembling withmysterious terror, he cried out, --

"Kergrist!"

It was as if a fearful insult had set Miss Brandon on fire. Her faceturned crimson, and then, almost instantly, livid; and, stepping back alittle, she darted at Daniel a look of burning hatred. 

"Oh!" she murmured, "oh!" finding, apparently, no words to express allshe felt. 

Was she going away? It looked as if she thought of it, for she walkedto the door; but, suddenly changing her mind, she came back to where shehad stood, facing Daniel. 

"This is the first time in my life, " she said, trembling with rage, "that I condescend to justify myself against such infamous charges; andyou abuse my patience by heaping insult after insult upon me. But nevermind. I look upon you as upon Henrietta's husband; and, since I havecommenced, I mean to finish. "

Daniel tried to say a few words of apology; but she interrupted him, --

"Well, yes; one night a young man, Charles de Kergrist, --a profligate, a gambler, crowning his scandalous life with the vilest and meanestact, --did come and kill himself under my window. The next day a greatoutcry arose against me. Three days later the brother of that wretchedmadman, a M. Rene de Kergrist, came and held M. Elgin to account. Butdo you know what came of these explanations? Charles de Kergrist, itappears, killed himself after a supper, which he left in a state ofdrunkenness. He committed suicide because he had lost his fortune atHomburg and at Baden; because he had exhausted his last resources;because his family, ashamed at his disgrace, refused to acknowledgehim any longer. And, if he chose my window for his self-murder, it wasbecause he wanted to satisfy a petty grievance. Looking upon me as anheiress, whose fortune would enable him to continue his extravagantlife, he had courted me, and been refused by M. Elgin. Finally, at thetime when the catastrophe occurred, I was sixty miles away from here, inTours, staying at the house of one of M. Elgin's friends, M. Palmer, whodeposed"--

And, as Daniel looked at her with an air of utter bewilderment, sheadded, --

"Perhaps you will ask me for proofs of what I state. I have none to giveyou. But I know a man who can give you what you want, and that man is M. De Kergrist's brother; for, after those explanations, he has continuedto be our friend, sir, one of our best friends. And he was hereto-night, and you have seen him; for he came and spoke to me while youwere standing by me. M. De Kergrist lives here in Paris; and M. Elginwill give you his address. "

She looked at Daniel with a glance in which pity and contempt werestrangely mixed, and then added, in her proudest tone, --

"And now, sir, since _I_ have deigned to stand here like a criminal, doyou sit in judgment on me. Question me, and I will answer. What else areyou going to charge me with?"

A judge, however, ought to be calm; and Daniel was but too conscious ofhis deep excitement; he knew he could not even prevent his features fromexpressing his utter bewilderment. He gave up all discussion therefore, and simply said, --

"I believe you, Miss Brandon, I believe you. "

Miss Brandon's beautiful eyes lighted up for a moment with joy; and in atone of voice which sounded like the echo of her heart, she said, --

"Oh, thank you, sir! now I am sure you will grant me Miss Henrietta'sfriendship. "

Why did she mention that name? It broke the charm which had overcomeDaniel. He saw how weak he had been, and was ashamed of himself. 

He said sternly, thus proving his anger at himself, and the failure ofhis judgment, --

"Permit me not to reply to that to-night. I should like to consider. "

She looked at him half stupefied. 

"What do you mean?" she said. "Have I, or have I not, removed yourdoubts, your insulting suspicions? Perhaps you wish to consult one of myenemies?"

She spoke in a tone of such profound disdain, that Daniel, stung tothe quick, forgot the discretion which he had intended to observe, andsaid, --

"Since you insist upon it, Miss Brandon, I must confess that there isone doubt which you have not removed. "

"Which?"

Daniel hesitated, regretting the words he had allowed to escape him. Buthe had gone too far now to retract. He replied, --

"I do not understand, Miss Brandon, how you can marry Count Ville-Handry. "

"Why not?"

"You are young. You are immensely rich, you say. The count is sixty-sixyears old. "

She, who had been so daring that nothing seemed to be able to disconcerther, now lowered her head like a timid boarding-school girl who has beencaught acting contrary to rules; and a flood of crimson spread over herface, and every part of her figure which was not concealed by her dress. 

"You are cruel, sir!" she stammered; "the secret into which you pry isone of those which a girl hardly dares to confide to her mother. "

He was triumphant, thinking he had caught her at last. 

"Ah, indeed!" he said ironically. 

But the proud young lady did not waver, and replied with bittersadness, --

"You will have it so; be it so. For your sake, I will lay aside thatveil of proud reserve which conceals the mysteries of a young girl'sheart. I do not love Count Ville-Handry. "

Daniel was startled. This confession seemed to him the height ofimprudence. 

"I do not love him, --at least not with real love; and I have neverallowed him to hope for such a feeling. Still I shall be most happy tobecome his wife. Do not expect me to explain to you what is going onwithin me. I myself hardly understand it as yet. I can give no precisename to that feeling of sympathy which attracts me towards him. Ihave been captivated by his wit and his kindness; his words have anindescribable charm for me. That is all I can tell you. "

Daniel could not believe his ears. 

"And, " she continued, "if you must have motives of more ordinarycharacter, I will confess to you that I can no longer endure this life, harassed as I am by vile calumnies. The palace of Count Ville-Handryappears to me an asylum, where I shall bury my disappointments and mysorrows, and where I shall find peace and a position which commandsrespect. Ah! you need not be afraid for that great and noble name. I shall bear it worthily and nobly, and shrink from no sacrifice toenhance its splendor. You may say that I am a calculating woman. I daresay _I_ am; but I see nothing mean or disgraceful in my hopes. "

Daniel had thought he had confounded her, and it was she who crushedhim by her bold frankness; for there was nothing to say, no reasonableobjection to make. Fifty marriages out of every hundred are made uponless high ground. Miss Brandon, however, was not a woman to be easilyovercome. She rose as she spoke, to her former haughtiness, and inspiredherself with the sound of her voice. 

"During the last two years, " she said, "I have had twenty offers; andamong them three or four that would have been acceptable to a duchess. Ihave refused them, in spite of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Only yesterday, a man of twenty-five, a Gordon Chalusse, was here at my feet. I havesent him off like the others, preferring my dear count. And why?"

She remained a moment buried in thought, her eyes swimming in tears;and, answering apparently her own questions, rather than Daniel's, shewent on, --

"Thanks to my beauty, as the world calls it, a fatal beauty, alas! Ihave been admired, courted, filled to satiety with compliments. They sayI am in the most elegant and most polished society in Europe; and yet Ihave looked in vain for the man whose eye could for a moment even breakthe peace of my heart. I have seen everywhere only persons of likeperfection, whose characters had no more wrinkles than the coat madeby the first of tailors, all equally eager and gallant, playing well, talking well, dancing well, riding well. "

She shook her head with a movement full of energy; and, beaming withenthusiasm, she exclaimed, --

"Ah! I had dreamed of better things to come. What I dreamed of was aman of noble heart, with an inflexible will, capable of attempting whatothers dared not, --what, I do not know, but something grand, perilous, impossible. I dreamed of one of those ambitious men with a pale brow, alonging look, whose eyes sparkle with genius, --one of those strong menwho impose their will upon the multitude, and who remove mountains bythe force of their will. 

"Alas! to repay the love of such a man, I would have found treasures inmy heart, which now remain useless, like all the wealth that is buriedat the bottom of the sea. I would have drunk deep from the cup of myhopes; my pulse would have kept time with the fever of his excitement. For his sake, I would have made myself small, humble, useful; I wouldhave watched in his looks for the shadow of a desire. 

"But how proud I would have been, I, his wife, of his success and of hisglories, of the reverence paid him by his admirers, and the hatred ofhis enemies!"

Her voice had vibrations in it that might have stirred up the heart of astoic. The splendor of her exalted beauty illumined the room. 

And gradually, one by one, Daniel's suspicions vanished, or fell topieces like the ill-jointed pieces of an ancient armor. But Miss Brandonpaused, ashamed of her vehemence, and continued more slowly, --

"Now, sir, you know me better than any other person in this world. Youalone have read the innermost heart of Sarah Brandon. And yet I see youtoday for the first time in my life. And yet you are the first man whohas ever dared to speak harshly to me, harsh unto insult. Will you makeme repent of my frankness? Oh, no, no! surely you will not be so cruel. I know you to be a man of honor and of high principles; I know how, inorder to save a name which you revere, you have risked your prospects inlife, the girl you love, and an enormous fortune. Yes, Miss Ville-Handryhas made no ordinary choice. "

She looked as if she were utterly despondent, and added, in a tone ofconcentrated rage, --

"And I, I know my fate. "

Then followed a pause, a terrible pause. They were standing face toface, pale, troubled, trembling with excitement, their teeth firmly set, their eyes eloquent with deep feeling. 

Daniel, as he felt the hot breath of this terrible passion, becamealmost unconscious of the surroundings; his mind was shaken; amysterious delirium took possession of his senses; the blood rushed tohis head; and he felt as if the beating at his temples was ringing inthe whole house. 

"Yes, " began at last Miss Brandon once more, "my fate is sealed. I mustbecome the Countess of Ville-Handry, or I am lost. And once more, sir, I beseech you induce Miss Henrietta to receive me like an elder sister. Ah! if I were the woman you think I am, what would I care for MissHenrietta and her enmity? You know very well that the count will goon at any hazard. And yet I beg, --I who am accustomed to commandeverywhere. What more can I do? Do you want to see me at your feet? HereI am. "

And really, as she said this, she sank down so suddenly, that her kneesstruck the floor with a noise; and, seizing Daniel's hands, she pressedthem upon her burning brow. 

"Great God!" she sighed, "to be rejected, by him!"

Her hair had become partially loosened, and fell in masses on Daniel'shands. He trembled from head to foot; and, bending over Miss Brandon, he raised her, and held her, half lifeless, while her head rested on hisshoulder. 

"Miss Sarah, " he said in a hoarse, low voice. 

They were so near to each other, that their breaths mingled, and Danielfelt Miss Brandon's sobs on his heart, burning him like fiery flames. Then, half drunk with excitement, forgetting every thing, he pressed hislips upon the lips of this strange girl. 

But she, starting up instantly, drew back, and cried, --

"Daniel! unhappy man!"

Then breaking out in sobs, she stammered, --

"Go! I pray you go! I ask for nothing now. If I must be lost, I must. "

And he replied with terrible vehemence, --

"Your will shall be done, Sarah; I am yours. You may count upon me. "

And he rushed out like a madman, down the staircase, taking three stepsat once, and, finding the house-door open, out into the street. 

X. 

It was a dark, freezing night; the sky was laden with clouds which hungso low, that they nearly touched the roofs of the houses; and a furiouswind was shaking the black branches of the trees in the Champs Elysees, passing through the air like a fine dust of snow. 

Daniel rushed in feverish haste, like an escaped convict, headlong on, without aim or purpose, solely bent upon escaping. But, when he had gonesome distance, the motion, the cold night-air, and the keen wind playingin his hair, restored him to consciousness. Then he became aware that hewas still in evening costume, bareheaded, and that he had left his hatand his overcoat in Miss Brandon's house. Then he remembered that CountVille-Handry was waiting for him in the great reception-room, togetherwith M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. What would they say and think? Unhappyman, in what a sad predicament he found himself!

There might have been a way to escape from that hell; and he himself, inhis madness, had closed it forever. 

Like one of those dissipated men who awake from the heavy sleep after adebauch, with dry mouth and weary head, he felt as if he had just beenaroused from a singular and terrible dream. Like the drunkard, who, whenhe is sobered, tries to recall the foolish things he may have done underthe guidance of King Alcohol, Daniel conjured up one by one all hisemotions during the hour which he had just spent by Miss Brandon'sside, --an hour of madness which would weigh heavily upon his futurefate, and which alone contained in its sixty minutes more experiencesthan his whole life so far. 

At no time had he been so near despair. 

What! He had been warned, put on his guard, made fully aware of all ofMiss Brandon's tricks; they had told him of the weird charm of her eyes;he himself had caught her that very evening in the open act of deceivingothers. 

And in spite of all this, feeble and helpless as he was, he had lethimself be caught by the fascinations of this strange girl. Her voicehad made him forget every thing, every thing--even his dear and belovedHenrietta, his sole thought for so many years. 

"Fool!" he said to himself, "what have I done?"

Unmindful of the blast of the tempest, and of the snow which had begunto fall, he had sat down on the steps of one of the grandest houses inCircus Street, and, with his elbows on his knees, he pressed his browwith his hands, as if hoping that he might thus cause it to suggest tohim some plan of salvation. Conjuring up the whole energy of his will, he tried to retrace his interview with Miss Brandon in order to find outby what marvellous transformation it had begun as a terrible combat, andended as a love-scene. And recalling thus to his memory all she had toldhim in her soft, sweet voice, he asked himself if she had not reallybeen slandered; and, if there was actually something amiss in herpast life, why should it not rather be laid at the door of those twoequivocal personages who watched over her, M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. 

What boldness this strange girl had displayed in her defence! but alsowhat lofty nobility! How well she had said that she did not love CountVille-Handry with real love, and that, until now, no man had evensucceeded in quickening her pulse! Was she of marble, and susceptibleonly of delight in foolish vanity?

Oh, no! a thousand times no! The most refined coquetry never achievedthat passionate violence; the most accomplished artist never possessedthat marvellous contagion which is the sublime gift of truth alone. And, whatever he could do, his head and heart remained still filled with MissBrandon; and Daniel trembled as he remembered certain words in which, under almost transparent illusions, the secret of her heart had betrayeditself. Could she have told Daniel more pointedly than she had actuallydone, "He whom I could love is none other but you"? Certainly not!And as he thought of it his heart was filled with a sense of eager andunwholesome desires; for he was a man, no better, no worse, than othermen; and there are but too many men nowadays, who would value a fewhours of happiness with a woman like Miss Brandon more highly than awhole life of chaste love by the side of a pure and noble woman. 

"But what is that to me?" he repeated. "Can I love her, I?"

Then he began again to revolve in his mind what might have happenedafter his flight from the house. 

How had Miss Brandon explained his escape? How had she accounted for herown excitement?

And, drawn by an invincible power, Daniel had risen to return to thehouse; and there, half-hid under the shadow of the opposite side, in adeep doorway, he watched anxiously the windows, as if they could havetold him any thing of what was going on inside. The reception-roomwas still brilliantly lighted, and people came and went, casting theirshadows upon the white curtains. A man came and leaned his face againstthe window, then suddenly he drew back; and Daniel distinctly recognizedCount Ville-Handry. 

What did that mean? Did it not imply that Miss Brandon had been takensuddenly ill, and that people were anxious about her? These wereDaniel's thoughts when he heard the noise of bolts withdrawn, and doorsopened. It was the great entrance-gate of Miss Brandon's house, whichwas thrown open by some of the servants. A low _coupe_ with a singlehorse left the house, and drove rapidly towards the Champs Elysees. 

But, at the moment when the _coupe_ turned, the light of the lamp fellfull upon the inside, and Daniel thought he recognized, nay, he didrecognize, Miss Brandon. He felt as if he had received a stunning blowon the head. 

"She has deceived me!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth in his rage;"she has treated me like an imbecile, like an idiot!"

Then, suddenly conceiving a strange plan, he added, --

"I must know where she is going at four o'clock in the morning. I willfollow her. "

Unfortunately, Miss Brandon's coachman had, no doubt, received specialorders; for he drove down the avenue as fast as the horse could go, and the animal was a famous trotter, carefully chosen by Sir Thorn, whounderstood horse-flesh better than any one else in Paris. But Danielwas agile; and the hope of being able to avenge himself at once gave himunheard-of strength. 

"If I could only catch a cab!" he thought. 

But no carriage was to be seen. His elbows close to the body, managinghis breath, and steadily measuring his steps, he succeeded in not onlyfollowing the _coupe_, but in actually gaining ground. When Miss Brandonreached Concord Square, he was only a few yards behind the carriage. Butthere the coachman touched the horse, which suddenly increased its pace, crossed the square, and trotted down Royal Street. 

Daniel felt his breath giving out, and a shooting pain, first trifling, but gradually increasing, in his side. He was on the point of givingup the pursuit, when he saw a cab coming down towards him from theMadeleine, the driver fast asleep on the box. He threw himself beforethe horses, and cried out as well as he could, --

"Driver, a hundred francs for you, if you follow that _coupe_ downthere!"

But the driver, suddenly aroused by a man who stood in the middle of thestreet, bareheaded, and in evening costume, and who offered him suchan enormous sum, thought it was a practical joke attempted by a drunkenman, and replied furiously, --

"Look out, rascal! Get out of the way, or I drive over you!"

And therewith he whipped his horses; and Daniel would have been drivenover, if he had not promptly jumped aside. But all this had takentime; and, when he looked up, the _coupe_ was far off, nearly at theboulevard. To attempt overtaking it now would have been folly indeed;and Daniel remained there, overwhelmed and defeated. 

What could he do? It occurred to him that he might hasten to Maxime, andask him for advice. But fate was against him; he gave up that idea. Hewent slowly back to his lodgings, and threw himself into an arm-chair, determined not to go to bed till he had found a way to extricate himselffrom the effects of his egregious folly. 

But he had now been for two days agitated by the extremest alternatives, like a man out at sea, whom the waves buffet, and throw--now up to theshore, and now back again into open water. He had not closed an eye forforty-eight hours; and, if the heart seems to be able to suffer almostindefinitely, our physical strength is strictly limited. Thus he fellasleep, dreaming even in his sleep that he was hard at work, and justabout to discover the means by which he could penetrate the mystery ofMiss Brandon. 

It was bright day when Daniel awoke, chilled and stiffened; for he hadnot changed his clothes when he came home, and his fire had gone out. His first impulse was one of wrath against himself. What! he succumbedso easily?--he, the sailor, who remembered very well having remainedmore than once for forty, and even once for sixty hours on deck, when his vessel was threatened by a hurricane? Had his peaceful andmonotonous life in his office during the last two years weakened him tosuch a point, that all the springs of his system had lost their power?

Poor fellow! he knew not that the direst fatigue _is_ trifling incomparison with that deep moral excitement which shakes the human systemto its most mysterious depths. Nevertheless, while he hastened to kindlea large fire, in order to warm himself, he felt that the rest had donehim good. The last evil effects of his excitement last night had passedaway; the charm by which he had been fascinated was broken; and he feltonce more master of all his faculties. 

Now his folly appeared to him so utterly inexplicable, that, if he hadbut tasted a glass of lemonade at Miss Brandon's house, he should havebeen inclined to believe that they had given him one of those drugswhich set the brains on fire, and produce a kind of delirium. But he hadtaken nothing, and, even if he had, was the foolish act less real forthat? The consequences would be fatal, he had no doubt. 

He was thus busy trying to analyze the future, when his servant entered, as he did every morning, bringing his hat and overcoat on his arm. 

"Sir, " he said, with a smile which he tried to render malicious, "youhave forgotten these things at the house where you spent the eveningyesterday. A servant--on horseback too--brought them. He handed me atthe same time this letter, and is waiting for an answer. "

Daniel took the letter, and for a minute or more examined the direction. The handwriting was a woman's, small and delicate, but in no wayslike the long, angular hand of an American lady. At last he tore theenvelope; and at once a penetrating but delicate perfume arose, which hehad inhaled, he knew but too well, in Miss Brandon's rooms. 

The letter was indeed from her, and on the top of the page bore hername, Sarah, in small blue Gothic letters. She wrote, --

"Is it really so, O Daniel! that you are entirely mine, and that Ican count upon you? You told me so tonight. Do you still remember yourpromises?"

Daniel was petrified. Miss Brandon had told him that she was imprudencepersonified; and here she gave him a positive proof of it. 

Could not these few lines become a terrible weapon against her? Did theynot admit the most extraordinary interpretation? Still, as the bearermight be impatient, the servant asked, --

"What must I tell the man?"

"Ah, wait!" answered Daniel angrily. 

And, sitting down at his bureau, he wrote to Miss Brandon, --

"Certainly, Miss Brandon, I remember the promises you extorted from mewhen I was not master of myself; I remember them but too well. "

Suddenly an idea struck him; and he paused. What! Having been caughtalready in the very first trap she had prepared for his inexperience, was he to risk falling into a second? He tore the letter he hadcommenced into small pieces, and, turning to his servant, said, --

"Tell the man that I am out; and make haste and get me a carriage!"

Then, when he was once more alone, he murmured, --

"Yes, it is better so. It is much better to leave Miss Brandon inuncertainty. She cannot even suspect that her driving out this morninghas enlightened me. She thinks I am still in the dark; let her believeit. "

Still this letter of hers seemed to prepare some new intrigue, whichtroubled Daniel excessively. Miss Brandon was certain of achieving herend; what more did she want? What other mysterious aim could she have inview?

"Ah! I cannot make it out, " sighed Daniel. "I must consult Brevan. "

On his writing-table he found that important and urgent work which theminister had intrusted to his hands still unfinished. But the minister, the department, his position, his preferment, --all these considerationsweighed as nothing in comparison with his passion. 

He went down, therefore; and, while his carriage drove to his friend'shouse, he thought of the surprise he would cause Maxime. 

When he arrived there, he found M. De Brevan standing in his shirt-sleeves before an immense marble table, covered all over with pots andbottles, with brushes, combs, and sponges, with pincers, polishers, andfiles, making his toilet. 

If he expected Daniel, he had not expected him so soon; for his featuresassumed an expression which seemed to prohibit all confidential talk. But Daniel saw nothing. He shook hands with his friend, and, sinkingheavily into a chair, he said, --

"I went to Miss Brandon. She has made me promise all she wanted. Icannot imagine how it came about!"

"Let us hear, " said M. De Brevan. 

Then, without hesitation, and with all the minutest details, Daniel toldhim how Miss Brandon had taken him into her little boudoir, and how shehad exculpated herself from all complicity with Malgat by showing himthe letters written by that wretched man. 

"Strange letters!" he said, "which, if they are authentic"--

M. De Brevan shrugged his shoulders. 

"You were forewarned, " he said, "and you have promised all she wanted!Do you not think she might have made you sign your own death-sentence?"

"But Kergrist?" said Daniel. "Kergrist's brother is her friend. "

"I dare say. But do you imagine that brother is any cleverer than youare?"

Although he was by no means fully satisfied, Daniel went on, describinghis amazement when Miss Brandon told him that she did not love CountVille-Handry. 

But Maxime burst out laughing, and interrupted him, saying with bitterirony, --

"Of course! And then she went on, telling you that she had never yetloved anybody, having vainly looked in the world for the man of whom shedreamed. She painted to you the phoenix in such colors, that you had tosay to yourself, 'What does she mean? That phoenix! Why, she means me!'That has tickled you prodigiously. She has thrown herself at yourfeet; you have raised her up; she has fainted; she has sobbed like adistressed dove in your arms; you have lost your head. "

Daniel was overcome. He stammered, --

"How did you know?"

Maxime could not look him in the face; but his voice was as steady asever when he replied, in a tone of bitterest sarcasm, --

"I guess it. Did I not tell you I knew Miss Brandon? She has only onecard in her hand; but that is enough; it always makes a trick. "

To have been deceived, and even to have been rendered ridiculous, is oneof those misfortunes which we confess to ourselves, however painfulthe process may be; but to hear another person laugh at us after such athing has happened is more than we can readily bear. Daniel, therefore, did not conceal his impatience, and said rather dryly, --

"If I have been the dupe of Miss Brandon, my dear Maxime, you see, atlast, that I am so no longer. "

"Ah, ah!"

"No, not in the least. And that, thanks to her; for she herself hasdestroyed my illusions. "

"Pshaw!"

"Unconsciously, of course, having ran away from her like a fool, I waswandering about in the streets near her house, when I saw her come outin her _coupe_. "

"Oh, come!"

"I saw her as distinctly as I see you. It was four o'clock in themorning, mind!"

"Is it possible? And what did you do?"

"I followed her. "

M. De Brevan nearly let the brush fall, with which he was polishing hisfinger-nails; but he mastered his confusion so promptly, that Daniel didnot perceive it. 

"Ah! you followed her, " he said in a voice which all his efforts couldnot steady entirely. "Then, of course, you know where she went. "

"Alas, no! She drove so fast, that, quick as I am, I could not followher, and lost sight of her. "

Certainly M. De Brevan was breathing more freely, and said in an easytone, --

"That is provoking, and you have lost a fine opportunity. I am, however, by no means astonished that you are at last enlightened. "

"Oh! I am so; you may believe me. And yet"--

"Well, yet?"

Daniel hesitated, for fear of seeing another sardonic smile appear onMaxime's lips. Still making an effort, he replied, --

"Well, I am asking myself whether all that Miss Brandon states about herchildhood, her family, and her fortune, might not, after all, be true. "

Maxime looked like a sensible man who is forced to listen to the absurdnonsense of an insane person. 

"You think I am absurd, " said Daniel. "Perhaps I am; but, then, do methe favor to explain to me how Miss Brandon, anxious as she must be toconceal her past, could herself point out to me the means to ascertainevery thing about her, and even to learn the precise amount of herincome? America is not so far off!"

M. De Brevan's face no longer expressed astonishment; he lookedabsolutely bewildered. 

"What!" he cried out, "could you seriously think of undertaking a tripto America?"

"Why not?"

"To be sure, my dear friend, you are, in all sincerity, too naive forour age. What! have you not yet been able to divine Miss Brandon'splan? And yet it is patent enough. When she saw you, and had taken yourmeasure, she said to herself, 'Here is an excellent young man who is inmy way, excessively in my way; he must go and breathe a better air a fewthousand miles off. ' And thereupon she suggested to you that pleasanttrip to America. "

After what Daniel had learned about Miss Brandon's character, thisexplanation sounded by no means improbable. Nevertheless, he was notquite satisfied. He objected to it thus:--

"Whether I go or stay, the wedding will still take place. Consequently, she has no interest in my being abroad. Believe me, Maxime, there issomething else underneath. Outside of this marriage, Miss Brandon mustbe pursuing some other plan. "

"What plan?"

"Ah! That is what I cannot find out, to save my life. But you may besure that I am not mistaken. I want no better evidence of it than thefact that she wrote to me this morning. "

M. De Brevan jumped up, and said, --

"What! She has written to you?"

"Yes; it is that accursed letter, more than any thing else, that bringsme here. Here it is, just read it; and, if you can understand it, youare more fortunate than I am. "

At one glance M. De Brevan had read the five lines which Miss Brandonhad written; and, turning deadly pale, he said, --

"This is incomprehensible. A note, and such an indiscreet note, from herwho never writes!"

He looked upon Daniel as if he wished to penetrate his innermostthoughts, and then asked him, weighing his words with the utmost care, --

"If she should really love you, what would you say?"

Daniel looked disgusted. He replied, --"It is hardly generous in you tomake sport of me, Maxime. I may be a fool; but I am not an idiot, to beconceited to that degree. "

"That is no answer to my question, " said Brevan; "and I repeat myquestion. What would you say?"

"I would say that I execrate her!"

"Oh! if you hate her so bitterly, you are very near loving her. "

"I despise her; and without esteem"--

"That is an old story. That is no impediment. "

"Finally, you know how dearly, how ardently, I love Miss Ville-Handry. "

"Of course; but that is not the same thing. "

M. De Brevan had at last finished his careful toilet. He put on adressing-gown; and, carrying Daniel with him into the small room whichhe used as a dressing-room, he asked, --

"And what have you said in reply to that note?"

"Nothing. "

M. De Brevan had thrown himself into a comfortable chair, and assumedthe careful air of a physician who has been consulted. He nodded, andsaid, --

"You have done well, and for the future I advise you to pursue the sameplan. Don't say a word. Can you do any thing to prevent Miss Brandonfrom carrying out her purposes? No! Let her go on, then. "

"But"--

"Let me finish. It is not only your own interest to act thus, but alsoMiss Henrietta's interest. The day on which they part you, you will beinconsolable; but you will also be free to act. She, on the other hand, will be forced to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon; and you donot know what a stepmother can do to torture the child of her husband!"

Daniel trembled. He had already thought of that; and the idea had madehim shudder. Brevan continued, --

"For the present, the most important thing is to find out how yourflight has been explained. We may be able to draw our conclusions fromwhat has been said on the subject. "

"I'll go at once and try to find out, " said Daniel. 

And, after having affectionately shaken hands with Maxime, he hurrieddown to his carriage and drove as fast as he could to Count Ville-Handry's palace. The count was at home and alone, walking up and downin the most excited manner. And certainly he had enough to excite andpreoccupy him just now. It was nearly noon; and he had not yet been inthe hands of his valet. When he saw Daniel, he paused for a moment, and, crossing his arms on his breast, he said, in a terrible tone, --

"Ah! here you are, M. Champcey. Well, you are doing nice things!"

"I, count? How so?"

"How so? Who else has overwhelmed poor Miss Sarah with insults at thevery time when she was trying to explain every thing to you? Whoelse, ashamed of his scandalous conduct, has run away, never daring toreappear at her house?"

What had the count been told? Certainly not the truth. He went on, --

"And do you know, M. Champcey, what has been the effect of yourbrutality? Miss Brandon has been seized with such a terrible nervousattack, that they had to send the carriage for a doctor. You unluckyman, you might have killed her! They would, of course, never haveallowed me to enter her own room; but from the reception-room I could attimes hear her painful cries and sobs. It was only after eight o'clockthis morning that she could get any rest; and then Mrs. Brian, takingpity on _my_ great grief, granted me the favor to see her, sleeping likean infant. "

Daniel listened, stupefied by amazement, utterly confounded by theimpudence of Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian, and hardly able to understand thecount's astonishing credulity. He thought to himself, --

"This is abominable! Here I am an accomplice of this Miss Brandon. MustI actually aid her in obtaining possession of this unlucky man?"

But what could he do? Should he speak? Should he tell Count Ville-Handry, that if he really heard cries of pain, and sobs, they werecertainly not uttered by Miss Brandon? Should he tell him, that, whilehe was dying with anxiety, his beloved was driving about Paris, Heavenknows where and with whom. 

The thought of doing so occurred to Daniel. But what would have been thegood of it? Would the count believe him? Most probably not. And thushe would only add new difficulties to his position, which was alreadycomplicated enough. Finally, he saw very, clearly that he would neverdare tell the whole truth, or show that letter which he had in hispocket. Still he tried to excuse himself, and began, --

"I am too much of a gentleman to insult a woman. "

The count interrupted him rudely, saying, --

"Spare me, I pray, a rigmarole which cannot affect me. Besides, I do notblame you particularly. I know the heart of man too well not to be sure, that, in acting thus, you have followed much less the inspirations ofyour own heart than the suggestions made by my daughter. "

It might have been very dangerous for Henrietta to allow the count tocherish such thoughts. Daniel, therefore, tried once more to explain. 

"I assure you, count"--

But the count interrupted him fiercely, stamping with his foot. 

"No more! I mean to make an end to this absurd opposition, and to breakit forever. Do they not know that I am master in my own house? and dothey propose to treat me like a servant, and to laugh at me, into thebargain? I shall make you aware who is master. "

He checked himself for an instant, and then continued, --

"Ah, M. Champcey! I did not expect that from you. Poor Sarah! To thinkthat I could not spare her such a humiliation! But it is the last; andthis very morning, as soon as she wakes, she shall know that all isended. I have just sent for my daughter to tell her that the day forthe wedding is fixed. All the formalities are fulfilled. We have thenecessary papers"--

He paused, for Henrietta came in. 

"You wish to speak to me, papa?" she said as she entered the room. 

"Yes. "

Greeting Daniel with a sweet glance of her eyes, Henrietta walked up tothe count, and offered him her forehead to kiss; but he pushed her backrudely, and said, assuming an air of supreme solemnity, --

"I have sent for you, my daughter, to inform you that to-morrowfortnight I shall marry Miss Brandon. "

Henrietta must have been prepared for something of the kind, for shedid not move. She turned slightly pale; and a ray of wrath shot from hereyes. The count went on, --

"Under these circumstances, it is not proper, it is hardly decent, thatyou should not know her who is to be your mother hereafter. I shalltherefore present you to her this very day, in the afternoon. "

The young girl shook her head gently, and then she said, --

"No!"

Count Ville-Handry had become very red. He exclaimed, --

"What! You dare! What would you say if I threatened to carry youforcibly to Miss Brandon's house?"

"I, should say, father, that that is the only way to make me go there. "

Her attitude was firm, though not defiant. She spoke in a calm, gentlevoice, but betrayed in every thing a resolution firmly formed, and notto be shaken by any thing. The count seemed to be perfectly amazed atthis audacity shown by a girl who was usually so timid. He said, --

"Then you detest, you envy, this Miss Brandon?"

"I, father? Why should I? Great God! I only know that she cannot becomethe Countess Ville-Handry, --she who has filled all Paris with evilreports. "

"Who has told you so? No doubt, M. Champcey. "

"Everybody has told me, father. "

"So, because she has been slandered, the poor girl"--

"I am willing to think she is innocent; but the Countess Ville-Handrymust not be a slandered woman. "

She raised herself to her full height, and added in a higher voice, --

"You are master here, father; you can do as you choose. But I--I owe itto myself and to the sacred memory of my mother, to protest by all themeans in my power; and I shall protest. "

The count stammered and stared. The blood rose to his head. He criedout, --

"At last I know you, Henrietta, and I understand you. _I_ was notmistaken. It was you who sent M. Daniel Champcey to Miss Brandon, toinsult her at her own house. "

"Sir!" interrupted M. Daniel in a threatening tone. 

But the count could not be restrained; and, with his eyes almoststarting from their sockets, he continued, --

"Yes, I read your innermost heart, Henrietta. You are afraid of losing apart of your inheritance. "

Stung by this insult, Henrietta had stepped up close to her father, --

"But don't you see, father, that it is this woman who wants yourfortune, and that she does not like us, and cannot like us?"

"Why, if you please?"

Once before, Count Ville-Handry had asked this question of his daughterin almost the same words. Then she had not dared answer him; but now, carried away by her bitterness at being insulted by a woman whom shedespised, she forgot every thing. She seized her father's hand, and, carrying him to a mirror, she said in a hoarse voice, --

"'Why?'--you ask. Well, look there! look at yourself!"

If Count Ville-Handry had trusted nature, he would have looked like aman of barely sixty, still quite robust and active. But he had allowedart to spoil every thing. And this morning, with his few hairs, halfwhite, half dyed, with the rouge and the white paint of yesterdaycracked, and fallen away in places, he looked as if he had lived a fewthousand years. 

Did he see himself as he really was, --hideous?

He certainly became livid; and coldly, for his excessive rage gave himthe appearance of composure, he said, --

"You are a wretch, Henrietta!"

And as she broke out in sobs, terrified by his words, he said, --

"Oh, don't play comedy! Presently, at four o'clock precisely, I shallcall for you. If I find you dressed, and ready to accompany me to MissBrandon's house, all right. If not M. Champcey has been here for thelast time in his life; and you will never--do you hear?--never be hiswife. Now I leave you alone; you can reflect!"

And he went out, closing the door so violently, that the whole houseseemed to shake. 

"All is over!"

Both Henrietta and Daniel were crushed by this certain conviction. 

The crisis could no longer be postponed. A few hours more, and themischief would be done. Daniel was the first to shake off the stupor ofdespair; and, taking Henrietta's hand, he asked her, --

"You have heard what your father said. What will you do?"

"What I said I would do, whatever it may cost me. "

"But could you yield?"

"Yield?" exclaimed the young girl. 

And, looking at Daniel with grieved surprise, she added, --

"Would you really dare give me that advice, --you who had only to look atMiss Brandon to lose your self-control so far as to overwhelm her withinsults?"

"Henrietta, I swear"--

"And this to such an extent, that father accused you of having done soat my bidding. Ah, you have been very imprudent, Daniel!"

The unhappy man wrung his hands with despair. What punishment he hadto endure for a moment's forgetfulness! He felt as if he had renderedhimself guilty already by not revealing the mean conduct of M. Elgin andMrs. Brian while Miss Brandon was driving about Paris. And now, at thisvery hour, he was put into a still more difficult position, because hecould not even give a glimpse of the true state of things. 

He said nothing; and Henrietta gloried in his silence. 

"You see, " she said, "that if your heart condemns me, your reason andyour conscience approve of my decision. "

He made no reply, but, rising suddenly, he began to walk up and down inthe room like a wild beast searching for some outlet from the cage inwhich it has been imprisoned. He felt he was caught, hemmed in on allsides, and he could do nothing, nothing at all. 

"Ah, we must surrender!" he exclaimed at last, overcome with grief; "wemust do it; we are almost helpless. Let us give up the struggle; reasondemands it. We have done enough; we have done our duty. "

All trembling with passion, he spoke on for some time, bringing up themost conclusive arguments, one by one; while his love lent him all itspersuasive power. And at last it looked as if Henrietta's determinationwere giving way, and she began to hesitate. It was so; but she wasstill struggling against her own emotion, and said in a half-suppressedtone, --

"No doubt, Daniel, you think I am not yet wretched enough. "

And then, fixing upon him a long, anxious glance, she added, --

"Say no more, or I shall begin to fear that you are dreading the timewhich has still to elapse till we can be united, and that you doubtme--or yourself. "

He blushed, finding himself thus half detected; but, given up entirelyto sinister presentiments, he insisted, --

"No, I do not doubt; but I cannot reconcile myself to the idea that youare going to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon, M. Elgin, andMrs. Brian. Since this abominable adventuress must triumph, let us flee. I have in Anjou an old respectable kinswoman, who will be very proud tooffer you her hospitality. "

Henrietta stopped him by a gesture. Then she said, --

"In other words, I who risk my happiness in order to avoid a blot uponthe name of Ville-Handry, I should tarnish it in an almost ineffaceablemanner. That cannot be. "

"Henrietta!"

"No more. I stand upon a post of honor which I shall not abandon. Themore formidable Miss Brandon is, the more it becomes my duty to remainhere in order to watch over my father. "

Daniel trembled. 

He remembered suddenly what M. De Brevan had told him of the meansemployed by Miss Brandon for the purpose of getting rid of troublesomepeople. Did Henrietta's instincts make her anticipate a crime? No, notsuch a crime, at least. 

"You will understand my decision all the better, " she continued, "if Itell you what a strange discovery I have made. This morning a gentlemancalled here, who said he was a business-man, and had an appointment withCount Ville-Handry which was of the utmost importance. 

"The servants had told him that their master was out. He became angry, and began to talk so loud, that I came to see what was the matter. Whenhe saw me, and found out who I was, he at once became very quiet, andbegged me to take charge of a rough copy of a legal paper, which he hadbeen directed to prepare secretly, and which he desired me to hand to myfather. 

"I promised to do so; but, as I was carrying the paper up stairs to putit upon my father's bureau, I happened to look at it. Do you knowwhat it was? The statutes of a new society, of which father was to bepresident. "

"Great God! Is it possible?"

"Most assuredly, unfortunately. I saw on the top of the paper, 'CountVille-Handry, director in chief' and after the name followed all histitles, the high offices he has filled, and the French and foreigndecorations which he has received. "

Daniel could no longer doubt. He said, --

"We knew that they would try to obtain possession of your father'sfortune, and now we have the proof of it. But what can we ever do, Henrietta, against the cunning manoeuvres of people like these?"

She bowed her head, and answered in a tone of resignation, --

"I have heard it said that often the mere presence of an inoffensivechild is sufficient to intimidate and frighten away the boldestcriminals. If God wills it so, I will be that child. "

Daniel tried once more to insist; but she cut him short, saying, --

"You forget, my dear friend, that this is, perhaps for many years, thelast time we shall ever be alone together. Let us think of the future. I have secured the confidence of one of my waiting-women, and to her youmust direct your letters. Her name is Clarissa Pontois. If any grave andunforeseen necessity should arise, and it becomes absolutely necessaryfor me to see you, Clarissa will bring you the key of the littlegarden-gate, and you will come. "

Both of them had their eyes filled with tears; and their hearts feltincreasing anguish as the hand on the dial advanced. They knew theywould have to part. Could they hope ever to meet again?

It struck four o'clock. Count Ville-Handry reappeared. Stung to thequick by what he called the insulting remarks of his daughter, hehad stimulated the zeal of his valet; and that artist had evidentlysurpassed himself in the arrangement of the hair, and especially in thecomplexion. 

"Well, Henrietta?" he asked. 

"My decision remains unchanged, father. "

The count was probably prepared for this answer; for he succeeded incontrolling his fury. 

"Once more, Henrietta, " he said, "consider! Do not decide rashly, relying simply upon odious slanders. "

He drew from his pocket a photograph, looked at it lovingly, and, handing it to his daughter, he added, --

"Here is Miss Brandon's portrait. Look at it, and see if she to whomGod has given such a charming face, such sublime eyes, can have a badheart. "

For more than a minute Henrietta examined the likeness; and then, returning it to her father, she said coldly, --

"This woman is beautiful beyond all conception. Now I can explain tomyself that new society of which you are going to be director-general. "

Count Ville-Handry turned pale under this "juncture, " and cried in aterrible voice, --

"Unhappy child! Unhappy child! You dare insult an angel?"

Maddened with rage, he had lifted up his hand, and was about to strikehis daughter, when Daniel seized his wrist in his iron grasp, andthreateningly, as if he himself was about to strike, he said, --

"Ah, sir, have a care! have a care!"

The count cast upon him a look of concentrated hatred; but, regaininghis self-control, he freed himself, and, pointing at the door, he saidslowly, --

"M. Champcey, I order you to leave this house instantly; and I forbidyour ever coming back to it again. My servants will be informed, that, if any one of them ever allows you to cross the threshold of this house, he will be instantly dismissed. Go, sir!"

XI. 

Twenty-four hours after Daniel had thus left Count Ville-Handry'spalace, pale and staggering, he had not yet entirely recovered fromthis last blow. He had made a mortal enemy of the man whom it was hisgreatest interest to manage; and this man, who of his own accord wouldhave parted with him only regretfully, had now turned him disgracefullyout of his house. 

He could hardly account to himself for the way in which this had comeabout. Nay, more; retracing step by step, his conduct during the lastfew days, it appeared to him pitiful, absurd. And then all that hadhappened seemed to have turned against him. 

He accused Fate, that blind goddess, who is always blamed by those whohave not the courage to blame themselves. He was in this state of mindwhen there came to him, to his great surprise, a letter from Henrietta. Thus it was she who anticipated him, and who, sure that he would bedesperate, had the feminine delicacy to write to him almost cheerfully. 

"Immediately after your departure, my dear Daniel, father ordered me upstairs, and decided that I should stay there till I should become morereasonable. I know I shall stay here a long time. "

She concluded thus, --

"What we want most of all, oh, my only friend! is courage. Will you haveas much as your Henrietta?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly! I shall have all that is needed, " exclaimedDaniel, moved to tears. 

And he vowed to himself that he would devote himself, heart and soul, to his work, and there find, if not forgetfulness, at least peace. Hefound, however, that to swear was easier than to do. In spite of allhis efforts, he could not fix his thoughts upon any thing else but hismisfortunes. The studies which he had formerly pursued with delight nowfilled him with disgust. The balance of his whole life was so completelydestroyed, that he was not able to restore it. 

The existence which he now led was that of a desperate man. As soon ashe had risen, he hurried to M. De Brevan, and remained in his companyas long as he could. Left alone, he wandered at haphazard along theBoulevards, or up the Champs Elysees. He dined early, hurried homeagain, and, putting on a rough overcoat which he had worn on board ship, he went to roam around the palace of his beloved. 

There, behind those heavy, beautifully carved gates, which were open toall comers but to him, lived she who was more to him than his life. Ifhe had struck the flagstones of the sidewalk with the heel of his boots, she would have heard the sound. He could hear the music of her piano;and yet the will of one man placed an abyss between them. 

He was dying of inaction. It seemed to him atrocious, humiliating, intolerable, to be thus reduced to expecting good or evil fortune fromfate, passively, without making an effort, like a man, who having takena ticket in a lottery, and is all anxiety to obtain a large fortune, crosses his arms and waits for the drawing. 

He was suffering thus for six days, and saw no end of it; when onemorning, just as he was going out, his bell rang. He went to open thedoor. 

It was a lady, who, without saying a word, swiftly walked in, and aspromptly shut the door behind her. 

Although she was wrapped up in a huge cloak which completely hidher figure, in spite of the very thick veil before her face, Danielrecognized her at once. 

"Miss Brandon!" he exclaimed. 

In the meantime she had raised her veil, "Yes, it is I, " she replied, "risking another calumny in addition to all the others that have beenraised against me, Daniel. "

Amazed at a step which seemed to him the height of imprudence, heremained standing in the anteroom, and did not even think of invitingMiss Brandon to go into the next room, his study. 

She went in of her own accord, quite aloof; and, when he had followedher, she said to him, --

"I came, sir, to ask you what you have done with that promise you gaveme the other night at my house?"

She waited a moment; and, as he did not reply, she went on, --

"Come, I see you are like all men, if they pledge their word to anotherman, who is a match for them, they consider it a point of honor to keepit, but if it is a woman, then they do not keep it, and boast of it!"

Daniel was furious; but she pretended not to see it, and said morecoldly, --

"I--I have a better memory than you, sir; and I mean to prove it to you. I know what has happened at Count Ville-Handry's house; he has told meall. You have allowed yourself to be carried away so far as to threatenhim, to raise your hand against him. "

"He was going to strike his daughter, and I held his arm. "

"No, sir! my dear count is incapable of such violence; and yet his owndaughter had dared to taunt him with his weakness, pretending that hehad been induced by me to establish a new industrial company. "

Daniel said nothing. 

"And you, " continued Miss Brandon, --"you allowed Miss Henrietta to sayall these offensive and absurd things. I should induce the count toengage in an enterprise where money might be lost! Why? What interestcould I have?"

Her voice began to tremble; and her beautiful eyes filled with tears. 

"Interest!" she went on to say, "money! The world can think of no othermotive nowadays. Money! I have enough of it. If I marry the count, youknow why I do it, --you! And you also know that it depended, and perhaps, at this moment, still depends upon one single man, whether I shall breakoff that match this very day, now. "

As she said this, she looked at him in a manner which would have causeda statue to tremble on its marble pedestal. 

But he, with his heart full of hatred, remained icy, enjoying therevenge which was thus presented to him. 

"I will believe whatever you wish to say, " he answered in a mockingtone, "if you will answer me a single question. "

"Ask, sir. "

"The other night, when I had left you, where did you go in yourcarriage?"

He expected to see her confused, turning pale, stammer. Not at all. 

"What, you know that?" she said, with an accent of admirable candor. "Ah! I committed an act of almost as great imprudence as I now do. Ifsome fool should see me leave your rooms?"

"Pardon me, Miss Brandon, that is no answer to my question. Where didyou go?"

And as she kept silent, surprised by Daniel's firmness, he saidsneeringly, --

"Then you confess that it would be madness to believe you? Let us breakoff here, and pray to God that I may be able to forget all the wrong youhave done me. "

Miss Brandon's beautiful eyes filled with tears of grief or of rage. Shefolded her hands, and said in a suppliant tone, --

"I conjure you, M. Champcey, grant me only five minutes. I must speak toyou. If you knew"--

He could not turn her out; he bowed profoundly before her, and withdrewinto his bedroom, closing the door behind him. But he immediatelyapplied his eye to the keyhole, and saw Miss Brandon, her featuresconvulsed with rage, threaten him with her closed hand, and leave theroom hastily. 

"She was going to dig another pit for me, " thought Daniel. 

And the idea that he had avoided it made him, for a part of that dayat least, forget his sorrow. But on the following day he found, whenhe returned home, a formidable document from the navy department, andinside two letters. 

One informed him that he had been promoted to be a lieutenant. 

The other ordered him to report four days hence at Rochefort, on boardthe frigate "Conquest, " which was lying in the roadstead waiting for twobattalions of marines to be transferred to Cochin China. 

Daniel had for long years, and with all the eager ambition of a youngman, desired the promotion which he now obtained. That rank had been thesupreme goal of all his dreams since the day on which he learned at thenavy school the rudiments of his perilous vocation. How often, as hestood leaning against the monkey-railing, and saw boats passing by whichcarried officers, had he said to himself, --

"When I am a navy lieutenant!"

Well, now he was a lieutenant. But alas! his wishes, thus realized, filled him only with disgust and bitterness, like those golden apples, which, at a distance, shine brightly in the branches of magic trees, andunder the touch of the hand turn into dust and ashes. 

For with the news of his promotion came also the fatal order to adistant shore. Why did they send such an order to him, who had at thedepartment an office in which he could render valuable services, whileso many of his comrades, waiting idly in port, watched anxiously, andwith almost feverish impatience, for a chance to go into active service?

"Ah!" he said to himself, his heart filled with rage, "how could I failto recognize in this abominable treachery Miss Brandon's cunning hand?"

First she had closed against him the gates of Count Ville-Handry'spalace, and thus separated him from his beloved Henrietta, so that theycould not meet nor speak to each other. 

But this was not enough for the accursed adventuress. She wanted toraise a barrier between them which should be more than a mere moraland social obstacle, one of those difficulties which no human power, nolover's ingenuity, could overcome, --the ocean and thousands of miles. 

"Oh, no!" he cried in his anguish, "a thousand times no! Rather give upmy career, rather send in my resignation. "

Hence, the very next day, he put on his uniform, determined to lay thematter, first before that officer who was his immediate superior, butresolved, if he should not succeed there, to go up to the ministerhimself. 

He had never worn that uniform since the night of a large court-ball, where he had danced with Henrietta. It was nearly a year ago, a fewweeks before the death of the Countess Ville-Handry. As he compared hishappiness in those days with his present desperate condition, he wasdeeply moved; and his eyes were still brimful of tears when he reachedthe navy department, towards ten o'clock in the morning. 

The officer whom he called upon was an old captain, an excellent man, who had practised the appearance of a grim, stern official so long, thathe had finally become in reality what he only wished to appear. 

Seeing Daniel enter his office, he thought he came to inform him of hispromotion, and made a great effort to smile as he hailed him with thewords, --

"Well, Lieut. Champcey, we are satisfied, I hope?"

And, perceiving that Daniel did not wear the epaulets of his new rank, he added, --

"But how is that, lieutenant? Perhaps you have not heard yet?"

"I beg your pardon, captain. "

"Why on earth, then, have you no epaulets?"

And he began to frown terribly, considering that such carelessnessaugured ill for the service. Daniel excused himself as well as he could, which was very little, and then boldly approached the purpose of hiscall. 

"I have received an order for active service. "

"I know, --on board 'The Conquest, ' in the roadstead at Rochefort, forCochin China. "

"I have to be at my post in four days. "

"And you think the time too short? It is short. But impossible to grantyou ten minutes more. "

"I do not ask for leave of absence, captain; I want the favor--to beallowed to keep my place here. "

The old officer could hardly keep his seat. 

"You would prefer not going on board ship, " he exclaimed, "the very dayafter your promotion? Ah, come, you are mad!"

Daniel shook his head sadly. 

"Believe me, captain, " he replied, "I obey the most imperative duty. "

Leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, the captainseemed to look for such a duty; then he asked suddenly, --

"Is it your family that keeps you?"

"If my place can really not be filled by one of my comrades, I shall becompelled to send in my resignation. "

The old sailor bounded as he heard that word, and said furiously, --

"I told you you were a fool!"

In spite of his determination, Daniel was too much troubled not tocommit a blunder. He insisted, --

"It is a matter of life and death with me, captain. And if you only knewmy reasons; if I could tell them"--

"Reasons which cannot be told are always bad reasons, sir. I insist uponwhat I have told you. "

"Then, captain, I shall be compelled, to my infinite sorrow, to insistupon offering my resignation. "

The old sailor's brow became darker and darker. He growled. 

"Your resignation, your resignation! You talk of it very lightly. Itremains to be seen whether it will be accepted. 'The Conquest' does notsail on a pleasure-party; she is sent out on a serious campaign, andwill probably be absent for some time. We have unpleasant complicationsdown there and are sending out reinforcements. You are still in France;but you are actually under orders to meet the enemy; Men do not resignin the face of the enemy, Lieut. Champcey!"

Daniel had turned very pale. 

"You are severe, captain, " he said. 

"I have no idea, I assure you, of being gentle; and, if that can induceyou to change your mind"--

"Unfortunately, I cannot alter my decision. "

The old sailor rose violently, and walked up and down the room severaltimes, giving vent to his anger in oaths of various kinds; then hereturned to Daniel, and said in his driest tone, --

"If that is so, the case is serious; I must report it to the secretaryof the navy. What time is it? Eleven o'clock. Come here again at half-past twelve. I shall have settled the matter then. "

Quite certain that his superior would say nothing in his favor, Danielretired, walking hurriedly through the narrow passages, when a joyousvoice hailed him, calling out, "Champcey!"

He turned, and found himself face to face with two of his comrades, withwhom he had been most intimate at school. They said eagerly, --

"So you are our superior now?"

And, with the utmost sincerity, they began to congratulate him, delighted, as they said, that such good luck should have fallen upon aman like him, whom everybody thought worthy of the distinction, and whoreflected honor upon the service. No enemy could have inflicted suchsuffering upon Daniel as these two friends did. There was not one oftheir good wishes which did not amount to a bitter sarcasm; every wordthey said told upon him. 

"You must confess, however, " they continued, "that you are a lucky man, like no other. One day you are made a lieutenant; and the next day theyoffer you active service. The next time we meet, you will be a captainin command of a frigate. "

"I am not going out, " replied Daniel, fiercely. "I have handed in myresignation. "

And, leaving his two friends looking utterly amazed, he went away at arapid pace. 

Certainly, he had not foreseen all these difficulties; and in his blindwrath he charged his chief with injustice and tyranny. He said, --

"I must stay in Paris; and I will stay. "

Reflection, far from calming him, only excited him the more. Having lefthome with the intention of offering his resignation only in an extremecase, he was now determined to adhere to his plan, even if they shouldoffer him full satisfaction. Had he not an ample income of his own?and could he not always find an honorable occupation? That would befar better than to continue in a profession where one is never his ownmaster, but lives eternally under the dread of some order that may sendhim, at a moment's warning, to heaven knows what part of the world. 

That was the way he reasoned with himself while breakfasting at a tavernnot far off; and when he returned to the department, a little aftertwelve, he looked upon himself as already no longer belonging to thenavy, and in his imagination caring little for the final decision. 

It was the hour for receptions, when everybody who had any business atthe department came to look after his interests; and the anteroomwas filled with officers of every grade, some in uniform, others incitizen's dress. 

The conversation was very animated; for Daniel heard the sounds from theouter passage. 

He entered; and there was silence, --sudden, deep, chilling silence. 

Evidently they had been talking about him. 

Even if he could have doubted it for a moment, he read it in the facesturned aside, the forced smiles, and the cautious glances with which hewas received. He thought, very much troubled, --

"What can this mean?"

In the meantime a young man in citizen's dress, whom he did not know, called out from one side of the room to the other, to an old officerin a seedy uniform, with blackened epaulets (a real sea-dog), lean, bronzed, wrinkled, and with eyes bearing the traces of recentophthalmy, --

"Why do you stop, lieutenant? We were much interested, I assure you. "

The lieutenant seemed to hesitate, as if he were making up his mind todo a disagreeable thing, which still did not depend on his choice; andthen he resumed his account, --

"Well, we got there, convinced that we had taken all the necessaryprecautions, and that there was, consequently, nothing to fear, --fineprecautions they turned out to be! In the course of a week the wholecrew was laid up; and as to the staff, little Bertram and I were theonly officers able to appear on deck. Moreover, my eyes were in a state. You see what they say now. The captain was the first to die; the sameevening five sailors followed suit, and seven the next day; the dayafter the first lieutenant and two of the noncommissioned officers. Thelike was never seen before. "

Daniel turned to his neighbor. 

"Who is that officer?" he asked. 

"Lieut. Dutac of 'The Valorous, ' just returned from Cochin China. "

Light broke upon Daniel's mind; it was a painful light. 

"When did 'The Valorous' come in?" he asked again. 

"Six days ago she made the harbor of Brest. "

The other man went on, --

"And thus, you see, we left a goodly portion of our crew out there. That is a campaign! As to my own notions, this is what I think, --a nastycountry, a wretched climate, a people fit for the gallows. "

"Certainly, " said the young man in citizen's dress, "things are notpleasant in Cochin China. "

"Ah, but still"--

"What if you were ordered back?"

"I would go, of course. Somebody must go, you know, and carryreinforcements there; but I should not care if somebody else"--

He shrugged his shoulders, and said stoically, --

"And besides, since we navy men must be eaten by the fish some time orother, it does not matter very much when that takes place. "

Was not that, in a trivial, but terribly impressive manner, preciselythe same thing that Daniel had been told by his captain? People do notresign when they face the enemy. 

It was very evident that the officers who were there assembled doubtedhis courage, and were discussing the fact when he entered. It was clearthat they attributed his resignation to fear. 

At this idea, that he might be suspected of cowardice, Daniel trembledall over. What could he do to prove that he was not a coward? Should hechallenge every one of these men, and fight one, two, ten duels? Wouldthat prove that he had not shrunk from the unknown perils of a newcountry, from the dangers of an armed invasion, and a fatal climate? No;unless he was willing to remain a marked man for life, he must go;yes, go, since out there dangers awaited him of which he was held to beafraid. 

He went up, therefore, to the old lieutenant, and said, in a voice loudenough to be heard by every one in the room, --

"My good comrade, I had just been ordered to the place you come from, and I had sent in my resignation; but after what you have said, --thingsI knew nothing of, --I shall go. "

There was a murmur of approbation. And one voice said, "Ah! I was sureof it!" and that was all. But it was quite enough to prove to Danielthat he had chosen the only way to save his honor, which had been inimminent peril. But, simple as the whole scene was in itself, it wasvery extraordinary, in view of the usual reserve which prevails amongsailors. And, besides, does it not happen almost every day, that anofficer ordered to some station requests and obtains leave to exchangewith some one else, and nothing is said?

Daniel felt that underneath the whole affair there was some diabolicintrigue. If Miss Brandon had really procured this order to activeservice, was it not likely that she would have taken her measures, sothat he could not possibly avoid going? Were all these men in citizen'sdress whom he saw there really navy officers? The young man who hadasked Lieut. Dutac to go on in his story had disappeared. Daniel wentfrom one to the other, inquiring who that clever young man was, but invain. Soon a summons came for him to appear in the superior's office. Hehastened there; and, as he opened the door, he said, --

"I'll follow your advice, captain. In three days I shall be on board'The Conquest. '"

The captain's stern face cleared up, and he said approvingly, --

"All right! You did well to change your mind; for your business began tolook very ugly. The minister is very angry with you. "

"The minister? And why?"

"_Primo_, he had charged you with a very important duty. "

"To be sure, " stammered Daniel, hanging his head; "but I have been soseverely suffering!"

The fact is, he had totally forgotten that unlucky work. 

"_Secundo_, " continued the old officer, "he was doubtful whether youwere in your right senses, and I agree with him, since he has told methat you yourself have solicited this appointment on foreign service inthe most urgent terms. "

Daniel was stunned, and stammered out, --

"His Excellency is mistaken. "

"Ah! I beg your pardon, M. Champcey; I have myself seen your letter. "

But already a sudden inspiration had, like a flash of lightning, clearedup the mystery in Daniel's mind. 

"Ah! I wish I could see it too! Captain, I beseech you show me thatletter!"

The old officer began almost to think that Champcey was really not inhis right mind. He answered, --

"I do not have it; but it is among your papers in the bureau forPersonal Affairs. "

In a minute Daniel was in the office where those papers were kept, andobtained, not without much trouble, and under certain conditions only, leave to look at his papers. He opened the parcel with feverish haste;and the very first paper that fell in his hands was a letter, dated theday before, in which he urgently requested the minister to grant him thespecial favor of being sent out with the expedition to Cochin China onboard the frigate "Conquest. "

Daniel was, of course, perfectly sure that he had written no suchletter. 

But the handwriting was so precisely like his own, letter for letter, and even his signature was so admirably imitated, that he felt for amoment utterly bewildered, mistrusting, for a second, his own eyes, hisown reason. The whole was done so exceedingly well, that if the matterhad been one of ordinary importance, and the date of the letter had goneback to a fortnight or so ago, he would certainly have suspected hismemory rather than the letter before him. 

Overcome by the atrocity of such a trick, he exclaimed, --

"It is almost incredible!"

It was, however, only too certain, too indisputable, that the lettercould not have been dictated by any one but Miss Brandon. No doubt, oneof her accomplices, perhaps the great Sir Thorn himself, had written it. Ah! now Daniel understood the insolent assurance of Miss Brandon, whenshe insisted upon his taking poor Malgat's letters, and repeatedly said, "Go and show them to the clerks who have known that unhappy man for longyears, and they will tell you if they are his own. " Most assuredly hewould have met with no one bold enough to say the contrary, if Malgat'shandwriting had been copied with the same distressing perfection as hisown. 

Still he might, perhaps, profit by this strange event; but how?

Ought he to mention his discovery? What would have been the use? Wouldthey believe him, if he accused her of forgery, of a trick unsurpassedin boldness and wickedness? Would they even consent to an investigation;and, if they instituted one, what would be the result? Where would theyfind an expert ready to swear that this letter was not written by him, when he himself, if each line had been presented to him separately, would have felt bound to acknowledge it as his own?

Was it not far more probable, on the contrary, that, after what he haddone in the morning, they would have ascribed his charges to a mistake, or seen in them a weak invention in order to cover his retreat?Therefore it was a thousand times better to keep silence, to be resignedto postpone to another day every attempt to avenge himself in amanner corresponding to the injury he had suffered, and all the moreeffectively, as his vengeance would have been carefully matured. 

But he did not wish that false letter, which might become a formidablepiece of evidence against him, to remain among his papers; no doubt MissBrandon would soon find an opportunity of having it withdrawn. He asked, therefore, for leave to copy it, obtained permission, went to work, andsucceeded, without being seen by anybody, in substituting his copy forthe original. 

When this was done, knowing that he had not a minute to lose, heinstantly left the department, and, jumping into a carriage, drove to M. De Brevan. 

XII. 

Like all energetic natures, Daniel felt a wonderful relief as soon as hehad formed an irrevocable decision. He would even have enjoyed the peacethat had once more returned to his mind, but for the savage hatred whichhad accumulated in his heart, and which confused his thoughts wheneverhe remembered Miss Brandon. 

Providentially, it seemed to him, Maxime had not gone out, or, rather, having been to breakfast at the English cafe with some of his friends, he had just returned. 

In ten words Daniel had told him every thing, and even shown him thatmasterpiece of forgery, which he attributed to Miss Brandon's mind, andM. Elgin's skill. Then, without heeding Maxime's exclamations of wonderand indignation, loud and deep as they were, he continued, --

"Now, my dear Maxime, listen to me. It may be my last will which I amgoing to give in your charge. "

And, when his friend tried to remonstrate, he insisted, --

"I know what I am saying. I am sure I hope I shall not be buried outthere; but the climate is murderous, and I may encounter a cannon-ball. It is always better to be prepared. "

He paused a moment to collect his thoughts; and then he went on. 

"You alone, in this world, Maxime, know all my private affairs. I haveno secret from you. I have friends whom I have known longer than you;but I have none in whom I feel more confidence. Besides, my old friendsare all sailors, --men, who, like myself, may at any moment be sent, Heaven knows where. Now I want a reliable, safe, and experienced man, possessed of prudence and energy, and sure not to leave Paris. Will yoube that man, Maxime?"

M. De Brevan, who had remained in his chair, rose, and, putting his handon his heart, said, --

"Between us, Daniel, oaths are useless; don't you think so? I say, therefore, simply, you may count upon me. "

"And I do count upon you, " exclaimed Daniel, --"yes, blindly andabsolutely; and I am going to give you a striking proof of it. "

For a few moments it looked as if he were trying to find some brief andyet impressive form for his communication; and then he said, speakingvery rapidly, --

"If I leave in despair, it is because I leave Henrietta in the hands ofthe enemy. What persecution she will have to endure! My heart bleeds atthe mere thought. Miss Brandon must be meditating some terrible blow, orshe would not have been so anxious to keep me at a distance. "

He sobbed almost, so great was his excitement; but he instantly becamemaster again of his emotion, and continued, --

"Well, Maxime, I shall ask you to watch over Henrietta. I intrust her toyou as I would intrust her to my brother, if I had one. "

M. De Brevan was about to state some objections; but Daniel cut himshort, saying, --

"I will tell you how and in what manner you can watch over MissVille-Handry. To-morrow evening I shall see her, and tell her the newmisfortune which has befallen us. I shall take leave of her then. I knowshe will be terrified; but then, to reassure her, I shall explain to herthat I leave her a friend, another myself, ready, like myself, to assisther at her first summons, and ready, like myself, to run any danger inorder to succor her. I shall tell her to appeal to you as if it were tomyself; to write to you as she used to write to me; to keep you informedof all they may attempt to do; to consult and to obey you withouthesitation. 

"As to what you will have to do, Maxime, I cannot tell you that, evenin a general way, as I know nothing of Miss Brandon's plans. I relyupon your experience to do what is most expedient. Still there are twoalternatives which I can foresee. It may be that her father's housebecomes impossible for Henrietta, and that she should wish to leaveit. It may also be, that, under certain circumstances, you may think itinexpedient for her to remain there, and that you have to advise herto escape. In either case, you will take Henrietta to an old lady, arelative of mine, who lives at the Rosiers, a little village in thedepartment of Maine-et-Loire, and whose address I will give you, while Iwill inform her beforehand of what may happen. "

He paused, trying to remember if there was any thing else, and, recalling nothing, he said, --

"This, my dear Maxime, is all I expect you to do for me. "

With open brow, a clear eye, and grave face, M. De Brevan replied ina solemn tone of voice, speaking like a man who feels that he deservessuch confidence, --

"Friend Daniel, you may sail without fear. "

But Daniel had not done yet. 

Pressing his friend's hand heartily, he thanked him, and then witha careless air, under which he very imperfectly concealed his realembarrassment, he said, --

"There remains only to provide the means for carrying out thesemeasures, and for possible contingencies. You are not rich, my dearMaxime, I mean rich in comparison with the people who are your friends;you have told me so more than once. "

He touched a wound which was always open, and always bleeding. 

"Certainly, " replied M. De Brevan, "in comparison with a number of myfriends, with men like Gordon Chalusse, for instance, I am only a poordevil. "

Daniel did not notice the bitterness of this reply. 

"Now, " he said, "suppose, at a given moment, Miss Henrietta's safetyshould make a certain sum of money necessary, --perhaps a very largesum, --are you sure you will always have enough in your drawer, and beable to dispose of it without inconvenience?"

"Ah! you expect too much of me; but I have friends. "

"And you would ask them! you would expose yourself to the humiliation ofhearing those set excuses which serve to conceal refusals! I could neverpermit that. "

"I assure you"--

"Let me tell you that I have forgotten nothing. Although my means aremodest, I can, by selling out some bonds, realize enough to secure youagainst any embarrassment on that score. I also own property in Anjouwhich is valued at fifty or sixty thousand dollars, and I mean to sellit. "

The other man opened his eyes wide. 

"You mean, " he said slowly. 

"To sell it, yes. You heard right. Except, however, my home, my father'shouse, with the little garden in front, the orchard, and the meadowadjoining the house. In that house my father and my mother have livedand died. I find them there, so to _say_, whenever I go in; theirthoughts are still filling the rooms, after so many years. The gardenand the orchard are the first little bits of land my father bought fromhis earnings as ploughboy. He cultivated them in his leisure hours, andthere is literally not a foot of soil which he has not moistened withthe sweat of his brow. They are sacred to me; but the rest--I havealready given orders. "

"And you expect to sell every thing in the three days before yourdeparture?"

"Oh, no! But you are here. "

"What can I do?"

"Take my place, I should think. I will leave you a power-of-attorney. Perhaps, if you make haste, you can get fifty thousand dollars for theproperty. You will invest that so as to be able to use it any moment. And, if ever Miss Henrietta should be compelled to leave her father'shouse, you will hand the money over to her. "

M. De Brevan had turned very pale. 

"Excuse me, " he said, "excuse me. "

"What?"

"Well, it seems to me it would be more suitable to leave some one elsein charge of that. "

"Whom?"

"Oh! I do not know, --a more experienced man! It may be that the propertywill not bring as much as you expect. Or I might invest the money in thewrong funds. Money questions are so delicate!"

But Daniel said, shrugging his shoulders, --

"I do not understand why you should hesitate to undertake so simple athing, when you have already consented to render me so signal and sodifficult a service. "

So simple! M. De Brevan did not look upon it in that light. 

A nervous shiver, which he could hardly conceal, ran down his backbone;drops of perspiration broke out on his temples; and he turned deadlypale. 

"Fifty thousand dollars! That is an enormous sum. "

"Oh, yes!" replied Daniel in the most careless manner. 

And, looking at the clock, he added, --

"Half-past three. Come, Maxime, be quick. My carriage is waiting. Thenotary expects us between three and four o'clock. "

This notary was an exceptional man. He took an interest in the affairsof his clients, and sometimes even listened to hear their explanations. When Daniel had told him what he intended doing, he replied, --

"You have nothing to do, M. Champcey, but to give M. De Brevan apower-of-attorney in proper form. "

"Would it be possible, " asked Daniel, "to have it drawn up at once?"

"Why not? It can be recorded this evening; and to-morrow"--

"Well, then, lose no time. "

The notary called his chief clerk, gave him briefly his instructions, then, making a sign to Daniel, he drew him into a kind of recessresembling an enormous cupboard, adjoining his office, in which he"confessed" his clients, as he called it. When they were there, hesaid, --

"How is it, M. Champcey, do you really owe this M. De Brevan so muchmoney?"

"Not a cent. "

"And you leave your entire fortune thus in his hands! You must havemarvellous confidence in the man. "

"As much as in myself. "

"That is a good deal. And if he should, during your absence, run awaywith the fifty thousand dollars?"

Daniel was a little shaken; but he remained firm. 

"Oh!" he said, "there are still some honest people in the world. "

"Ah?" laughed the notary. 

And, from the manner in which he shook his head, it was clearly seenthat experience had made him very sceptical on that subject. 

"If you would only listen to me, " he resumed, "I could prove to you"--

But Daniel interrupted him, and said, --

"I have no desire, sir, to change my mind; but, even if I should wish todo so, I cannot retract my word. There are particular circumstances inthis case which I cannot explain to you in so short a time. "

The notary raised his eyes to the ceiling, and said in a tone of greatpity, --

"At least, let me make him give you a deed of defeasance. "

"Very well, sir. "

This was done, but in such carefully guarded terms, that even the mostexquisite susceptibility on the part of Maxime could not have beenhurt. It was five o'clock, when the power-of-attorney and the deed weresigned, and the two friends left the worthy notary's office. It wastoo late now for Daniel to write to Henrietta to send him for that sameevening the key to the little garden-gate; but he wrote to get it forthe next evening. 

After that, having dined with M. De Brevan, he went all over Paris insearch of the thousand little things which are necessary for such a longand perilous voyage. He came home late, and was fortunate enough to fallasleep as soon as he had lain down. The next morning he breakfasted inhis rooms, for fear of being out of the house when they should bring himthe key. 

It came towards one o'clock. It was brought by a large girl, nearlythirty years old, with a cross expression of face, and eyes more thanmodestly seeking the ground, and with narrow lips which seemed tobe perpetually engaged in reciting prayers. This was Clarissa, whomHenrietta considered the safest of her waiting-women, and whom she hadtaken into her confidence. 

"Miss Henrietta, " she said to Daniel, "has given me this key and thisletter for you, sir. She expects an answer. "

Daniel tore the envelope, and read, --

"Take care, O my darling friend! to resort to this dangerous expedientwhich we ought to reserve for the last extremity. Is what you have totell me really so important as you say? I can hardly believe it; and yetI send you the key. Tell Clarissa the precise hour at which you will behere. "

Alas! the poor girl had no idea of the terrible news that was in storefor her. 

"Request Miss Henrietta, " said Daniel to the maid, "to expect me atseven o'clock. "

Sure now of seeing Henrietta, Daniel slipped the key in his pocket, andhurried away. He had only a short afternoon to himself, and there werestill a thousand things to get, and countless preparations to make. 

At his notary's, where he went first, he found the papers ready; allthe formalities had been fulfilled. But, at the moment when the deed wasplaced before him, the worthy lawyer said in a prophetic voice, --

"M. Champcey, take care, reflect! I call that tempting a man prettystrongly when you hand over to him fifty thousand dollars the day beforeyou start on a long and dangerous expedition. "

"Ah! What matters my fortune, if I only see my Henrietta again?"

The notary looked discouraged. 

"Ah! if there is a woman in the affair, I have nothing more to say. "

It was as well. The next moment Daniel had forgotten him and his sombrepresentiments. 

Seated in M. De Brevan's little sitting-room, he was handing over hisdeeds and papers to his faithful confidant, explaining to him how hemight make the most of the different parcels of land which he owned; howcertain woods might be sold together; how, on the other hand, a largefarm, now held by one tenant, might be advantageously divided into smalllots, and sold at auction. 

M. De Brevan did not look so pale now. He had recovered his self-possession, and laid aside his usual reserve in order to show himselfall eagerness for his friend. 

He declared that he would see to it that his friend Daniel should notbe robbed. He intended, therefore, to go himself to Anjou to call uponthose who were likely to purchase, and to be present at the sale. In hisopinion, it would be wiser to sell piecemeal, without hurry. If moneywas needed, why, one could always get it at the bank. 

Daniel was deeply touched by the devotion of his friend, whose intenseselfishness he had noticed but too often. Nor was this all. Capable ofthe greatest sacrifices where Daniel's interests were at stake, M. De Brevan had formed a grand resolution. He proposed to overcome hisaversion to Miss Brandon, and to seek, immediately after her marriage, an introduction at Count Ville-Handry's palace, for the purpose ofgoing there constantly. He might have to play a disagreeable part, headmitted; but he would thus be enabled to see Miss Henrietta frequently;he would hear every thing that happened, and be at hand whenever sheshould need advice or assistance. 

"Dear Maxime, " repeated Daniel, "dear, excellent friend, how can I everthank you for all you are doing for me!"

As the day before, they dined together at one of the restaurants on theboulevard; and after dinner M. De Brevan insisted upon accompanyinghis friend back to Count Ville-Handry's house. As they reached it longbefore the appointed hour, they walked up and down on the sidewalk whichruns along the wall of the immense park belonging to the palace. It wasa cold but perfectly clear night. There was not a cloud in the sky, nomist nor haze; and the moon was shining so brightly, that one could haveread by its light. 

In the meantime seven o'clock struck at a neighboring convent. 

"Come, courage, my friend!" said M. De Brevan. 

And, pressing his hand once more cordially, he walked off rapidly in thedirection of the Invalides. 

Daniel had not answered a word. Terribly excited, he had drawn near thesmall door, examining anxiously all the surroundings. The street wasdeserted. But he trembled so violently, that for a moment he thoughthe would never be able to turn the key in the rusty lock. At last hesucceeded in opening it, and he slipped into the garden. 

No one there. He was the first on the spot. 

Looking for some dark place under the tall trees, he hid himself there, and waited. It seemed to him a century. He had counted sixty by thebeating of his pulse ever so many times, and was beginning to be veryanxious, when at last he heard some dry branches crackling under rapidfootsteps. A shadow passed between the trees. He went forward, andHenrietta was standing before him. 

"What is it now, great God!" she said anxiously. "Clarissa said youlooked so pale and undone, that I have been terribly frightened. "

Daniel had come to the conclusion that the plain truth would be lesscruel than the most skilful precautions. 

"I have been ordered on active service, " he replied, "and I must be onboard ship the day after tomorrow. "

And then, without concealing any thing, he told her all he had sufferedsince the day before. Miss Ville-Handry felt as if she had been stunnedby a crushing blow. She was leaning against a tree. Did she even hearDaniel? Yes; for, suddenly rousing herself, she said, --

"You will not obey! It is impossible for you to obey!"

"Henrietta, my honor is at stake. "

"Ah, what does it matter?"

He was about to reply; but she continued in a broken voice, --

"You will certainly not go when you have heard me. You think I amstrong, brave, and capable to breast the storm? You are mistaken. I wasonly drawing upon your energy, Daniel. I am a child, full of daring aslong as it rests on its mother's knee, but helpless as soon as it feelsthat it is left to itself; I am only a woman, Daniel; I am weak. "

The unhappy man felt his strength leaving him; he could no longer bearthe restraint which he had imposed upon himself. 

"You insist upon sending me off in utter despair?" he asked her. "Ah, Ihave hardly courage enough for myself!"

She interrupted him with a nervous laugh, and said in bitter sarcasm, --

"It would be courage to stay, to despise public opinion. "

And, as any thing appeared to her preferable to such a separation, sheadded, --

"Listen! If you will stay, I will yield. Let us go together to myfather, and I will tell him that I have overcome my aversion to MissBrandon. I will ask him to present me to her; _I_ will humble myselfbefore her. "

"That is impossible, Henrietta. "

She bent towards him, joining her hands; and in a suppliant voice sherepeated, --

"Stay, I beseech you, in the name of our happiness! If you have everloved me, if you love me now, stay!"

Daniel had foreseen this heartrending scene; but he had vowed, that, if his heart should break, he would have the fortitude to resistHenrietta's prayers and tears. 

"If I were weak enough to give way now, Henrietta, " he said, "you woulddespise me before the month is over; and I, desperate at having to dragout a life of disgrace, would blow out my brains with a curse on you. "

With her arms hanging listlessly by her side, her hands crossed behindher, Miss Ville-Handry stood there motionless, like a statue. She feltin her heart that Daniel's resolution was not to be shaken. 

Then he said in a gentle voice, --

"I am going, Henrietta; but I leave you a friend of mine, --a true andnoble friend, who will watch over you. You have heard me speak of himoften, --Maxime de Brevan. He knows my wishes. Whatever may happen, consult him. Ah! I should leave more cheerfully if you would promise meto trust this faithful friend, to listen to his advice, and to followhis directions. "

"I promise you, Daniel, I will obey him. "

But a rustling of the dry leaves interrupted them. 

They turned round. A man was cautiously approaching them. 

"My father!" cried Henrietta. 

And, pushing Daniel towards the gate, she begged him to flee. 

To remain would only have been to risk a painful explanation, insults, perhaps even a personal collision. Daniel understood that but too well. 

"Farewell, " he said to Henrietta, "farewell! Tomorrow you will receive aletter from me. "

And he escaped, but not so promptly that he should not have heard thecount's angry voice, as he said, --

"Ah, ah! Is this the virtuous young lady who dares to insult MissSarah?"

As soon as Daniel had locked the door again, he listened for a moment, hoping that he might hear something of importance. But he could onlymake out a few indistinct exclamations, then nothing, nothing more. 

It was all over now. He would have to sail without seeing Henriettaagain, without enjoying that bitter happiness of holding her once morein his arms. And yet he had told her nothing of all he had to tell her;he had not spoken to her of half his recommendations, nor given her athousandth part of his tender farewells. 

How had they been surprised? How came it about that the count had stayedat home, instead of hurrying off immediately after dinner, as was hiscustom? Why should he have inquired after his daughter, he who generallytook no more trouble about her than if she had not existed?

"Ah, we have been betrayed!" thought the unhappy man. 

By whom? By that unpleasant maid evidently, whom he had seen thatmorning; by that very Clarissa in whom Henrietta put such confidence. Ifthat was so, --and it was but too probable, --to whom should he send hisletters hereafter? Here, again, he saw himself reduced to Maxime deBrevan as the only one who could convey news from him to Henrietta. Ah!he recognized but too clearly the execrable but most cunning policy ofMiss Brandon. 

"The wretch!" he swore; "the infamous woman!"

Wrath, mad wrath, set his brains on fire. And he could do nothingagainst that woman!

"But she does not stand alone!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There is a manthere who shelters her under his responsibility, --Sir Thorn!"

M. Elgin might be insulted; he might be struck in the face, and thus becompelled to fight. 

And, without considering this absurd plan, he hurried to Circus Street. Although it was barely eight o'clock, Miss Brandon's house looked as ifeverybody were asleep. He rang the bell, however; and, when a servantcame to the door, he inquired, --

"M. Thomas Elgin?"

"M. Elgin is absent, " replied the servant. 

"At what hour will he be back?"

"He is not coming home to-night. "

And whether he had received special instructions, or was only actingupon general orders, he added, --

"Mrs. Brian is at the theatre; but Miss Brandon is at home. "

Daniel's wrath changed into a kind of cold fury. 

"They expected me, " he thought. 

And he hesitated. Should he see Miss Brandon? But for what end? He wasjust turning away, when a sudden thought occurred to him. Why should henot talk with her, come to an understanding, and perhaps make a bargainwith her?

"Show me to Miss Brandon's room, " he said to the servant. 

She sat, as she always did when left alone in the house, in the littleboudoir, where Daniel had already once been carried by her. Dressed in along dressing-wrapper of pale-blue cashmere, her hair scarcely taken upat all, she was reading, reclining on a sofa. 

As the door opened, she raised herself carelessly a little, and, withoutturning around, asked, --

"Who is that?"

But, when the servant announced the name of M. Champcey, she rose with abound, almost terrified, dropping the book which she had in her hand. 

"You!" she murmured as soon as the servant had left. "Here, and of yourown accord?"

Firmly resolved this time to remain master of his sensations, Daniel hadstopped in the middle of the room, as stiff as a statue. 

"Don't you know, madam, what brings me here? All your combinations havesucceeded admirably; you triumph, and we surrender. "

She looked at him in perfect amazement, stammering--

"I do not understand you. I do not know what you mean. "

He shrugged his shoulders, and continued in an icy tone, --

"Do me the honor to think that I am not altogether a fool. I have seenthe letter which you have sent to the minister, signed with my name. Ihave held that masterpiece of forgery in my hand and know now how youfree yourself of my presence!"

Miss Brandon interrupted him with an angry gesture, --

"Then it is really so! He has done it; he has dared do it!"

"Who is this he? M. Thomas Elgin, no doubt?"

"No, not he; another man. "

"Name him!"

She hesitated, hung her head, and then said with a great effort, --

"I knew they wished to separate us; and, without knowing precisely whatmeans they would employ, I suspected them. And, when I came to you theother day, I wanted to say to you, 'Have a care!' and you, M. Champcey, you drove me from you. "

He looked upon her with such an ironical smile that she broke off, andcried, --

"Ah, he does not believe me! Tell me that you do not believe me!"

He bowed ceremoniously, and replied in his gravest manner, --

"I believe, Miss Brandon, that you desire to become Countess Ville-Handry; and you clear everything out of your path that can hinder you inyour plans. "

She was about to answer; but he did not give her time, and continued, --

"Mark, I pray, that I make no charges. Come, let us play openly. Youare too sensible and too practical to hate us--Miss Henrietta andmyself--from gratuitous and purely platonic motives. You hate us becausewe are in your way. How are we in your way? Tell me; and, if you willpromise to help us, we--Henrietta and I--pledge ourselves not to standin your way. "

Miss Brandon looked as if she could not trust her ears. 

"But, sir, this is a bargain, I should say, which you propose?"

"Yes, indeed! And, that there may be no misunderstanding, I will mentionthe precise terms: if you will swear to be kind to Henrietta during myabsence, to protect her against violence on the part of her father, andnever to force her to act contrary to her sentiments for me, I will giveyou, in return, my word that I shall give up to you, without disputeand without reserve, the whole immense fortune possessed by CountVille-Handry. "

Succumbing to her grief, Miss Brandon seemed to be almost fainting; andbig tears rolled down her cheeks. 

"Have I not yet been humiliated sufficiently?" she said in a low voice. "Must you add shame to shame? Daniel, you think I am very mean. "

And, checking the sobs which impeded her words, she went on, --

"And yet I cannot blame you for it, I cannot. No, you are right! Everything is against me; every thing bears witness against me. Yes, I mustappear a very wicked girl in your eyes. If you knew the truth, however, Daniel--if I could, if I dared, tell you all!"

She drew nearer to him, all trembling; and then continued in a stilllower tone of voice, as if she feared to be overheard, --

"Do you not understand yet that I am no longer my own? Unfortunate asI am, they have taken me, bound me, fettered me. I have no longer theright to have a will of my own. If they say, 'Do this!' I must needs doit. What a life I lead! Great God! Ah, if you had been willing, Daniel!If you were willing even now!"

She became excited almost to exaltation; her eyes, moist with tears, shone with matchless splendor; passing blushes colored her face; and hervoice had strange, weird vibrations. 

Was she forgetting herself? Was she really about to betray her secret?or was she merely inventing a new falsehood? Why should he not let hergo on?

"That is no answer, Miss Brandon, " at last said Daniel. "Will youpromise me to protect Henrietta?"

"Do you really love her so dearly, your Henrietta?"

"Better than life!"

Miss Brandon turned as white as the lace on her dress; a flash ofindignation shot through her eyes; and, drying her tears, she saidcurtly, --

"Oh!"

Then Daniel replied, --

"You will give me no answer, madam?"

And, as she persisted in her silence, he resumed, --

"Very well, then, I understand. You declare open war. Be it so! Onlylisten to me carefully. I am setting out on a dangerous expedition, andyou hope I shall never return. Undeceive yourself, Miss Brandon; I shallreturn. With a passion like mine, with so much love in one's heart, andso much hatred, a man can defy every thing. The murderous climate willnot touch me; and, if I had ten rifle-balls in my body, I should stillhave the strength to return, and hold you to an account for what youhave done to Henrietta. And if you have touched a hair on her head, ifyou have made her shed a single tear, by all that is holy, it will bringill luck to you, and ill luck to others!"

He was going to leave her, when a thought struck him. 

"I ought to tell you, moreover, " he added, "that I leave a faithfulfriend behind me; and, if the count or his daughter should die verysuddenly, the coroner will be informed. And now, madam, farewell--or, rather, till we meet again!"

At eight o'clock on the evening of the next day, after having left inM. De Brevan's hands a long letter for Henrietta, and after having givenhim his last instructions, Daniel took his seat in the train which wasto take him to his new post. 

XIII. 

It was a week after Daniel's departure, a Wednesday, and about half-past eleven o'clock. 

Some thirty carriages, the most elegant, by all means, that Paris couldboast of, were standing alongside of the Church of St. Clothilda. In thepretty little square before the building, some hundred and fifty or twohundred idlers were waiting with open mouths. The passers-by, noticingthe crowd, went up and asked, --

"What is going on?"

"A wedding, " was the answer. 

"And a grand wedding, apparently. "

"Why, the grandest thing you ever saw. It is a nobleman, and animmensely rich one, who is going to be married, --Count Ville-Handry. He marries an American lady. They have been in the church now for sometime, and they will soon come out again. "

Under the porch a dozen men, in the orthodox black costume, with yellowkid gloves, and white cravats showing under their overcoats, evidentlymen belonging to the wedding-party, were chatting merrily while theywere waiting for the end of the ceremony. If they were amused, theyhardly showed it; for some made an effort to hide their yawning, whileothers kept up a broken conversation, when a small _coupe_ drove up, andstopped at the gate. 

"Gentlemen, " said a young man, "I announce M. De Brevan. "

It was he really. 

He stepped leisurely out of his carriage, and came up in his usualphlegmatic manner. He knew the majority, perhaps, of the young men inthe crowd; and so he commenced at once shaking hands all around, andthen said in an easy tone of voice, --

"Who has seen the bride?"

"I!" replied an old beau, whose perpetual smile displayed all thethirty-two teeth he owed to the dentist. 

"Well, what do you think of her?"

"She is always sublime in her beauty, my dear. When she walked up theaisle to kneel down at the altar, a murmur of admiration followed herall the way. Upon my word of honor, I thought they would applaud. "

This was too much enthusiasm. M. De Brevan cut it short, asking, --

"And Count Ville-Handry?"

"Upon my word, " replied the old beau ironically, "the good count canboast of a valet who knows almost as much as Rachel, the famous Englishenameller. At a little distance you would have sworn that he wassixteen years old, and that he was going, not to be married, but to beconfirmed. "

"And how did he look?"

"Restless, I think. "

"He might well be, " observed a stout, elderly gentleman, who was saidnot to be very happily married. 

Everybody laughed; but a very young man, a mere youth, who did not catchthe joke, said, --

"Why so?"

A man of about thirty years, a perfect model of elegance, whom theothers called, according to the degree of intimacy which they couldclaim, either "Your Grace, " or "Duke" simply replied, --

"Because, my dear viscount, Miss Brandon is one of those ladies whonever are married. They are courted; they are worshipped; they makeus commit a thousand follies for their sakes; they allow us to ruinourselves, and, finally, to blow our brains out for them, all right! Butto bear our name, never!"

"It is true, " said Brevan, "that they tell a number of stories abouther; but it is all gossip. However"--

"You certainly would not ask, " replied the duke, "that I should proveher to have been brought before a police-court, or to have escaped fromthe penitentiary?"

And, without permitting himself to be interrupted, he went on, --

"Good society in France, they say, is very exclusive. It does notdeserve that reputation. Except, perhaps, a score of houses, where oldtraditions are still preserved, all other houses are wide open to thefirst-comer, man or woman, who drives up in a carriage. And the numberof such first-comers is prodigiously large. Where do they come from? Noone knows. From Russia, from Turkey, from America, from Hungary, fromvery far, from everywhere, from below, I do not count the impudentfellows who are still muddy from the gutter in which they have beenlying. How do all these people live? That is a mystery. But they dolive, and they live well. They have, or at least seem to have, money;and they shine, they intrigue, they conspire, they make believe, andthey extort. So that I verily believe all this high-life society, bydint of helping one another, of pushing and crowding in, will, in theend, be master of all. You may say that I am not in the crowd. Verytrue. I willingly shake hands with the workmen who work for me, andwho earn their living worthily; but I do not shake hands with theseambiguous personages in yellow kids, who have no title but theirimpudence, and no means of living but their underhand intrigues. "

He addressed himself apparently to no one, following, with his absent-minded glance, the crowd in the garden; and yet, by his peculiarmanner, you would have known that he was speaking at some one among thelisteners. 

However, it was evident that he had no success, and that his doctrineseemed to be utterly out of season, and almost ridiculous. A young manwith a delicate black mustache, and extremely well dressed, even turnedto his neighbor, and asked, --

"Who is our friend, the preacher?"

"What! don't you know him?" replied the other. 

"That is the Duke of Champdoce, you know, who has married a princess ofMussidan. Quite an original. "

M. De Brevan, however, had remained perfectly impassive, and now said, --

"At all events, I suppose it was not altogether a question of interestwhich made Miss Brandon marry the count. "

"Why not?"

"Because she is immensely rich. "

"Pshaw!"

An old gentleman came up, and said, --

"She must needs be perfectly disinterested; for I have it from the counthimself that none of the property is to be settled upon Miss Brandon. "

"That certainly is marvellously disinterested. "

Having said what he meant to say, the duke had entered the church; andthe old beau now took the word. 

"The only thing that is clear to me in this matter is, that I think Iknow the person whom this wedding will not please particularly. "

"Whom do you mean?"

"Count Ville-Handry's daughter, a young girl, eighteen years old, andwondrously pretty. Just imagine! Besides, I have looked for her all overthe church, and she is not there. "

"She is not present at the wedding, " replied the old gentleman, thefriend of Count Ville-Handry, "because she was suddenly taken ill. "

"So they say, " interposed the young man; "but the fact is, that a friendof mine has just seen her driving out in her carriage in full dress. "

"That can hardly be so. "

"My friend was positive. She intended this pretty piece of scandal as awedding-present for her stepmother. "

M. De Brevan shrugged his shoulders, and said in an undertone, --

"Upon my word, I should not like to stand in the count's shoes. "

As a faithful echo of the gossip that was going on in society, thisconversation, carried on in broken sentences, under the porch of St. Clothilda, made it quite clear that public opinion was decidedly infavor of Miss Brandon. It would have been surprising if it should havebeen otherwise. She triumphed; and the world is always on the side ofthe victor. That Duke of Champdoce, an original, was the only one therewho was disposed to remember the past; the others had forgotten it. Thebrilliancy of her success was even reflected on those who belonged toher; and a young man who copied to exaggeration English fashions wasjust singing the praises of M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian, when a greatcommotion was noticed under the porch. 

People came out, and said, --

"It is all over. The wedding-guests are in the vestry now to sign theirnames. "

The conversation stopped at once. The old beau alone exclaimed, --

"Gentlemen, if we wish to present our respects to the newly-marriedcouple, we must make haste. "

And with these words he hurried into the church, followed by all theothers, and soon reached the vestry, which was too small to hold allthe guests invited by Count Ville-Handry. The parish register had beenplaced upon a small table; and every one approached, as his turn came, taking off his gloves before seizing the pen. Fronting the door, andleaning against one of the cupboards in which the holy vessels are kept, stood Miss Brandon, now Countess Ville-Handry, having at her side grimMrs. Brian, and tall, stiff M. Elgin. 

Her admirers had exaggerated nothing. In her white bridal costume shelooked amazingly beautiful; and her whole person exhaled a perfume ofinnocence and ingenuous purity. 

She was surrounded by eight or ten young persons, who overwhelmedher with congratulations and compliments. She replied with a slightlytremulous voice, and casting down her eyes with the long, silkyeyelashes. Count Ville-Handry stood in the centre of the room, swellingwith almost comic happiness; and at every moment, in replying to hisfriends, used the words, "My wife, " like a sweet morsel which he rolledon his tongue. 

Still a careful observer might have noticed underneath his victoriousairs a trace of almost painful restraint. From time to time hisface darkened as one of those unlucky, awkward people, who turn upeverywhere, asked him, --

"I hope Miss Henrietta is not complaining much? How very sorry she mustbe to be detained at home!"

It is true, that, among these unlucky ones, there were not a fewmalicious ones. Nobody was ignorant that something unpleasant hadhappened in the count's family. They had suspected something from thebeginning of the ceremony. 

For the count had hardly knelt down by Miss Brandon's side, on a velvetcushion, when a servant wearing his livery had come up, and whispereda few words in his ear. The guests who were nearest had seen him turnpale, and utter an expression of furious rage. 

What had the servant told him?

It became soon known, thanks to the Countess Bois, who went abouttelling everybody with inexhaustible volubility, that she had just metMiss Ville-Handry in the street. 

When the last name had been signed, nobody was, therefore, surprisedat seeing Count Ville-Handry give his arm to his wife, and hand herhurriedly to her carriage, --a magnificent state-carriage. He hadinvited some twenty people, former friends of his, to a great wedding-breakfast; but he seemed to have forgotten them. And once in hiscarriage, alone with Mrs. Brian, M. Elgin, and the young countess, hebroke forth in incoherent imprecations and absurd threatenings. 

When they reached the palace, he did not wait for the coachman to driveas usually around the yard, but jumped out, and, rushing up to thevestibule, cried out, --

"Ernest! send Ernest here!"

Ernest was his own valet, the clever artist to whom he was indebted forthe roses of his complexion. As soon as he appeared, he asked, --

"Where is the young lady?"

"Gone out. "

"When?"

"Immediately after you, sir. "

The young countess, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin, had, in the meantime, comeup, and gone into the room in the lower story, where this scene tookplace. 

"Do you hear that?" he asked them. 

Then, turning again to the valet, he asked, --

"How did it happen?"

"Very naturally. The gates had not been closed behind your carriage, sir, when the young lady rang the bell. They went up to see what shewanted, and she ordered the landau to be brought round. She was toldvery respectfully, that all three coachmen were out, and that there wasno one there to drive her. 'If that be so, ' she answered, 'I want you torun and get me a hired carriage. ' And, when the servant to whom she gavethe order hesitated, she added, 'If you do not go instantly, I shall gomyself. '"

The count trembled with rage. 

"And then?" he asked, seeing that the man was hesitating. 

"Then the servant was frightened, and did what she wanted. "

"He is dismissed, the fool!" exclaimed Count Ville-Handry. 

"But allow me to _say_, " commenced Ernest. 

"No! Let his wages be paid. And you go on. "

Without showing any embarrassment, the valet shrugged his shoulders, andcontinued in a lazy tone, --

"Then the hack came into the court-yard; and we saw the young ladycome down in a splendid toilet, such as we have never seen her wearbefore, --not pretty exactly, but so conspicuous, that it must haveattracted everybody's attention. She settled herself coolly on thecushions, while we looked at her, utterly amazed; and, when she wasready, she said, 'Ernest, you will tell my father that I shall notbe back for breakfast. I have a good many visits to make; and, asthe weather is fine, I shall afterwards go to the Bois de Boulogne. 'Thereupon the gates were opened, and off they went. It was then that Itook the liberty to send you word, sir. "

In all his life Count Ville-Handry had not been so furious. The veinsin his neck began to swell; and his eyes became bloodshot, as if he hadbeen threatened with a fit of apoplexy. 

"You ought to have kept her from going out, " he said hoarsely. "Why didyou not prevent her? You ought to have made her go back to her room, useforce if necessary, lock her up, bind her. "

"You had given no orders, sir. "

"You ought to have required no orders to do your duty. To let a madwoman run about! an impudent girl whom I caught the other day in thegarden with a man!"

He cried out so loud, that his voice was heard in the adjoining room, where the invited guests were beginning to assemble. The unhappy man! Hedisgraced his own child. The young countess at once came up to him andsaid, --

"I beseech you, my dear friend, be calm!"

"No, this must end; and I mean to punish the wicked girl. "

"I beseech you, my dear count, do not destroy the happiness of the firstday of our married life. Henrietta is only a child; she did not knowwhat she was doing. "

Mrs. Brian was not of the same opinion. She declared, --

"The count is right. The conduct of this young lady is perfectlyshocking. "

Then Sir Thorn interrupted her, saying, --

"Ah, ah! Brian, where is our bargain? Was it not understood that wewould have nothing to do with the count's private affairs?"

Thus every one took up at once his assigned part. The countess advocatedforbearance; Mrs. Brian advised discipline; and Sir Thorn was in favorof silent impartiality. 

Besides, they easily succeeded in calming the count. But, after such ascene, the wedding breakfast could not be very merry. The guests, whohad heard nearly all, exchanged strange looks with each other. 

"The count's daughter, " they thought, "and a lover? That can hardly be!"

In vain did the count try to look indifferent; in vain did the youngcountess display all her rare gifts. Everybody was embarrassed; nobodycould summon up a smile; and every five minutes the conversation gaveout. At half-past four o'clock, the last guest had escaped, and thecount remained alone with his new family. It was growing dark, and theywere bringing in the lamps, when the rolling of carriage-wheels washeard on the sand in the court-yard. The count rose, turning pale. 

"Here she comes!" he said. "Here is my daughter!"

It was Henrietta. 

How could a young girl, usually so reserved, and naturally so timid, make up her mind to cause such scandal? Because the most timid peopleare precisely the boldest on certain occasions. Forced to abandontheir nature, they do not reason, and do not calculate, and, losing allself-possession, rush blindly into danger, impelled by a kind of madnessresembling that of sheep when they knock their heads against the wallsof their stable. 

Now, for nearly a fortnight, the count's daughter had been upset byso many and so violent emotions, that she was no longer herself. Theinsults which her father heaped upon her when he surprised her withDaniel had unsettled her mind completely. 

For Count Ville-Handry, acting under a kind of overexcitement, had thatday lost all self-control, and forgot himself so far as to treat hisdaughter as no gentleman would have treated his child while in hissenses, and that in the presence of his servants!

And then, what tortures she had had to endure in the week that followed!She had declared that she would not be present at the reading of themarriage-contract, nor at the ceremonies of the civil marriage, norat church; and her father had tried to make her change her intentions. Hence every day a new lamentable scene, as the decisive moment drewnearer. 

If the count had at least used a little discretion, if he had triedthe powers of persuasion, or sought to touch his daughter's heart byspeaking to her of herself, of her future, of her happiness, of herpeace!

But no! He never came to her room without a new insult, thinking ofnothing, as he acknowledged himself, but of sparing Miss Brandon'sfeelings, and of saving her all annoyance. The consequence was, that histhreats, so far from moving Henrietta, had only served to strengthen herin her determination. 

The marriage-contract had been read and signed at six o'clock, justbefore a grand dinner. At half-past five, the count had once more cometo his daughter's room. Without telling her any thing of it, he hadordered her dressmaker to send her several magnificent dresses; and theywere lying about now, spread out upon chairs. 

"Dress yourself, " he said in a tone of command, "and come down!"

She, the victim of that kind of nervous exaltation which makes martyrdomappear preferable to yielding, replied obstinately, --

"No, I shall not come down. "

She did not care for any subterfuge or excuse; she did not even pretendto be unwell; she said resolutely--

"I will not!"

And he, finding himself unable to overcome this resistance, maddened andenraged, broke out in blasphemies and insane threats. 

A chambermaid, who had been attracted by the loud voice, had come, and, putting her ear to the keyhole, had heard every thing; and the sameevening she told her friends how the count had struck his daughter, andthat she had heard the blows. 

Henrietta had always denied the charge. 

Nevertheless, it was but too true, that, in consequence of these lastinsults, she had come to the determination to make her protest aspublic as she could by showing herself to all Paris while her father wasmarried at St. Clothilda to Miss Brandon. The poor girl had no oneto whom she could confide her griefs, no one to tell her that all thedisgrace would fall back upon herself. 

So she had carried out her plan bravely. Putting on a very showycostume, so as to attract as much attention as possible, she had spentthe day in driving about to all the places where she thought she wouldmeet most of her acquaintances. Night alone had compelled her to return, and she felt broken to pieces, exhausted, upset by unspeakable anguishof soul, but upheld by the absurd idea that she had done her duty andshown herself worthy of Daniel. 

She had just alighted, and was about to pay the coachman, when thecount's valet came up, and said to her in an almost disrespectful toneof voice, --

"My master has ordered me to tell you to come to him as soon as youshould come home. "

"Where is my father?"

"In the large reception-room. "

"Alone?"

"No. The countess, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin are with him. "

"Very well. I am coming. "

Gathering all her courage, and looking whiter and colder than the marbleof the statues in the vestibule, she went to the reception-room, openedthe door, and entered stiffly. 

"Here you are!" exclaimed Count Ville-Handry, restored to a certaindegree of calmness by the very excess of his wrath, --"here you are!"

"Yes, father. "

"Where have you been?"

She had at a glance taken in the whole room; and at the sight of the newcountess, and those whom she called her accomplices, all her resentmentarose. She smiled haughtily, and said carelessly, --

"I have been at the Bois de Boulogne. In the morning I went out to makesome purchases; later, knowing that the Duchess of Champdoce is a littleunwell, and does not go out, I went to lunch with her; after that, asthe weather was so fine"--

Count Ville-Handry could endure it no longer. 

Seizing his daughter by the wrists, he lifted her bodily, and, draggingher up to the Countess Sarah, he hurled out, --

"On your knees, unhappy child! on your knees, and ask the best andnoblest of women to pardon you for all these insults!"

"You hurt me terribly, father, " said the young girl coldly. 

But the countess had already thrown herself between them. 

"For Heaven's sake, madam, " she said, "spare your father!"

And, as Henrietta measured her from head to foot with an insultingglance, she went on, --

"Dear count, don't you see that your violence is killing me?"

Promptly Count Ville-Handry let his daughter go, and, drawing back, hesaid, --

"Thank her, thank this angel of goodness who intercedes in your behalf!But have a care! my patience is at an end. There are such things ashouses of correction for rebellious children and perverse daughters. "

She interrupted him by a gesture, and exclaimed with startling energy, --

"Be it so, father! Choose among all these houses the very strictest, andsend me there. Whatever I may have to suffer there, it will bebetter than being here, as long as I see in the place of my motherthat--woman!"

"Wretch!" howled the count. 

He was suffocating. By a violent effort he tore off his cravat; and, conscious that he was no longer master of himself, he cried to hisdaughter, --

"Leave me, leave me! or I answer for nothing. " She hesitated a moment. 

Then, casting upon the countess one more look full of defiance, sheslowly went out of the room. 

XIV. 

"Well, I am sure the count can boast that he has had a curiouswedding-day. "

This was the way the servants spoke at the moment when Henrietta leftthe reception-room. She heard it; and without knowing whether theyapproved her conduct, or laughed at it, she felt gratified, so eager ispassion for encouragement from anywhere. 

But she had not yet gone half-way up the stairs which led to her ownrooms, when she was held at the place by the sound of all the bells ofthe house, which had been set in motion by a furious hand. She bent overthe balusters to listen. The servants were rushing about; the vestibuleresounded with hurried steps; and she distinguished the imperious voiceof M. Ernest, the count's valet, who called out, --

"Salts, quick! Fresh water. The countess has a nervous attack. "

A bitter smile curled Henrietta's lips. 

"At least, " she said to herself, "I shall have poisoned this woman'sjoy. " And, fearing to be caught thus listening, she went up stairs. 

But, when she was alone once more, the poor girl failed not to recognizethe utter futility of her fancied triumph. Whom had she wounded, afterall? Her father. 

However unwell the countess might be to-night, --and perhaps she was notreally unwell, --she would certainly be well again in the morning; andthen what would be the advantage of the scandal she had attempted inorder to ruin her? Now Henrietta saw it very clearly, --now, when it wastoo late. 

Worse than that! She fancied that what she had done to-day pledgedher for the future. The road upon which she had started evidently lednowhere. Never mind, it seemed to her miserable cowardice to shrink fromgoing on. 

Rising with the sun, she was deliberating on what weak point she mightmake her next attack, when there came a knock at the door, and Clarissa, her own maid, entered. 

"Here is a letter for you, miss, " she said. "I have received it thismoment, in an envelope addressed to me. "

Henrietta examined the letter for a long time before opening it, studying the handwriting, which she did not know. Who could write toher, and in this way, unless it was Maxime de Brevan, to whom Danielhad begged her to intrust herself, and who, so far, had given no sign oflife of himself?

It was M. De Brevan who wrote thus, --

"Madam, --Like all Paris, I also have heard of your proud and nobleprotest on the day of your father's unfortunate marriage. Egotists andfools will perhaps blame you. But you may despise them; for all the bestmen are on your side. And my dear Daniel, if he were here, would approveand admire your courage, as I do myself. "

She drew a full breath, as if her heart had been relieved of a heavyburden. 

Daniel's friend approved her conduct. This was enough to stiflehenceforth the voice of reason, and to make her disregard every idea ofprudence. The whole letter of M. De Brevan was, moreover, nothing but along and respectful admonition to resist desperately. 

Farther on he wrote, --

"At the moment of taking the train, Daniel handed me a letter, in whichhe expresses his innermost thoughts. With a sagacity worthy of such aheart, he foresees and solves in advance all the difficulties by whichyour step-mother will no doubt embarrass you hereafter. This letter istoo precious to be intrusted to the mail, I shall, therefore, get myselfintroduced at your father's house before the end of the week, and Ishall have the honor to put that letter into your own hands. "

And again, --

"I shall have an opportunity, tomorrow, to send Daniel news from here. If you wish to write to him, send me your letter to-day, Rue Laffitte, No. 62, and I will enclose it in mine. "

Finally, there came a postscript in these words, --

"Mistrust, above all, M. Thomas Elgin. "

This last recommendation caused Henrietta particular trouble, and madeher feel all kinds of vague and terrible apprehensions. 

"Why should I mistrust him, " she said to herself, "more than theothers?"

But a more pleasing anxiety soon came to her assistance. What? Herewas an opportunity to send Daniel news promptly and safely, and she wasrunning the risk, by her delays, of losing the chance? She hastened todress; and, sitting down before her little writing-table, she went towork communicating to her only friend on earth all her sufferings sincehe had so suddenly left her, her griefs, her resentments, her hopes. 

It was eleven o'clock when she had finished, having filled eight largepages with all she felt in her heart. As she was about to rise, shesuddenly felt ill. Her knees gave way under her, and she felt as ifevery thing was trembling around her. What could this mean? she thought. And now only she remembered that she had eaten nothing since the daybefore. 

"I must not starve myself, " she said almost merrily to herself. Her longchat with Daniel had evidently rekindled her hopes. 

She rang the bell; and, when her maid appeared, she said, --

"Bring me some breakfast!"

Miss Ville-Handry occupied three rooms. The first, her sitting-room, opened upon the hall; on the right was her bed-chamber; and on the lefta boudoir with her piano, her music, and her books. When Henrietta tookher meals up stairs, which of late had happened quite often, she ate inthe sitting-room. 

She had gone in there, and was clearing the table of the albums andlittle trifles which were lying about, so as to hasten matters, when themaid reappeared with empty hands. 

"Ah, miss!"

"Well?"

"The count has given orders not to take any thing up stairs. "

"That cannot be. "

But a mocking voice from without interrupted her, saying, --

"It is so!"

And immediately Count Ville-Handry appeared, already dressed, curled, and painted, bearing the appearance of a man who is about to enjoy hisrevenge. 

"Leave us!" he said to the maid-servant. 

And, as soon as Clarissa had left the room, he turned to Henrietta withthese words, --

"Yes, indeed, my dear Henrietta, I have given strict orders not to bringyou up any thing to eat. Why should you indulge such fancies? I ask you. Are you unwell? If you are, we will send for the doctor. If not, youwill do me the favor to come down and take your meals in the dining-roomwith the family, --with the countess and myself, M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. "

"But, father!"

"There is no father who could stand this. The time of weakness ispast, and so is the time of passion; therefore, you will come down. Oh!whenever you feel disposed. You will, perhaps, pout a day, maybe twodays; but hunger drives the wolf into the village; and on the third daywe shall see you come down as soon as the bell rings. I have in vainappealed to your heart; you see I am forced to appeal to your stomach. "

Whatever efforts Henrietta might make to remain impassive, the tearswould come into her eyes, --tears of shame and humiliation. Could thisidea of starving her into obedience have originated with her father? No, he would never have thought of it! It was evidently a woman's thought, and the result of bitter, savage hate. 

Still the poor girl felt that she was caught; and her heart revolted atthe ignominy of the means, and the certainty that she would be forcedto yield. Her cruel imagination painted to her at once the exultation ofthe new countess, when she, the daughter of Count Ville-Handry, wouldappear in the dining-room, brought there by want, by hunger. 

"Father, " she begged, "send me nothing but bread and water, but spare methat exposure. "

But, if the count was repeating a lesson, he had learned it well. Hisfeatures retained their sardonic expression; and he said in an icytone, --

"I have told you what I desire. You have heard it, and that is enough. "

He was turning to leave the room, when his daughter held him back. 

"Father, " she said, "listen to me. "

"Well, what is it, now?"

"Yesterday you threatened to shut me up. "

"Well?"

"To-day it is I who beseech you to do so. Send me to a convent. Howeverharsh and strict the rules may be, however sad life may be there, I willfind there some relief for my sorrow, and I will bless you with all myheart. "

He only shrugged his shoulders over and over again; then he said, --

"A good idea! And from your convent you would at once write to everybodyand everywhere, that my wife had turned you out of the house; that youhad been obliged to escape from threats and bad treatment; you wouldrepeat all the well-known elegies of the innocent young girl who ispersecuted by a wicked stepmother. Not so, my dear, not so!"

The breakfast-bell, which was ringing below, interrupted him. 

"You hear, Henrietta, " he said. "Consult your stomach; and, according towhat it tells you, come down, or stay here. "

He went out, manifestly quite proud at having performed what he calledan act of paternal authority, without vouchsafing a glance at hisdaughter, who had sunk back upon a chair; for she felt overcome, thepoor child! by all the agony of her pride. It was all over: she couldstruggle no longer. People who would not shrink from such extrememeasures in order to overcome her might resort to the last extremities. Whatever she could do, sooner or later she would have to succumb. 

Hence--why might she not as well give way at once? She saw clearly, that, the longer she postponed it, the sweeter would be the victory tothe countess, and the more painful would be the sacrifice to herself. Arming herself, therefore, with all her energy, she went down into thedining-room, where the others were already at table. 

She had imagined that her appearance would be greeted by some insultingremark. Not at all. They seemed hardly to notice her. The countess, whohad been talking, paused to say, "Good-morning, madam!" and then went onwithout betraying in her voice the slightest emotion. 

Henrietta had even to acknowledge that they had been considerate. Herplate had not been put by her mother-in-law. A seat had been kept forher between Mrs. Brian and M. Elgin. She sat down, and, while eating, watched stealthily, and with all her powers of observation, thesestrangers who were henceforth the masters of her destiny, and whom shenow saw for the first time; for yesterday she had hardly perceived them. 

She was at once struck, painfully struck, with the dazzling, marvellousbeauty of Countess Sarah, although she had been shown her photograph byher father, and ought thus to have been prepared. It was evident thatthe young countess had barely taken time to put on a wrapper beforecoming down to breakfast. Her complexion was more animated than usually. She exhibited all the touching confusion of a young bride, and wasconstantly more or less embarrassed. 

Henrietta comprehended but too well the influence such a woman waslikely to have over an old man who had fallen in love with her. It madeher tremble. But grim Mrs. Brian appeared to her hardly less formidable. She could read nothing in her dull, heavy eye but cold wickedness;nothing in her lean, yellow face but an implacable will; all thewrinkles seemed to be permanently graven in wax. 

She thought, after all, the least to be feared was tall, stiff M. Thomas Elgin. Seated by her, he had shown her discreetly some littleattentions; and, when she observed him more closely, she discovered inhis eyes something like commiseration. 

"And yet, " she thought, "it was against him that M. De Brevan warned meparticularly. "

But breakfast was over. Henrietta rose, and having bowed, without sayinga word, was going back to her room when she met on the stairs someof the servants, who were carrying a heavy wardrobe. Upon inquiry shelearned that, as Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian were hereafter to live in thepalace, they were bringing up their furniture. 

She shook her head sadly; but in her rooms a greater surprise wasawaiting her. Three servants were hard at work taking down herfurniture, under the direction of M. Ernest, the count's valet. 

"What are you doing there?" she asked, and "Who has permitted you?"

"We are only obeying the orders of the count, your father, " replied M. Ernest. "We are getting your rooms ready for Madam Brian. "

And, turning round to his colleagues, he said, --

"Go on, men! Take out that sofa; now!"

Overcome with surprise, Henrietta remained petrified where she was, looking at the servants as they went on with their work. What? Theseeager adventurers had taken possession of the palace, they invaded it, they reigned here absolutely, and that was not enough for them! Theymeant to take from her even the rooms she had occupied, she, thedaughter of their dupe, the only heiress of Count Ville-Handry! Thisimpudence seemed to her so monstrous, that unable to believe it, andyielding to a sudden impulse, she went back to the dining-room, and, addressing her father, said to him, --

"Is it really true, father, that you have ordered my furniture to beremoved?"

"Yes, I have done so, my daughter. My architect will transform yourthree rooms into a large reception-room for Mrs. Brian, who had notspace enough for"--

The young countess made a gesture of displeasure. 

"I cannot understand, " she said, "how Aunt Brian can accept that. "

"I beg your pardon, " exclaimed the admirable lady, "this is doneentirely without my consent. "

But the count interposed, saying, --

"Sarah, my darling, permit me to be sole judge in all the arrangementsthat concern my daughter. "

Count Ville-Handry's accent was so firm as he said this, that one wouldhave sworn the idea of dislodging Henrietta had sprung from his ownbrains. He went on, --

"I never act thoughtlessly, and always take time to mature my decisions. In this case I act from motives of the most ordinary propriety. Mrs. Brian is no longer young; my daughter is a mere child. If one of thetwo has to submit to some slight inconvenience, it is certainly mydaughter. "

All of a sudden M. Elgin rose. 

"I should leave, " he began. 

Unfortunately the rest of the phrase was lost in an indistinct murmur. 

He was no doubt at that moment recalling a promise he had made. Andresolved not to interfere in the count's family affairs, and, on theother hand, indignant at what he considered an odious abuse of power, he left the room abruptly. His looks, his physiognomy, his gestures, allbetrayed these sentiments so clearly, that Henrietta was quite touched. 

But Count Ville-Handry continued, after a moment's surprise, saying, --

"Therefore, my daughter will hereafter live in the rooms formerlyoccupied by the companion of my--I mean of her mother. They are small, but more than sufficient for her. Besides, they have this advantage, that they can be easily overlooked from one of our own rooms, my dearSarah; and that is important when we have to deal with an imprudentgirl, who has so sadly abused the liberty which she enjoyed, thanks tomy blind confidence. "

What should she say? What could she reply?

If she had been alone with her father, she would certainly have defendedherself; she would have tried to make him reconsider his decision; shewould have besought him; she might have gone on her knees to him. 

But here, in the presence of these two women, with the mocking eye ofCountess Sarah upon her, it was impossible! Ah! she would have died athousand times over rather than to give these miserable adventurers thejoy and the satisfaction of a new humiliation. 

"Let them crush me, " she said to herself; "they shall never hear mecomplain, or cry for mercy. "

And when her father, who had been quietly watching her, asked, --

"Well?"

"You shall be obeyed this very night, " she replied. 

And by a kind of miracle of energy, she went out of the room calmly, herhead on high; without having shed a tear. 

But God knew what she suffered. 

To give up those little rooms in which she had spent so many happyhours, where every thing recalled to her sweet memories, certainly thatwas no small grief: it was nothing however, in comparison with thatfrightful perspective of having to live under the wary eye of CountessSarah, under lock and key. 

They would not even leave her at liberty to weep. Her intolerablesufferings would not extort a sigh from her that the countess did nothear on the other side of the partition, and delight in. 

She was thus harassing herself, when she suddenly remembered the letterwhich she had written to Daniel. If M. De Brevan was to have it thatsame day, there was not a moment to lose. Already it was too late forthe mail; and she would have to send it by a commissionaire. 

She rang the bell, therefore, for Clarissa, her confidante, for thepurpose of sending it to the Rue Laffitte. But, instead of Clarissa, oneof the housemaids appeared, and said, --

"Your own maid is not in the house. Mrs. Brian has sent her to CircusStreet. If I can do any thing for you"--

"No, I thank you!" replied Henrietta. 

It seemed, then, that she counted for nothing any more in the house. She was not allowed to eat in her rooms; she was turned out of her ownrooms; and the maid, long attached to her service, was taken from her. And here she was forced to submit to such humiliations without a chanceof rebelling. 

But time was passing; and every minute made it more difficult to let M. De Brevan have her letter in time for the mail. 

"Well, " said Henrietta to herself, "I will carry it myself. "

And although she had, perhaps, in all her life not been more than twicealone in the street, she put on her bonnet, wrapped herself up in acloak, and went down swiftly. 

The concierge, a large man, very proud of his richly laced livery, was sitting before the little pavilion in which he lived, smoking, andreading his paper. 

"Open the gates!" said Henrietta. 

But the man, without taking his pipe out of his mouth, without evengetting up from his seat, answered in a surly tone, --

"The count has sent me orders never to let you go out without a verbalor written permission; so that"--

"Impudence!" exclaimed Henrietta. 

And resolutely she went up to the ponderous gates of the court-yard, stretching out her hand to pull the bolt. But the man, divining herintention, and quicker than she, had rushed up to the gate, and, cryingout as loud as he could, he exclaimed, --

"Miss, miss! Stop! I have my orders, and I shall lose my place. "

At his cries a dozen servants who were standing idly about in thestables, the vestibule, and the inner court, came running up. Then SirThorn appeared, ready to go out on horseback, and finally the counthimself. 

"What do you want? What are you doing there?" he asked his daughter. 

"You see, I want to go out. "

"Alone?" laughed the count. Then he continued harshly, pointing at theconcierge, --

"This man would be instantly dismissed if he allowed you to leave thehouse alone. Oh, you need not look at me that way! Hereafter you willonly go out when, and with whom, it pleases me. And do not hope toescape my watchful observation. I have foreseen every thing. The littlegate to which you had a key has been nailed up. And, if ever a manshould dare to steal into the garden, the gardeners have orders to shoothim down like a dog, whether it be the man with whom I caught you theother day, or some one else. "

Under this mean and cowardly insult Henrietta staggered; but, immediately collecting herself, she exclaimed, --

"Great God! Am I delirious? Father, are you aware of what you aresaying?"

And, as the suppressed laughter of the servants reached her, she addedwith--almost convulsive vehemence, --

"At least, say who the man was with whom I was in the garden, sothat all, all may hear his name. Tell them that it was M. DanielChampcey, --he whom my sainted mother had chosen for me among all, --hewhom for long years you have daily received at your house, to whom youhave solemnly promised my hand, who was my betrothed, and who would nowbe my husband, if we had chosen to approve of your unfortunate marriage. Tell them that it was M. Daniel Champcey, whom you had sent off the daybefore, and whom a crime, a forgery committed by your Sarah, forced togo to sea; for he had to be put out of the way at any _hazard_. Aslong as he was in Paris, you would never have dared treat me as I amtreated. "

Overcome by this unexpected violence, the count could only stammer outa few incoherent words. Henrietta was about to go on, when she feltherself taken by the arm, and gently but irresistibly taken up to thehouse. It was Sir Thorn, who tried to save her from her own excitement. She looked at him; a big tear was slowly rolling down the cheek of theimpassive gentleman. 

Then, when he had led her as far as the staircase, and she had laid holdof the balusters, he said, --

"Poor girl!"

And went away with rapid steps. 

Yes, "poor girl" indeed!

Her resolve was giving way under all these terrible blows; and seizedwith a kind of vertigo, out of breath, and almost beside herself, shehad rushed up the steps, feeling as if she still heard the abominableaccusations of her father, and the laughter of the servants. 

"O God, " she sobbed, "have pity on me!"

She felt in her heart that she had no hope left now but God, deliveredup as she was to pitiless adversaries, sacrificed to the implacablehatred of a stepmother, abandoned by all, and betrayed and openlyrenounced by her own father. 

Hour by hour she had seen how, by an incomprehensible combination offatal circumstances, the infernal circle narrowed down, within which shewas wretchedly struggling, and which soon would crush her effectually. What did they want of her? Why did they try every thing to exasperateher to the utmost? Did they expect some catastrophe to result from herdespair?

Unfortunately, she did not examine this question carefully, tooinexperienced as she was to suspect the subtle cunning of people whosewickedness would have astonished a criminal judge. Ah, how useful oneword from Daniel would have been to her at this crisis! But, tremblingwith anguish for his betrothed, the unhappy man had not dared repeatto her the terrible words which had escaped M. De Brevan, in his firstmoment of expansion, --

"Miss Brandon leaves the dagger and the poisoned cup to fools, as toocoarse and too dangerous means to get rid of people. She has safermeans to suppress those who are in her way--means which justice neverdiscovers. "

Lost in sombre reflections, the poor girl was forgetting the hour, and did not notice that it had become dark already, when she heard thedinner-bell ring. She was free not to go down; but she revolted at theidea that the Countess Sarah might think her overcome. So she said toherself, --

"No. She shall never know how much I suffer!"

Ringing, then, for Clarissa, who had come back, she said, --

"Come, quick, dress me!"

And in less than five minutes she had arranged her beautiful hair, andput on one of her most becoming dresses. While changing her dress, shenoticed the rustling of paper. 

"Ah!" she said to herself, "my letter to Daniel. I had forgotten it. "

Was it already too late to send it to M. De Brevan? Probably it was. Butwhy might she not try, at least? So she gave it to Clarissa, saying, --

"You will take a cab, and take this letter immediately to M. De Brevan, Rue Laffitte, No. 62. If he is out, you will leave it, telling thepeople to be sure to give it to him as soon as he comes in. You can findsome excuse, if they should ask you why you are going out. Be discreet. "

She herself went down stairs, so determined to conceal her emotion, thatshe actually had a smile on her lips as she entered the dining-room. The fever that devoured her gave to her features unwonted animation, and to her eyes a strange brilliancy. Her beauty, ordinarily a littleimpaired, shone forth once more in amazing splendor, so as to eclipsealmost that of the countess. 

Even Count Ville-Handry was struck by it, and exclaimed, glancing at hisyoung wife, --

"Oh, oh!"

Otherwise, this was the only notice which was taken of Henrietta. Afterthat, no one seemed to mind her presence, except M. Elgin, whose eyesoftened whenever he looked at her. But what was that to her? Affectinga composure which she was far from possessing, she made an effort toeat, when a servant entered, and very respectfully whispered a few wordsin the ear of the countess. 

"Very well, " she said; "I'll be there directly. "

And, without vouchsafing an explanation, she left the table, andremained perhaps ten minutes away. 

"What was it?" asked Count Ville-Handry, with an accent of tenderestinterest, when his young wife reappeared. 

"Nothing, my dear, " she replied, as she took her seat again, --"nothing, some orders to give. "

Still Henrietta thought she noticed under this apparent indifference ofher step-mother an expression of cruel satisfaction. More than that, shefancied she saw the countess and Mrs. Brian rapidly exchange looks, onesaying, "Well, " and the other answering, "All right. "

The poor girl, prejudiced as she was, felt as if she had been stabbedonce more to the heart. 

"These wretches, " she thought, "have prepared another insult for me. "

This suspicion took so powerfully hold of her, that when dinner wasover, instead of returning to her rooms, she followed her father and hisnew "friends" into the sitting-room. Count Ville-Handry spoke of Mrs. Brian and M. Elgin always as "the family. "

They did not long remain alone. The count and his young wife hadprobably let it be known that they would be at home that evening; andsoon a number of visitors came in, some of them old friends of thefamily, but the great majority intimates from Circus Street. Henriettawas too busy watching her stepmother to notice how eagerly she herselfwas examined, what glances they cast at her, and how careful the marriedladies, as well as the young girls, were to leave her alone. It requireda brutal scene to open her mind to the truth, and to bring her thoughtsback to the horrible reality of her situation. That scene came but toosoon. 

As the visitors increased, the conversation had ceased to be general, and groups had formed; so that two ladies came to sit down close byHenrietta. They were apparently friends of the young countess, for shedid not know them, and one of them had a strong foreign accent. Theywere talking. Instinctively Henrietta listened. 

"Why did you not bring your daughter?" asked one of them. 

"How could I?" replied the other. "I would not bring her here for theworld. Don't you know what kind of a woman the count's daughter is? Itis incredible, and almost too scandalous. On the day of her father'smarriage she ran away with somebody, by the aid of a servant, who hassince been dismissed; and they had to get the police to help them bringher back. If it had not been for our dear Sarah, who is goodness itself, they would have sent her to a house of correction. "

A stifled cry interrupted them. They looked round. Henrietta hadsuddenly been taken ill, and had fallen to the ground. Instantly, andwith one impulse, everybody was up. But the honorable M. Elgin had beenahead of them all, and had rushed up with such surprising promptness atthe very moment when the accident happened, that it almost looked as ifhe had had a presentiment, and was watching for the precise time whenhis assistance would be needed. 

Raising Henrietta with a powerful arm, he laid her on a sofa, notforgetting to slip a cushion under her head. Immediately the countessand the other ladies crowded around the fainting girl, rubbing the palmsof her hands, moistening her temples with aromatic vinegar and cologne, and holding bottles of salts persistently to her nostrils. 

Still all efforts to bring her to remained sterile; and this was soextraordinary, that even Count Ville-Handry began to be moved, althoughat first he had been heard to exclaim, --

"Pshaw! Leave her alone. It is nothing. "

The mad passion of senile love had not yet entirely extinguished in himthe instincts of a father; and anxiety rekindled the affection he hadformerly felt for his child. He rushed, therefore, to the vestibule, calling out to the servants who were there on duty, --

"Quick! Let some one run for the doctor; never mind which, --thenearest!"

This acted as a signal for the guests to scatter at once. Findingthat this fainting-fit lasted too long, and fearing perhaps a fataltermination, a painful scene, and tears, they slyly slipped out, one byone, and escaped. 

In this way the countess, Mrs. Brian, M. Elgin, and the unhappy fatherfound themselves soon once more alone with poor Henrietta, who was stillunconscious. 

"We ought not to leave her here, " said Countess Sarah; "she will bebetter in her bed. "

"Yes, that is true, you are right!" replied the count. "I shall have hercarried to her room. "

And he was stretching out his hand to pull the bell, when Sir Thornstopped him, saying in a voice of deep emotion, --

"Never mind, count. I'll carry her myself. "

And, without waiting for an answer, he took her up like a feather, andcarried her to her room, followed by Count Ville-Handry, and his youngwife. He could, of course, not remain in Henrietta's room; but it lookedas if he could not tear himself away. For some time the servants, quiteamazed, saw him walk up and down the passage with feverish steps, and, in spite of his usual impassiveness, giving all the signs ofextraordinary excitement. Every ten minutes he paused in his walk to askat the door, with a voice full of anxiety, --

"Well?"

"She is still in the same condition, " was the answer. 

In the meantime two physicians had arrived, but without obtaining anybetter results than the countess and her friends. They had exhaustedall the usual remedies for such cases, and began, evidently, to be nota little surprised at the persistency of the symptoms. Nor could CountVille-Handry suppress his growing anxiety as he saw them consulting inthe recess of one of the windows, discussing more energetic means tobe employed. At last, toward midnight, Sir Thorn saw the young countesscome out of Henrietta's room. 

"How is she?" he cried out. 

Then the countess said, speaking very loud, so as to be heard by theservants, --

"She is coming to; and that is why I am leaving her. She dislikes me soterribly, that poor unhappy child, that I fear my presence might do herharm. "

Henrietta had indeed recovered her consciousness. First had come ashiver running over her whole body; then she had tried painfully andrepeatedly to raise herself on her pillows, looking around, --

Evidently she did not remember what had happened, and mechanicallypassed her hand to and fro over her brow, as if to brush away the darkveil that was hanging over her mind, looking with haggard eyes at thedoctors, at her father, and at her confidante, Clarissa, who knelt byher bedside, weeping. 

At last, when, all of a sudden, the horrid reality broke upon her mind, she threw herself back, and cried out, --

"O God!"

But she was saved; and the doctors soon withdrew, declaring thatthere was nothing to apprehend now, provided their prescriptions werecarefully observed. The count then came up to his daughter, and, takingher hands, asked her, --

"Come, child. What has happened? What was the matter?"

She looked upon him in utter despair, and then said in a low voice, --

"Nothing! only you have ruined me, father. "

"How, how?" said the count. "What do you mean?"

And very much embarrassed, perhaps angry against himself, and trying tofind an excuse for what he had done, he added, simpering, --

"Is it not your own fault? Why do you treat Sarah so badly, and do allyou can to exasperate me?"

"Yes, you are right. It is my fault, " murmured Henrietta. 

She said it in a tone of bitter irony now; but afterwards, when she wasalone, and more quiet, reflecting in the silence of the night, she hadto acknowledge, and confess to herself, that it was so. The scandal bywhich she had intended to crush her step-mother had fallen back uponherself, and crushed her. 

Still, the next morning she was a little better; and, in spite of allthat Clarissa could say, she would get up, and go down stairs, for allher hopes henceforth depended on that letter written by Daniel. She hadbeen waiting day after day for M. De Brevan, who was to bring it to her;and for nothing in the world would she have been absent when he came atlast. 

But she waited for him in vain that day, and four days after. 

Attributing his tardiness to some new misfortune, she thought of writingto him, when at last, on Tuesday, --the day which the countess had chosenfor her reception-day, --but not until the room was already quite full ofcompany, the servant announced, --"M. Palmer, M. De Brevan!"

Seized with most violent emotions, Henrietta turned round suddenly, casting upon the door one of those glances in which a whole soul isread at once. At last she was to know him whom her Daniel had called hissecond self. Two men entered: one, quite old, had gray hair, and lookedas grave and solemn as a member of parliament; the other, who might bethirty or thirty-five years old, looked cold and haughty, having thinlips and a sardonic smile. 

"That is the man!" said Henrietta to herself; "that is Daniel's friend!"

At first she disliked him excessively. Upon examining him more closely, she thought his composure affected, and his whole appearance lackingin frankness. But she never thought for a moment of distrusting M. DeBrevan. Daniel had blindly recommended him to her; and that was enough. She had been too severely punished when she tried to follow her owninspirations, ever to think of repeating the experiment. 

Still she kept him in view. After having been presented to the CountessSarah and her husband, he had thrown himself into the crowd, andmanaged, after a while, to get near to her. He went from one group toanother, throwing a word to each one, gaining thus, insensibly, andwithout affectation, a small chair, which was vacant, by the side ofHenrietta. 

And the air of perfect indifference with which he took possession of itwould have made you think he had fully measured the danger of riskinga confidential talk with a young lady under the eyes of fifty or sixtypersons. He commenced with some of those set phrases which furnish thecurrency of society, speaking loud enough to be heard by the neighbors, and to satisfy their curiosity, if they should have a fancy forlistening. As he noticed that Henrietta had turned very red, and lookedovercome, while fixing most anxiously her eyes upon him, he even said, --

"I pray you, madam, affect a little more indifference. Smile; we may bewatched. Remember that we must not know each other; that we are perfectstrangers to each other. "

Then he began in a very loud voice to sing the praise of the last newplay that had been performed, until finally, thinking that he had putall suspicions asleep, he drew a little nearer, and, casting down hiseyes, he said, --

"It is useless to tell you, madam, that I am M. De Brevan. "

"I heard your name announced, sir, " replied Henrietta in the same way. 

"I have taken the liberty of writing to you, madam, under cover to yourmaid Clarissa, according to Daniel's orders; but I hope you will pardonme. "

"I have nothing to pardon, sir, but to thank you very much, from thebottom of my heart, for your generous devotion. "

No man is perfect. A passing blush colored the cheeks of M. De Brevan;he had to cough a little; and once or twice passed his hand between hiscollar and his neck, as if he felt troubled in his throat. 

"You must have thought, " continued Henrietta, "that I was not ingreat haste to avail myself of your kind offer; but--there weredifficulties--in my way"--

"Oh, yes! I know, " broke in M. De Brevan, sadly shaking his head; "yourmaid has told me. For she found me at home, as no doubt you have heard;and your letter arrived just in time to be sent on with mine. They willgain a fortnight in this way; for the mail for Cochin China does notleave more than once a month, --on the _26th_. "

But he paused suddenly, or rather raised his voice to resume his accountof the new drama. Two young ladies had stopped just before them. As soonas they were gone, he went on, --

"I bring you, madam, Daniel's letter. "

"Ah!"

"I have folded it up very small, and I have it here in my hand; if youwill let your handkerchief fall, I'll slip it into it as I pick it up. "

The trick was not new; but it was also not very difficult. StillHenrietta did it awkwardly enough. Her letting the handkerchief falllooked any thing but natural; and, when she took it back again, she wasall eagerness. Then, when she felt the crisp paper under the folds ofthe linen, she became all crimson in her face. Fortunately, M. De Brevanhad the presence of mind to rise suddenly, and to move his chair so asto help her in concealing her embarrassment. Then, when he saw hercalm again, he sat down once more, and went on, with an accent of deepinterest, --

"Now, madam, permit me to inquire after your position here. "

"It is terrible. "

"Do they harass you?"

"Oh, fearfully!"

"No doubt, your step-mother?"

"Alas! who else would do it? But she dissembles, veiling her malignityunder the most affected gentleness. In appearance she is all kindnessto me. And my poor father becomes a willing instrument in her hands, --mypoor father, formerly so kind, and so fond of me!"

She was deeply moved; and M. De Brevan saw the tears starting in hereyes. Quite frightened, he said, --

"Madam, for Heaven's sake control yourself!"

And, anxious to turn Henrietta's thoughts from her father, he asked, --

"How is Mrs. Brian to you?"

"She always takes sides against me. "

"Naturally. And Sir Thorn?"

"You wrote me that I should mistrust him particularly, and so I do; but, I must confess, he alone seems to be touched by my misfortunes. "

"Ah! that is the very reason why you ought to fear him. "

"How so?"

M. De Brevan hesitated, and then answered, speaking very rapidly, andafter having looked around cautiously, --

"Because M. Elgin might very well cherish a hope of replacing Daniel inyour heart, and of becoming your husband. "

"Great God!" exclaimed Henrietta, sinking back in her chair with anexpression of horror. "Is it possible?"

"I am quite sure of it, " replied M. Brevan. 

And, as if he had been frightened himself by what he had said, headded, --

"Yes, I am quite sure. I have read the heart of that man; and beforelong you will have some terrible evidence of his intentions. But I pray, madam, let this remain a secret between us, to be kept religiously. Never allow yourself the slightest allusion. "

"What can I do?" murmured the poor girl, "what can I do? You alone, sir, can advise me. "

For some time M. De Brevan continued silent; then he said in a very sadvoice, --

"My experience, madam, supplies me with but one advice, --be patient; saylittle; do as little as possible; and endeavor to appear insensible totheir insults. I would say to you, if you will excuse the trivialityof the comparison, imitate those feeble insects who simulate death whenthey are touched. They are defenceless; and that is their only chance ofescape. "

He had risen; and, while bowing deeply before Henrietta, he added, --

"I must also warn you, madam, not to be surprised if you see me doingevery thing in my power for the purpose of winning the good-will ofyour step-mother. Believe me, if I tell you that such duplicity isvery distasteful to my character. But I have no other way to obtain theprivilege of coming here frequently, of seeing you, and of being usefulto you, as I have promised your friend Daniel. "

XV. 

During the last visits which Daniel had paid to Henrietta, he had notconcealed from her the fact that Maxime de Brevan had formerly beenquite intimate with Sarah Brandon and her friends. But still, inexplaining his reasons for trying to renew these relations, M. De Brevanhad acted with his usual diplomacy. 

But for this, she might have conceived some vague suspicions when shesaw him, soon after he had left her, enter into a long conversationwith the countess, then speak with Sir Thorn, and finally chat mostconfidentially with austere Mrs. Brian. But now, if she noticed it all, she was not surprised. Her mind was, in fact, thousands of miles away. She thought only of that letter which she had in her pocket, and whichwas burning her fingers, so to say. She could think of nothing else. 

What would she not have given for the right to run away and read it atonce? But adversity was teaching her gradually circumspection; and shefelt it would be unwise to leave the room before the last guests haddeparted. Thus it was past two o'clock in the morning before she couldopen the precious letter, after having dismissed her faithful Clarissa. 

Alas! she did not find what she had hoped for, --advice, or, better thanthat, directions how she should conduct herself. The fact is, thatin his terrible distress, Daniel no longer was sufficiently master ofhimself to look calmly at the future, and to weigh the probabilities. Inhis despair he had filled three pages with assurances of his love, withpromises that his last thoughts would be for her, and with prayersthat she would not forget him. There were hardly twenty lines left forrecommendations, which ought to have contained the most precise andminute details. 

All his suggestions, moreover, amounted to this, --arm yourself withpatience and resignation till my return. Do not leave your father'shouse unless in the last extremity, in case of pressing danger, andunder no circumstances without first consulting Maxime. 

And to fill up the measure, from excessive delicacy, and fearing towound his friend's oversensitive feelings, Daniel had omitted to informHenrietta of certain most important circumstances. Thus he only toldher, that, if flight became her only means of escape from actualdanger, she need not hesitate from pecuniary considerations; that he hadforeseen every thing, and made the needful preparations. 

How could she guess from this, that the unlucky man, carried away andblinded by passion, had intrusted fifty or sixty thousand dollars, hisentire fortune, to his friend Maxime? Still the two friends agreed toofully on the same opinion to allow her to hesitate. Thus, when she fellasleep, she had formed a decision. She had vowed to herself that shewould meet all the torments they might inflict upon her, with thestoicism of the Indian who is bound to the stake, and to be, amongher enemies, like a dead person, whom no insult can galvanize into thesemblance of life. 

During the following weeks it was not so difficult for her to keepher promises. Whether it were weariness or calculation, they seemed toforget her. Except at meals, they took no more notice of her than if shehad not been in existence. 

That sudden access of affection which had moved Count Ville-Handryon that evening when he thought his daughter in danger had long sincepassed away. He only honored her with ironical glances, and neveraddressed a word to her. The countess observed a kind of affectionatereserve, like a well-disposed person who has seen all her advancesrepelled, and who is hurt, but quite ready to be friends at the firstsign. Mrs. Brian never opened her thin lips but to growl out someunpleasant remark, of which a single word was intelligible: shocking!There remained the Hon. M. Elgin, whose sympathetic pity showed itselfdaily more clearly. But, since Maxime's warning, Henrietta avoided himanxiously. 

She was thus leading a truly wretched life in this magnificent palace, in which she was kept a prisoner by her father's orders; for such shewas; she could no longer disguise it from herself. She felt at everymoment that she was watched, and overlooked most jealously, even whenthey seemed to forget her most completely. The great gates, formerlyalmost always open, were now kept carefully closed; and, when they wereopened to admit a carriage, the concierge mounted guard before them, asif he were the keeper of a jail. The little garden-gate had been securedby two additional enormous locks; and whenever Henrietta, during herwalks in the garden, came near it, she saw one of the gardeners watchher with anxious eyes. They were apparently afraid, not only that shemight escape, but that she might keep up secret communications withthe outer world. She wanted to be clear about that; and one morning sheasked her father's permission to send to the Duchess of Champdoce, and beg her to come and spend the day with her. But Count Ville-Handrybrutally replied that he did not want to see the Duchess of Champdoce;and that, besides, she was not in Paris, as her husband had taken hersouth to hasten her recovery. 

On another occasion, toward the end of February, and when several daysof fine spring weather had succeeded each other, the poor child couldnot help expressing a desire to go out and breathe a little fresh air. Her father said, in reply to her request, --"Every day, your mother andI go out and drive for an hour or two in the Bois de Boulogne. Why don'tyou go with us?"

She said nothing. She would sooner have allowed herself to be cut topieces than to appear in public seated by the side of the young countessand in the same carriage with her. 

Months passed thus without her having put a foot outside of the palace, except her daily attendance at mass at eight o'clock on Sunday mornings. Count Ville-Handry had not dared to refuse her that; but he had addedthe most painful and most humiliating conditions. On these occasions M. Ernest, his valet, accompanied her, with express orders not to lether speak to any one whatsoever, and to "apprehend" her (this was thecount's own expression), and to bring her back forcibly, if needs be, ifshe should try to escape. 

But in vain they multiplied the insults; they did not extort a singlecomplaint. Her unalterable patience would have touched ordinaryexecutioners. And yet she had no other encouragement, no other support, but what she received from M. De Brevan. 

Faithful to the plan which he had mentioned to her, he had managed sowell as gradually to secure the right to come frequently to the house. He was on the best terms with Mrs. Brian; and the count invited himto dinner. At this time Henrietta had entirely overcome her prejudiceagainst him. She had discovered in M. De Brevan such a respectfulinterest in her welfare, such almost womanly delicacy, and so muchprudence and discretion, that she blessed Daniel for having left herthis friend, and counted upon his devotion as upon that of a brother. 

Was it not he, who, on certain evenings, when she was well-nigh overcomeby despair, whispered to her, --

"Courage; here is another day gone! Daniel will soon be back!"

But the more Henrietta was left to the inspirations of solitude, andcompelled to live within herself only, the more she observed all thatwas going on around her. And she thought she noticed some very strangechanges. Never would Count Ville-Handry's first wife have been able torecognize her reception-rooms. Where was that select society which hadbeen attracted by her, and which she had fashioned into something like acourt, in which her husband was king? The palace had become, so to say, the headquarters of that motley society which forms the "Foreign Legion"of pleasure and of scandal. 

Sarah Brandon, now Countess Ville-Handry, was surrounded by that strangearistocracy which has risen upon the ruins of old Paris, --a contrabandaristocracy, a dangerous kind of high life, which, by its unheard-ofextravagance and mysterious splendor, dazzles the multitude, and puzzlesthe police. 

The young countess did not exactly receive people notoriously tainted. She was too clever to commit such a blunder; but she bestowed hersweetest smiles upon all those equivocal Bohemians who represent allraces, and whose revenues come much less from good acres in the broadsunlight than from the credulity and stupidity of mankind. 

At first Count Ville-Handry had been rather shocked by this new world, whose manners and customs were unknown to him, and whose language evenhe hardly understood. But it had not taken long to acclimatize him. 

He was the firm, the receiver of the fortune, the flag that covers themerchandise, the master, in fine, although he exercised no authority. All these titles secured to him the appearance of profound respect; andall vied with each other in flattering him to the utmost, and payinghim court in the most abject manner. This led him to imagine that hehad recovered the prestige he had enjoyed in former days, thanks tothe skilful management of his first wife; and he assumed a new kind ofgrotesque importance commensurate with his revived vanity. 

He had, besides, gone to work once more most industriously. All thebusiness men who had called upon him before his marriage alreadyreappeared now, accompanied by that legion of famished speculators, whomthe mere report of a great enterprise attracts, like the flies settlingupon a lump of sugar. The count shut himself up with these men in hisstudy, and often spent the whole afternoon with them there. 

"Most probably something is going on there, " thought Henrietta. 

She was quite sure of it when she saw her father unhesitatingly give upthe splendid suite of apartments in the lower story of the palace, whichwere cut up into an infinite number of small rooms. On the doors thereappeared, one by one, signs not usually found in such houses; as, "Office, " "Board Room, " "Secretary, " "Cashier's Room. "

Then office-furniture appeared in loads, --tables, desks, chairs; thenmountains of huge volumes; and at last two immense safes, as large as abachelor's-lodging. 

Henrietta was seriously alarmed, and knowing beforehand that no one inthe house would answer her questions, she turned to M. De Brevan. In themost off-hand manner he assured her that he knew nothing about it, butpromised to inquire, and to let her know soon. 

There was no necessity; for one morning, when Henrietta was wanderingabout listlessly around the offices, which began to be filled withclerks, she noticed an immense advertisement on one of the doors. 

She went up to it, and read:--

FRANCO-AMERICAN SOCIETY, For the development of Pennsylvania petroleum wells. 

Capital, _Ten Million of Francs. _ Twenty Thousand Shares of 500 Francseach. 

The Charter may be seen at the Office of M. Lilois, N. P. 

_President_, Count Ville-Handry. 

The books for subscription will be opened on the 25th of March. 

principal office, _Palace of Count Ville-Handry, Rue de Varennes_. Branch office, _Rue Lepelletier, No. 1p_. 

At the foot, in small print, was a full explanation of the enormousprofits which might be expected, the imperative necessity which had ledto the establishment of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Society, the natureof its proposed operations, the immense services which it would renderto the world at large, and, above all, the immense profits which wouldpromptly accrue to the stockholders. 

Then there came an account of petroleum or oil wells, in which itwas clearly demonstrated that this admirable product represented, incomparison with other oils, a saving of more than sixty per cent;that it gave a light of matchless purity and brilliancy; that it burntwithout odor; and, above all, that, in spite of what might have beensaid by interested persons, there was no possible danger of explosionconnected with its use. 

"In less than twenty years, " concluded the report in a strain of lyricprophecy, "petroleum will have taken the place of all the primitiveand useless illuminating mediums now employed. It will replace, in likemanner, all the coarse and troublesome varieties of fuel of our day. In less than twenty years the whole world will be lighted and heated bypetroleum; and the oil-wells of Pennsylvania are inexhaustible. "

A eulogy on the president, Count Ville-Handry, crowned the wholework, --a very clever eulogy, which called him a man sent by Providence;and, alluding to his colossal fortune, suggested that, with such amanager at the head of the enterprise, the shareholders could notpossibly run any risk. 

Henrietta was overwhelmed with surprise. "Ah!" she said to herself, "this is what Sarah Brandon and her accomplices were aiming at. Myfather is ruined!"

That Count Ville-Handry should risk all he possessed in this terriblegame of speculation was not so surprising to Henrietta. But whatshe could not comprehend was this, that he should assume the wholeresponsibility of such a hazardous enterprise, and run the terriblerisk of a failure. How could he, with his deeply-rooted aristocraticprejudices, ever consent to lend his name to an industrial enterprise?

"It must have cost prodigies of patience and cunning, " she thought, "to induce him to make such a sacrifice, such a surrender of old andcherished convictions. They must have worried him terribly, and broughtto bear upon him a fearful pressure. "

She was, therefore, truly amazed, when, two days afterwards, she becameaccidentally a witness to a lively discussion between her father andthe countess on this very subject of the famous placards, which werenow scattered all over Paris and France. The countess seemed to bedistressed by the whole affair, and presented to her husband all theobjections which Henrietta herself would have liked to have urged;only she did it with all the authority she derived from the count'spassionate love for her. She did not understand, she said, how herhusband, a nobleman of ancient lineage, could stoop to "making money. "Had he not enough of it already? Would he be any happier if he had twiceor thrice as many thousands a year?

He met all these objections with a sweetish smile, like a great artistwho hears an ignoramus criticise his work. And, when the countesspaused, he deigned to explain to her in that emphatic manner whichbetrayed his intense conceit, that if he, the representative of the veryoldest nobility, threw himself into the great movement, it was for thepurpose of setting a lofty example. He had no desire for "filthy lucre, "he assured her; he only desired to render his country a great service. 

"Too dangerous a service!" replied the countess. "If you succeed, as youhope, who will thank you for it? No one. More than that, if you speakto them of disinterestedness, they will laugh in your face. If the thingfails, on the other hand, who is to pay? You. And they will call you adunce into the bargain. "

Count Ville-Handry shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly; and thenhe said, taking his wife by the hand, --

"Would you love me less if I were ruined?"

She looked at him with her beautiful eyes as if overflowing withaffection, and replied in a voice full of emotion, --

"God is my witness, my friend, that I should be delighted to be able toprove to you that I did not think of money when I married you. "

"Sarah!" cried the count in ecstasy, "Sarah, my darling, that was a wordworth the whole of that fortune which you blame me for risking. "

Even if Henrietta had been more disposed to mistrust appearances, she would never have supposed that the whole scene was most cunninglydevised for the purpose of impressing upon the count's feeble intellectthis idea more forcibly than ever. She was rather inclined to believe, and she did believe, that this Petroleum Society, conceived by SirThorn, was unpleasant to the countess; and that thus discord reigned inthe enemy's camp. 

The result of her meditations was a long letter to a gentleman for whomher mother had always entertained a great esteem, the Duke of Champdoce. After having explained to him her situation, she told him all that sheknew of the new enterprise, and besought him to interfere whilst it wasyet time. 

When she had written her letter, she gave it to Clarissa, urging herto carry it immediately to its address. Alas! the poor girl was rapidlyapproaching an incident which was to bring about a crisis. 

Having by chance followed the maid down stairs, she saw her go into theCountess Sarah's room, and hand her the letter. 

Was Henrietta thus betrayed even by the girl whom she thought so fullydevoted to her interests, and since when? Perhaps from the firstday. Ah, how many things this explained to her which she had hithertowondered at as perfectly incomprehensible!

This last infamy, however, tempted her to lay aside for once hercarefully-nursed reserve. She rushed into the room, crimson with shameand wrath, and said in a fierce tone, --

"Give me that letter, madam!"

Clarissa had fled when she saw her treachery discovered. 

"This letter, " replied the countess coldly, "I shall hand to yourfather, madam, as it is my duty to do. "

"Ah, take care, madam!" broke in the poor girl with a threateninggesture; "take care! My patience has its limits. "

Her attitude and her accent were so terrible, that the countess thoughtit prudent to put a table between herself and her victim. But suddenlya great revolution had taken place in Henrietta's heart. She saidroughly, --

"Look here, madam, let us have an explanation while we are alone. Whatdo you want me to do?"

"Nothing, I assure you. "

"Nothing? Who is it, then, that has meanly slandered me, has robbed meof my father's affection, surrounds me with spies, and overwhelms mewith insults? Who forces me to lead this wretched life to which I amcondemned?"

The countess showed in her features how deeply she was reflecting. Shewas evidently calculating the effect of a new plan. 

"You will have it so, " she replied resolutely. "Very well, then, I willbe frank with you. Yes, I am bent on ruining you. Why? You know it aswell as I do. I will ask you, in my turn, who is it that has doneevery thing that could possibly be done to prevent my marriage? Who hasendeavored to crush me? Who would like to drive me from this house likean infamous person? Is it not you, always you? Yes, you are right. Ihate you; I hate you unto death, and I avenge myself!"

"Madam!"

"Wait! What had I done to you before my marriage? Nothing. You did noteven know me by name. They came and told you atrocious stories inventedby my enemies, and you believed them. Your father told you, 'They arewicked libels. ' What did you answer? That 'those only are libelled whodeserve it. ' I wanted to prove to you that it is not so. You are thepurest and chastest of girls whom I know; are you not? Very well. I defyyou to find a single person around you who does not believe that youhave had lovers. "

Extreme situations have this peculiarity, that the principal actors maybe agitated by the most furious passions, and still outwardly preservethe greatest calmness. Thus these two women, who were burning withmortal hatred, spoke with an almost calm voice. 

"And you think, madam, " resumed Henrietta, "that sufferings like minecan be long continued?"

"They will be continued till it pleases me to make an end to them. "

"Or till I come of age. "

The countess made a great effort to conceal her surprise. 

"Oh!" she said to herself. "Oh, oh!"

"Or, " continued the young girl, "till he returns whom you have takenfrom me, my betrothed, M. Daniel Champcey. "

"Stop, madam. You are mistaken. It was not I who sent Daniel away. "

Daniel! the countess said so; said familiarly, Daniel! Had she any rightto do so? How? Whence this extraordinary impudence?

Still Henrietta saw in it only a new insult; no suspicion entered hersoul, and she replied in the most ironical tone, --

"Then it was not you who sent that petition to the secretary of thenavy? It was not you who ordered and paid for that forged document whichcaused M. Champcey to be ordered abroad?"

"No; and I told him so myself, the day before he left, in his own room. "

Henrietta was stunned. What? This woman had gone to see Daniel? Was thistrue? It was not even plausible. 

"In his room?" she repeated, --"in his room?"

"Why, yes, in University Street. I foresaw that trick which I couldnot prevent, and I wished to prevent it. I had a thousand reasons forwishing ardently that he should remain in Paris. "

"A thousand reasons? You? Tell me only one!"

The countess courtesied, as if excusing herself for being forced to tellthe truth against her inclination, and added simply, --

"I love him!"

As if she had suddenly seen an abyss opening beneath her feet, Henriettathrew herself back, pale, trembling, her eyes starting from theirsockets. 

"You---love--Daniel!" she stammered, --"you love him!"

And, agitated by a nervous tremor, she said, laughing painfully, --

"But he--he? Can you hope that he will ever love you?"

"Yes, any day I may wish for it. And I shall wish it the day when hereturns. "

Was she speaking seriously? or was the whole scene only a bit of cruelsport? That is what Henrietta was asking herself, as far as she was ableto control her thoughts; for she felt her head growing dizzy, and herthoughts rushed wildly through her mind. 

"You love Daniel!" she repeated once more, "and yet you were married thevery week after his departure!"

"Alas, yes!"

"And what was my father to you? A magnificent prey, which you didnot like to let escape, --an easy dupe. After all, you acknowledge ityourself, it was his fortune you wanted. It was for his money'ssake that you married him, --you, the young, marvellously-beautifulwoman, --the old man. "

A smile rose upon the lips of the countess, in which she appearedherself in all the deep treachery of her secret calculations. She brokein, laughing ironically--

"I? I had coveted the fortune of this dear count, my husband? You do notthink of it, madam? Have you so completely forgotten the zeal with whichyou heard me, only the other day, try to turn him from this enterprisein which he is about to embark all he possesses?"

Henrietta hardly knew whether she was awake or asleep. Was she not, perhaps, under the influence of one of those hallucinations which feversproduce?

"And you dare tell me all these things, me, Count Ville-Handry's owndaughter, the daughter of your husband?"

"Why not?" asked the countess. 

And, shrugging her shoulders, she added in a careless tone, --

"Do you think I am afraid of your reporting me to him? You are atliberty to try it. Listen. I think I hear your father's footstep in thevestibule; call him in, and tell him what we have been talking about. "

And, as Henrietta said nothing, she laughed, and said, --

"Ah! you hesitate. You do not dare do it? Well, you are wrong. I mean tohand him your letter, and I shall call him. "

There was no need for it; for at the same moment the count entered, followed by austere, grim Mrs. Brian. As he perceived his wife and hisdaughter, his face lighted up immediately; and he exclaimed, --

"What? You are here, both of you, and chatting amicably like twocharming sisters? My Henrietta has come back to her senses, I trust. "

They were both silent; and, seeing how they looked at each other withfierce glances, he went on in a tone of great bitterness--

"But no, it is not so! I am not so fortunate. What is the matter? Whathas happened?"

The countess shook her head sadly, and replied, --

"The matter is, that your daughter, during your absence, has written aletter to one of my most cruel enemies, to that man who, you know, on our wedding-day, slandered me meanly; in fine, to the Duke ofChampdoce!"

"And has any one of my servants dared to carry that letter?"

"No, my friend! It was brought to me in obedience to your orders; andthe young lady summoned me haughtily to hand her that letter. "

"That letter?" cried the count. "Where is that letter?"

The countess gave it to him with these words, --

"Perhaps it would be better to throw it into the fire without readingit. "

But already he had torn the envelope; and, as he was reading the firstlines, a crimson blush overspread his temples, and his eyes becamebloodshot. For Henrietta, sure of the Duke of Champdoce, had nothesitated to open her heart to him, describing her situation as itreally was; painting her step-mother as he had anticipated she wouldbe; and at every turn certain phrases were repeated, which were so manyblows with a dagger to the count. 

"This is unheard of!" he growled with a curse. "This isincomprehensible! Such perversity has never been known before. "

He went and stood before his daughter, his arms crossed, and cried witha voice of thunder, --

"Wretch! Will you disgrace us all?"

She made no reply. Immovable like a statue, she did not tremble underthe storm. Besides, what could she do? Defend herself? She would notstoop to do that. Repeat the impudent avowals of the countess? Whatwould be the use? Did she not know beforehand that the count would notbelieve her? In the meantime, grim Mrs. Brian had taken a seat by theside of her beloved Sarah. 

"I, " she said, "if I were, for my sins, afflicted with such a daughter, I would get her a husband as soon as possible. "

"I have thought of that, " replied the count; "and I believe I have evenhit upon an arrangement which"--

But, when he saw his daughter's watchful eye fixed upon him, he paused, and, pointing towards the door, said to her brutally, --

"You are in the way here!"

Without saying a word, she went out, much less troubled by her father'sfury than by the strange confessions which the countess had made. Sheonly now began to measure the full extent of her step-mother's hatred, and knew that she was too practical a woman to waste her time by makingidle speeches. Therefore, if she had stated that she loved Daniel, --astatement which Henrietta believed to be untrue, --if she had impudentlyconfessed that she coveted her husband's fortune, she had a purpose inview. What was that purpose? How could any one unearth the truth fromamong such a mass of falsehood and deception?

At all events, the scene was strange enough to confound any one'sjudgment. And when Henrietta, that evening, found an opportunity to tellM. De Brevan what had happened, he trembled in his chair, and was sooverwhelmed with surprise, that he forgot his precautions, and exclaimedalmost aloud, --

"That is not possible!"

There was no doubt that he, usually so impassive, was terribly excited. In less than five minutes he had changed color more than ten times. Youwould have thought he was a man who at a single blow sees the edifice ofall his hopes crumble to pieces. At last, after a moment's reflection, he said, --

"Perhaps it would be wise, madam, to leave the house. "

But she replied sadly, --

"What? How can I do that? After so many odious calumnies, my honor andDaniel's honor oblige me to remain here. He recommends me only to fleeat the last extremity, and when there is no other resource left. Now, Iask you, shall I be more unhappy or more seriously threatened to-morrowthan I am to-day? Evidently not. "

XVI. 

But, this confidence which Henrietta expressed was only apparent. In herheart she suffered from the most terrible presentiments. A secret voicetold her that this scene, no doubt well prepared and carefully broughtabout, was but another step leading to the final catastrophe. 

Days, however, passed by, and nothing unusual happened. It looked as ifthey had resolved, after that crisis, to give her a short respite, andtime to recover. 

Even the watch kept upon her movements was not quite as strict asheretofore. The countess kept out of her way. Mrs. Brian had given upthe desire to frighten her by her incessant remarks. Her father she sawbut rarely; for he was entirely absorbed in the preparations for thePennsylvania Petroleum Society. Thus, a week later, all seemed to haveentirely forgotten the terrible explosion produced by the letter to theDuke of Champdoce. 

All? By no means. There was one of the inmates of the palace whorecalled it daily, --M. Thomas Elgin. 

On the very evening after the scene, his generous indignation had so fargotten the better of his usual reserve, and his pledge of neutrality, that he had taken the Countess Sarah aside, and overwhelmed her withsharp reproaches. 

"You will have to eat your own words, " he had told her, among otherthings, "if you use such abominable means to gratify your hatred. "

It is true, that, when he thus took his kinswoman aside, he also tookpains to be overheard by Henrietta. And besides, for fear, perhaps, thatshe might not fully appreciate his sentiments, he had stealthily pressedher hand, and whispered into her ear, --

"Poor, dear girl! But I am here. I shall watch. "

This sounded like a promise to afford her protection, which certainlywould have been efficient if it had been sincere. But was it sincere?

"No; most assuredly not!" said M. De Brevan when he was consulted. "Itcan be nothing but vile hypocrisy and the beginning of an abominablefarce. You will see, madam. "

What Henrietta really saw was, that the Hon. M. Elgin suddenly underwenta complete metamorphosis. A new Sir Thorn appeared, whom no one wouldhave ever suspected under the cloak of icy reserve which the former hadworn. His sympathetic pity of former days was succeeded by more tendersentiments. It was not pity now, which animated his big, blue-chinaeyes, but the half-suppressed flame of a discreet passion. In public hedid not commit himself much; but there was no little attention whichhe did not pay Henrietta by stealth. He never left the room beforeher; and, on the reception-evenings, he always took a seat by her, andremained there till the end. The most direct result of these manoeuvreswas to keep M. De Brevan from her. The latter became naturally veryindignant at this, and began to dislike Sir Thorn to such an extent, that he could hardly contain himself. 

"Well, madam, " he said to Henrietta on one of the few occasions when hecould speak to her, --"well, what did I tell you? Does the wretch showhis hand clearly enough now?"

Henrietta discouraged her curious lover as much as she could; but it wasimpossible for her to avoid him, as they lived under the same roof, andsat down twice a day at the same table. 

"The simplest way, " was M. De Brevan's advice, "would be, perhaps, toprovoke an explanation. "

But he did not wait to be asked. One morning, after breakfast, he waitedfor Henrietta in the vestibule; and, when she appeared, he said in anembarrassed manner, --

"I must speak to you, madam; it is absolutely necessary. "

She did not manifest any surprise, and simply replied, --

"Follow me, sir. "

She entered into the parlor, and he came with her. For about a minutethey remained there alone, standing face to face, --she trying to keep upher spirits, although blushing deeply; he, apparently so overcome, thathe had lost the use of his voice. At last, all of a sudden, and asif making a supreme effort, Sir Thorn began in a breathless voice todeclare, that, according to Henrietta's answer, he would be the happiestor the most unfortunate of mortals. Touched by her innocence, and thepersecutions to which she was exposed, he had at first pitied her, then, discovering in her daily more excellent qualities, unusual energy, coupled with all the charming bashfulness of a young girl, he had nolonger been able to resist such marvellous attractions. 

Henrietta, still mistress of herself, because she was convinced that M. Elgin was only playing a wretched farce, observed him as closely as shecould, and, when he paused a moment, began, --

"Believe me, sir"--

But he interrupted her, saying with unusual vehemence, --

"Oh! I beseech you, madam, let me finish. Many in my place would havespoken to your father; but I thought that would hardly be fair in yourexceptional position. Still I have reason to believe that Count Ville-Handry would look upon my proposals with favor. But then he wouldprobably have attempted to do violence to your feelings. Now I wishto be indebted to you only, madam, deciding in full enjoyment of yourliberty; for"--

An expression of intense anxiety contracted the features of his usuallyso impassive face; and he added with great earnestness, --

"Miss Henrietta, I am an honorable man; I love you. Will you be mywife?"

By a stroke of instinctive genius, he had found the only argument, perhaps, that might have procured credit for his sincerity. 

But what did that matter to Henrietta? She began, saying, --

"Believe me, sir. I fully appreciate the honor you do me; but I am nolonger free"--

"I beseech you"--

"Freely, and among all men, I have chosen M. Daniel Champcey. My life isin his hands. "

He tottered as if he had received a heavy blow, and stammered with ahalf-extinct voice, --

"Will you not leave me a glimpse of hope?"

"I would do wrong if I did so, sir, and I have never yet deceived anyone. "

But the Hon. M. Elgin was not one of those men who despair easily, andgive up. He was not discouraged by a first failure; and he showed itvery soon. The very next day he became a changed man, as if Henrietta'srefusal had withered the very roots of his life. In his carriage, hisgestures, and his tone of voice, he betrayed the utmost dejection. Helooked as if he had grown taller and thinner. A bitter smile curled onhis lips; and his magnificent whiskers, usually so admirably kept, nowhung down miserably on his chest. And this intense melancholy grew andgrew, till it became so evident to all the world, that people asked thecountess, --

"What is the matter with poor M. Elgin? He looks funereal. "

"He is unhappy, " was the answer, accompanied by a sigh, which soundedas if it had been uttered in order to increase curiosity, and stimulatepeople to observe him more closely. Several persons did observe him; andthey soon found out that Sir Thorn no longer took his seat by Henriettaas formerly, and that he avoided every occasion to address her a word. 

For all that he was not resigned; far from that. He only laid siege froma distance now, spending whole evenings in looking at her from afar, absorbed in mute ecstasy. And at all times, incessantly and everywhere, she met him, as if he had been her shadow, or as if he had beencondemned to breathe the air which had been displaced by her petticoats. One would have thought him endowed with the gift of multiplying himself;for he was inevitably seen wherever she was, --leaning against thedoor-frame, or resting his elbow on the mantlepiece, his eyes fixed uponher. And, when she did not see him, she felt his looks still weighingher down. M. De Brevan, having been made aware of his importunateattentions, seemed to check his indignation only with great difficulty. Once or twice he spoke of calling out this wretched fellow (so he calledSir Thorn); and, in order to quiet him, Henrietta had to repeat to himover and over again, that, after such an encounter, he would no longerbe able to appear at the palace, and would thus deprive her of the onlyfriend to whom she could look for assistance. 

He yielded; but he said after careful consideration, --

"This abominable persecution cannot go on, madam: this man compromisesyou too dreadfully. You ought to lay your complaint before CountVille-Handry. "

She decided to do so, not without great reluctance; but the countstopped her at the first word she uttered. 

"I think, my daughter, your vanity blinds you. Before M. Elgin, whois one of the most eminent financiers in all Europe, should think ofa little insignificant person like you, he would look a long timeelsewhere. "

"Permit me, father"--

"Stop! If you should, however, not deceive yourself, it would be thegreatest good luck for you, and an honor of which you ought to be veryproud indeed. Do you think it would be easy to find a husband for you, after all the unpleasant talk to which you have given occasion?"

"I do not wish to marry, father. "

"Of course not. However, as such a marriage would meet all my wishes, asit would serve to tighten the bonds which unite us with this honorablefamily (if M. Thomas Elgin should really have such intentions asyou mention), I should know, I think, how to force you to marry him. However, I shall speak to him, and see. "

He spoke to him indeed, and soon; for the very next morning the countessand Mrs. Brian purposely went out, so as to leave Henrietta and SirThorn alone. The honorable gentleman looked sadder than usually. Hebegan thus, --

"Is it really true, madam, that you have made complaint to your father?"

"Your pertinacity compelled me to do so, " replied Henrietta. 

"Is the idea of becoming my wife so very revolting to you?"

"I have told you, sir, I am no longer free. "

"Yes, to be sure! You love M. Daniel Champcey. You love him. He knowsit; for you had told him so, no doubt: and yet he has forsaken you. "

Sometimes, in her innermost heart, Henrietta had accused Daniel. Butwhat she thought she would permit no one else to think. She replied, therefore, haughtily, --

"It was a point of honor with M. Champcey, and it was so with me. Ifhe had hesitated, I would have been the first one to say to him, 'Dutycalls; you must go. '"

Sir Thorn shook his head with a sardonic smile, and said, --

"But he did not hesitate. It is ten months now since he left you; andno one knows for how many more months, for how many years, he will beabsent. For his sake you suffer martyrdom; and, when he returns, he mayhave long since forgotten you. "

Her eyes beaming with faith, Henrietta rose to her full height, andreplied, --

"I believe in Daniel as surely as in myself. "

"And if they convinced you that you were mistaken?"

"They would render me a very sad service, which would bring no reward toany one. "

Sir Thorn's lips moved, as if he were about to answer. A thought seemedto stop him. Then in a stifled voice, with a gesture of despair, headded, --

"Keep your illusions, madam; and farewell. "

He was going to leave the room; but she threw herself in his way, crossed her arms, and said to him in an imperative tone, --

"You have gone too far, sir, to retrace your steps. You are bound nowto justify your insidious insinuations, or, to confess that they werefalse. "

Then he seemed to make up his mind, and said, speaking rapidly, --

"You will have it so? Well, be it so. Know, then, since you insist uponit, that M. Daniel Champcey has been deceiving you most wickedly; thathe does not love you, and probably never did love you. "

"That is what you say, " replied Henrietta. 

Her haughty carriage, the disdain, rather than disgust, with whichshe spoke, could not fail to exasperate M. Elgin. He checked himself, however, and said, in a short and cutting tone, --

"I say so because it is so; and any one but you, possessing a less nobleignorance of evil, would long since have discovered the truth. Towhat do you attribute Sarah's implacable enmity? To the memory of youroffences on the occasion of her wedding? Poor child! If that had beenall, her indifference would have given you back your place months ago. Jealousy alone is capable of that fierce and insatiable hatred whichcannot be disarmed by tears or submission, --that hatred which timeincreases, instead of diminishing. Between Sarah and you, MissHenrietta, there stands a man. "

"A man?"

"Yes, --M. Daniel Champcey. "

Henrietta felt as if a sharp knife had been plunged into her bosom. 

"I do not understand you, sir, " she said. 

He, shrugging his shoulders, and assuming an air of commiseration, wenton, --

"What? You will not understand that Sarah is your rival; that she hasloved M. Champcey; that she is still madly in love with him? Ah! theyhave deceived Mrs. Brian and myself cruelly. "

"How so?"

He turned his head aside, and murmured, as if speaking to himself, --

"-------- -------- was her lover. "

Miss Ville-Handry discerned the truth with admirable instinct, drewherself up, and said in her most energetic way, --

"That is false!"

Sir Thorn trembled; but that was all. 

"You have asked me to tell the truth, " he said coldly, "and I have doneso. Try to remember. Have you forgotten that little scene, after whichM. Champcey fled from our house in the middle of the night, bareheaded, without taking his overcoat?"

"Sir?"

"Did you not think that was extraordinary? That night, you see, wediscovered the whole thing. After having been one of the foremost torecommend to Sarah to marry your father, M. Champcey came and asked herto give up that marriage. He had, before that, tried to have it brokenoff through your agency, madam, using thus his influence over you, hisbetrothed, for the benefit of his passion. "

"Ah! You lie impudently, sir!" said Henrietta. 

To this charge, which fell like a blow upon his face, he only replied, --

"I have proofs. "

"What proofs?"

"Letters written by M. Champcey to Sarah. I have obtained two; and Ihave them here in my pocket-book. "

He put at the same time his hand to his pocket. She stopped him. 

"These letters would prove nothing to me, sir. "

"But"--

She cast a withering glance at him, and said, in a voice of unbearablecontempt, --

"Those who have sent a letter to the Navy Department, which pretended tohave been written by Daniel, cannot find any difficulty in imitating hissignature. Let us break off here, sir. I forbid you ever to speak to meagain. "

M. Elgin laughed in a terrible way. 

"That is your last word?" he asked. 

Instead of answering him, she drew a step aside, thus opening the way tothe door, at which she pointed with her finger. 

"Well, " said Sir Thorn with an accent of fierce threatening, "rememberthis; I have sworn you shall be my wife, whether you will or not; and mywife you shall be!"

"Leave the room, sir, or I must give it up to you!"

He went out swearing; and, more dead than alive, Henrietta sank intoan arm-chair. As long as she had been in the presence of the enemy, herpride had enabled her to keep up the appearance of absolute faith inDaniel; but, now she was alone, terrible doubts began to beset her. Wasthere not something true in the evident exaggerations of the Hon. M. Elgin? She was not quite sure. Had not Sarah also boasted of it, thatshe loved Daniel, and that she had been in his room? Finally, Henriettarecalled with a shudder, that, when Daniel had told her of his adventurein Circus Street, he had appeared embarrassed towards the end, and hadfailed fully to explain the reasons of his flight. 

And to crown the matter, when she had tried to draw from M. De Brevanadditional information on the subject, she had been struck by hisembarrassment, and the lame and confused way in which he had defendedhis friend. 

"Ah, now all is really over!" she thought. "The measure of my sufferingsis full indeed!"

Unfortunately it was not yet full. A new persecution awaited her, infamous, monstrous, by the side of which all the others amounted tonothing. 

"Whether you will, or not, you shall be mine, " had Sir Thorn said; andfrom that moment he was bent upon convincing her that he was not the manto shrink from any thing, even unto violence. 

He was no longer the sympathetic defender of former days, nor thetimid lover, nor the sighing, rejected lover, who followed Henriettaeverywhere. He was, henceforth, a kind of wild beast, pursuing her, harassing her, persecuting her, with his eyes glaring at her withabominable lust. He no longer looked at her furtively, as formerly;but he lay in wait for her in the passages, ready, apparently, to throwhimself upon her; projecting his lips as if to touch her cheeks, andextending his arms as if to seize her around her waist. A drunken lackeypursuing a scullion would not have looked and acted more impudently. 

Terrified, the poor girl threw herself on her knees before her father, beseeching him to protect her. But he pushed her back, and reproachedher for slandering the most honorable and most inoffensive of men. Blindness could go no farther. 

And Sir Thorn knew probably of her failure; for the next day he lookedat her, laughing, as if he felt that he now might venture upon anything. And he did venture upon something, that so far would have seemedimpossible. One evening, or rather one night, when the count and thecountess were at a ball, he came and knocked at the door of Henrietta'schamber. 

Frightened, she rang the bell; and the servants who came up freed herfrom the intruder. But from that moment her terrors had no limit; and, whenever the count went out at night with his wife, she barricadedherself up in her chamber, and spent the whole night, dressed, in achair. Could she remain any longer standing upon the brink of an abysswithout name? She thought she could not; and after long and painfulhesitation, she said one evening to M. De Brevan, --

"My mind is made up; I must flee. "

Taken aback, as if he had received a blow upon his head, with his mouthwide open, his eyes stretched out, M. De Brevan had turned deadly pale;and the perspiration pearled in large drops on his temples, while hishands trembled like the eager hands of a man who touches, and is aboutto seize, a long-coveted prize. 

"Then, " he stammered out, "you are decided; you will leave your father'shouse?"

"I must, " she said; and her eyes filled with bright tears. "And thesooner I can do it the better; for every moment I spend here now maybring a new danger. And yet, before risking any thing decisive, it mightbe better first to write to Daniel's aunt in order to ask her about thedirections she may have received, and to tell her that very soon I shallcome to ask for her pity and her protection. "

"What? You think of seeking refuge at the house of that estimable lady?"

"Certainly. "

M. De Brevan, now entirely master of himself, and calculating with hisusual calmness, gravely shook his head, and said, --

"You ought to be careful, madam. To seek an asylum at the house of ourfriend's relative might be a very grave imprudence. "

"But Daniel recommended it to me in his letter. "

"Yes; but he had not considered the consequences of the advice he gaveyou. Do not deceive yourself; the wrath of your enemies will be terriblewhen they find that you have escaped them. They will pursue you; theywill employ the police; they will search for you all over France. Now, it is evident, that the very first place where they will look for youwill be Daniel's relatives. The house of the old aunt will be watchedat once, and most jealously. How can you there escape from inquiry andpursuit? It would be folly to hope for safety there. "

Pensively Henrietta hung her head. Then she said, --

"Perhaps you are right, sir. "

"Now, " continued M. De Brevan, "let us see what they would do if theyshould discover you. You are not of age, consequently you are entirelydependent on the will of your father. Under the inspiration of yourstep-mother, he would attack Daniel's aunt, on the score of havinginveigled a minor, and would bring you back here. "

She seemed to reflect; then she said suddenly, --"I can implore theassistance of the Duchess of Champdoce. "

"Unfortunately, madam, they told you the truth. For a year now, the Dukeof Champdoce and his wife have been travelling in Italy. "

A gesture of despair betrayed the terrible dejection of the poor girl. 

"Great God!" she said, "what must I do?"

A passing smile appeared on the face of M. De Brevan; and he answered inhis most persuasive manner, --

"Will you permit me to offer you some advice, madam?"

"Alas, sir! I beg you to do so for Heaven's sake. "

"Well, this is the only plan that seems to me feasible. To-morrowmorning I will rent in a quiet house a suitable lodging, less thanmodest, a little chamber. You will move into it, and await there yourcoming of age, or Daniel's return. No detective will ever think ofseeking the daughter of Count Ville-Handry in a poor needlewoman'sgarret. "

"And I am to stay there alone, forsaken and lost?"

"It is a sacrifice which it seems to me you have to make for safety'ssake. "

She said nothing, weighing the two alternatives, --to remain in thehouse, or to accept M. De Brevan's proposition. After a minute shesaid, --

"I will follow your advice, sir; only"--She was evidently painfullyembarrassed, and covered with blushes. 

"You see, " she said, after long hesitation, "all this will cost money. Formerly I used to have always a couple of hundred dollars in my drawerssomewhere; but now"--

"Madam, " broke in M. De Brevan, "madam, is not my whole fortune entirelyat your disposal?"

"To be sure, I have my jewels; and they are quite valuable. "

"For that very reason you ought to be careful not to take them with you. We must guard against every thing. We may fail. They may discovermy share in the attempt; and who knows what charges they would raiseagainst me?"

His apprehension alone betrayed the character of the man; and still itdid not enlighten Henrietta. 

"Well, prepare every thing as you think best, sir, " she said sadly. "Irely entirely upon your friendship, your devotion, and your honor. "

M. De Brevan had a slight attack of coughing, which prevented him fromanswering at first. Then, finding that Henrietta was bent upon escaping, he tried to devise the means. 

Henrietta proposed that they should wait for a night when the countwould take the countess to a ball. She might then slip into the garden, and climb the wall. But the attempt seemed to be too dangerous in M. DeBrevan's eyes. He said, --

"I think I see something better. Count Ville-Handry is going soon togive a great party?"

"The day after to-morrow, Thursday. "

"All right. On Thursday, madam, you will complain early in the morningalready, of a bad headache, and you will send for the doctor. He willprescribe something, I dare say, which you will not take; but they willthink you are sick, and they will watch you less carefully. At night, however, towards ten o'clock, you will come down and conceal yourself atthe foot of the back-stairs, in the corner of the courtyard. You can dothat, I presume?"

"Very easily, sir. "

"In that case all will be right. I will be here with a carriage at teno'clock precisely. My coachman, whom I will instruct beforehand, insteadof stopping at the great entrance, will pretend to go amiss, and stopjust at the foot of the staircase. I will jump out; and you, you willswiftly jump into the carriage. "

"Yes, that also can be done. "

"As the curtains will be down, no one will see you. The carriage willdrive out again, and wait for me outside; and ten minutes later I shallhave joined you. "

The plan being adopted, as every thing depended upon punctuality, M. DeBrevan regulated his watch by Henrietta's; and then, rising, he said, --

"We have already conversed longer than we ought to have done inprudence. I shall not speak to you again to-night. Till Thursday. "

And with sinking voice, she said, --

"Till Thursday. "

XVII. 

By this one word Henrietta sealed her destiny; and she knew it. She wasfully aware of the terrible rashness of her plan. A voice had calledto her, from her innermost heart, that her honor, her life, and all herearthly hopes, had thus been staked upon one card. She foresaw clearlywhat the world would say the day after her flight. She would be lost, and could hope for rehabilitation only when Daniel returned. 

If she could only have been as sure of the heart of her chosen one asshe had formerly been! But the cunning innuendoes of the countess, andthe impudent asseverations of Sir Thorn, had done their work, and shakenher faith. Daniel had been absent for nearly a year now, and during allthat time she had written to him every month; but she had receivedfrom him only two letters through M. De Brevan, --and what letters! Verypolite, very cold, and almost without a word of hope. 

If Daniel upon his return should abandon her!

And still, the more she reflected with all that lucidity with which theapproach of a great crisis inspired her, the more she became impressedwith the absolute necessity of flight. Yes, she must face unknowndangers, but only in order to escape from dangers which she knew but toowell. She was relying upon a man who was almost a stranger to her; butwas not this the only way to escape from the insults of a wretch who hadbecome the boon companion, the friend, and the counsellor of her father?Finally, she sacrificed her reputation, that is, the appearance ofhonor; but she saved the reality, honor itself. 

Ah, it was hard! As long as the day lasted on Wednesday, she waswandering about, pale as a ghost, all over the vast palace. She badefarewell to this beloved house, full of souvenirs of eighteen years inwhich she had played as a child, where Daniel's voice had caused herheart to beat loud and fast, and where her sainted mother had died. Andin the evening, at table, big tears were rolling down her cheeks as shewatched the stupidly-triumphant serenity of her father. 

The next day, however, Thursday, Henrietta complained, as was agreedupon, of a violent headache; and the doctor was sent for. He found herin a violent fever, and ordered her to keep her bed. He little knew thathe was thus restoring the poor girl to liberty. As soon as he had left, she rose; and, like a dying person who makes all her last dispositions, she hastened to put every thing in order in her drawers, puttingtogether what she meant to keep, and burning what she wished to keepfrom the curiosity of the countess and her accomplices. 

M. De Brevan had recommended her not to take her jewels. She left them, therefore, with the exception of such as she wore every day, openlydisplayed on a _chiffonnier_. The manner of her escape forbade hertaking much baggage; and still some linen was indispensable. Uponreflection it did not seem to her inexpedient to take a small carpet-bag, which her mother had given her, and which contained a dressing-case, all the articles in which were of solid gold and of marvellouslyfine workmanship. When her preparations were complete, she wrote to herfather a long letter, in which she explained fully the motives of herdesperate resolution. 

Then she waited. Night had fallen long since; and the last preparationsfor a princely entertainment filled the palace with noise and movement. She could hear the hasty steps of busy servants, the loud orders ofbutlers and stewards, the hammer of upholsterers who gave here and therea final touch. 

Soon there came the rolling of wheels on the fine gravel in the court-yard, and the arrival of the first guests. 

Henceforth it was for Henrietta only a question of minutes; and shecounted them by her watch with a terrible beating of her heart. At lastthe hands marked a quarter before ten. Acting almost automatically, sherose, threw an immense cashmere shawl over her shoulders; and, takingher little bag in her hand, she escaped from her room, and slipped alongthe passages to the servants' stairs. 

She went on tiptoe, holding her breath, eye and ear on the watch, readyat the smallest noise to run back, or to rush into the first open room. Thus she got down without difficulty, reached the dark hall at the footof the staircase; and there in the shade, seated on her little bag, she waited, out of breath, her hair moist with a cold perspiration, herteeth clattering in her mouth from fear. At last it struck ten o'clock;and the vibration of the bell could still be heard, when M. De Brevan's_coupe_ stopped at the door. 

His coachman was certainly a skilful driver. Pretending to have lostthe control of his horse, he made it turn round, and forced it back withsuch admirable awkwardness, that the carriage came close up to the wall, and the right hand door was precisely in the face of the dark littlehall in which Henrietta was standing. As quick as lightning M. De Brevanjumped out. Henrietta rushed forward. Nobody saw any thing. 

A moment later the carriage slowly drove out of the court-yard of thepalace of Count Ville-Handry, and stopped at some little distance. 

It was done. In leaving her father's house, Miss Ville-Handry had brokenwith all the established laws of society. She was at the mercy now ofwhat might follow; and, according as events might turn out favorable orunfavorable, she was saved or lost. But she did not think of that. Asthe danger of being surprised passed away, the feverish excitement thathad kept her up so far, also subsided, and she was lying, undone, on thecushions, when the door suddenly opened, and a man appeared. It was M. De Brevan. 

"Well, madam, " he cried with a strangely embarrassed voice, "we haveconquered. I have just presented my respects to the Countess Sarah andher worthy companions; I have shaken hands with Count Ville-Handry; andno one has the shadow of a suspicion. " And, as Henrietta said nothing, he added, --

"Now I think we ought to lose no time; for I must show myself again atthe ball as soon as possible. Your lodgings are ready for you, madam;and I am going, with your leave, to drive you there. "

She raised herself, and said, with a great effort, --

"Do so, sir!"

M. De Brevan had already jumped into the carriage, which started at fullgallop; and, while they were driving along, he explained to Henriettahow she would have to conduct herself in the house in which he hadengaged a lodging for her. He had spoken of her, he said, as of one ofhis relatives from the provinces, who had suffered a reverse of fortune, and who had come to Paris in the hope of finding here some way to earnher living. 

"Remember this romance, madam, " he begged her, "and let your words andactions be in conformity with it. And especially be careful never toutter my name or your father's. Remember that you are still underage, that you will be searched for anxiously, and that the slightestindiscretion may put them upon your traces. "

Then, as she still kept silent, weeping, he wanted to take her hand, andthus noticed the little bag which she had taken. 

"What is that?" he asked, in a tone, which, under its affectedgentleness, betrayed no small dissatisfaction. 

"Some indispensable articles. "

"Ah! you did not after all take your jewels, madam?"

"No, certainly not, sir!"

Still this persistency on the part of M. De Brevan began to strike heras odd; and she would have betrayed her surprise, if the carriage hadnot at that moment stopped suddenly before No. 23 Water Street. 

"Here we are, madam, " said M. De Brevan. 

And, lightly jumping down, he rang the bell at the door, which openedimmediately. The room of the concierge was still light. M. De Brevanwalked straight up to it, and opened the door like a man who is at homein a house. 

"It is I, " he said. 

A man and a woman, the concierge and his wife, who had been dozing, hernose in a paper, started up suddenly. 

"Monsieur Maxime!" they said with one voice. 

"I bring, " said M. De Brevan, "my young kinswoman, of whom I told you, Miss Henrietta. "

If Henrietta had had the slightest knowledge of Parisian customs, shewould have guessed from the bows of the concierge, and the courtesies ofhis wife, how liberally they had been rewarded in advance. 

"The young lady's room is quite ready, " said the man. 

"My husband has arranged every thing himself, " broke in his wife; "itwas no trifle, after the papering had been done. And I--I made a finefire there as early as five o'clock, to take out the dampness. "

"Let us go up then, " said Brevan. 

The concierge and his wife, however, were economical people; and the gason the stairs had long since been put out. 

"Give me a candlestick, Chevassat, " said the woman to her husband. 

And with her lighted candle she went ahead, lighting M. De Brevan andHenrietta, and stopping at every landing to praise the neatness of thehouse. At last, in the fifth story, at the entrance to a dark passage, she opened a door, and said, --

"Here we are! The young lady will see how nice it is. "

It might possibly have been nice in her eyes; but Henrietta, accustomedto the splendor of her father's palace, could not conceal a gesture ofdisgust. This more than modest chamber looked to her like a garret suchas she would not have permitted the least of her maids to occupy athome. 

But never mind! She went in bravely, putting her travelling-bag ona bureau, and taking off her shawl, as if to take possession of thelodging. But her first impression had not escaped M. De Brevan. He drewher into the passage while the woman was stirring the fire, and said ina low voice, --

"It is a terrible room; but prudence induced me to choose it. "

"I like it as it is, sir. "

"You will want a great many things, no doubt; but we will see to thatto-morrow. To-night I must leave you: you know it is all important thatI should be seen again at your father's house. "

"You are quite right; sir, go, make haste!"

Still he did not wish to go without having once more recommended his"young kinswoman" to Mrs. Chevassat. He only left when she had over andover again assured him that there was nothing more to be done; and thenthe woman also went down. 

The terrible emotions which had shaken and undermined Henrietta duringthe last forty-eight hours were followed now by a feeling of intenseastonishment at what she had done, at the irrevocable step she hadtaken. Her quiet life had been interrupted by an event which to herappeared more stupendous than if a mountain had been moved. Standingby the mantle-piece, she looked at her pale face in the littlelooking-glass, and said to herself, --

"Is that myself, my own self?"

Yes, it was she herself, the only daughter of the great Count Ville-Handry, here in a strange house, in a wretched garret-room, which shecalled her own. It was she, yesterday still surrounded by princelysplendor, waited on by an army of servants, now in want of almost everything, and having for her only servant the old woman to whom M. DeBrevan had recommended her. 

Was this possible? She could hardly believe it herself. Still she feltno repentance at what she had done. She could not remain any longerin her father's house where she was exposed to the vilest insults fromeverybody. Could she have stayed any longer?

"But what is the use, " she said to herself, "of thinking of what ispast? I must not allow myself to think of it; I must shake off thisheaviness. "

And, to occupy her mind, she rose and went about to explore her newhome, and to examine all it contained. It was one of those lodgingsabout which the owners of houses rarely trouble themselves, and wherethey never make the smallest repairs, because they are always sure ofrenting them out just as they are. The floor, laid in bricks, was goingto pieces; and a number of bricks were loose, and shaking in theirlayers of cement. The ceiling was cracked, and fell off in scales; whileall along the walls it was blackened by flaring tallow-candles. Thepapering, a greasy, dirty gray paper, preserved the fingermarks of allthe previous occupants of the room from the time it had first been hung. The furniture, also, was in keeping with the room, --a walnut bedsteadwith faded calico curtains, a chest of drawers, a table, two chairs, anda miserable arm-chair; that was all. 

A short curtain hung before the window. By the side of the bed was alittle strip of carpeting; and on the mantlepiece a zinc clock betweentwo blue glass vases. Nothing else!

How could M. De Brevan ever have selected such a room, such a hole?Henrietta could not comprehend it. He had told her, and she had believedhim, that they must use extreme caution. But would she have been anymore compromised, or in greater danger of being discovered by theCountess Sarah, if they had papared the room anew, put a simple feltcarpet on the floor, and furnished the room a little more decently?

Still she did not conceive any suspicion even yet. She thought itmattered very little where and how she was lodged. She hoped it was, after all, only for a short time, and consoled herself with the thoughtthat a cell in a convent would have been worse still. And any thing wasbetter than her father's house. 

"At least, " she said, "I shall be quiet and undisturbed here. "

Perhaps she was to be morally quiet; for as to any other peace, she wassoon to be taught differently. Accustomed to the profound stillnessof the immense rooms in her father's palace, Henrietta had no idea, ofcourse, of the incessant movement that goes on in the upper storiesof these Paris lodging-houses, which contain the population of a wholevillage, and where the tenants, separated from each other by thinpartition-walls, live, so to say, all in public. 

Sleep, under such circumstances, becomes possible only afterlong experience; and the poor girl had to pay very dear for herapprenticeship. It was past four o'clock before she could fall asleep, overcome by fatigue; and then it was so heavy a sleep, that she wasnot aroused by the stir in the whole house as day broke. It was broaddaylight, hence, when she awoke; and a pale sun-ray was gliding into theroom through the torn curtain. The zinc clock pointed at twelve o'clock. She rose and dressed hastily. 

Yesterday, when she rose, she rang her bell, and her maid came inpromptly, made a fire, brought her her slippers, and threw over hershoulders a warm, wadded dressing-wrapper. But to-day!

This thought carried her back to her father's house. What were theydoing there at this hour? Her escape was certainly known by this time. No doubt they had sent the servants out in all directions. Her father, most probably, had gone to call in the aid of the police. She feltalmost happy at the idea of being so safely concealed; and lookingaround her chamber, which appeared even more wretched by daylight thanlast night, she said, --

"No, they will never think of looking for me here!"

In the meantime she had discovered a small supply of wood near thefireplace; and, as it was cold, she was busy making a fire, whensomebody knocked at her door. She opened; and Mrs. Chevassat, the wifeof the concierge appeared. 

"It is I, my pretty young lady, " she said as she entered. "Not seeingyou come down, I said to myself, 'I must go up to look after her. ' Andhave you slept well?"

"Very well, madam, thank you!"

"Now, that's right. And how is your appetite? For that was what I cameup for. Don't you think you might eat a little something?"

Henrietta not only thought of it; but she was very hungry. For thereare no events and no adventures, no excitements and no sorrows, whichprevent us from getting hungry; the tyranny of our physical wants isstronger than any thing else. 

"I would be obliged to you, madam, " she said, "if you would bring me upsome breakfast. "

"If I would! As often as you desire, my pretty young lady. Just give methe time to boil an egg, and to roast a cutlet, and I'll be up again. "

Ordinarily sour-tempered, and as bitter as wormwood, Mrs. Chevassat haddisplayed all the amiability of which she was capable, hiding undera veil of tender sympathy the annoying eagerness of her eyes. Herhypocrisy was all wasted. The efforts she made were too manifest not toarouse the very worst suspicions. 

"I am sure, " thought Henrietta, "she is a bad woman. "

Her suspicions were only increased when the worthy woman reappeared, bringing her breakfast, and setting it out on a little table before thefire, with all kinds of hideous compliments. 

"You'll see how very well every thing is cooked, miss, " she said. 

Then, while Henrietta was eating, she sat down on a chair near thedoor, and commenced talking, without ever stopping. To hear her, thenew tenant ought to thank her guardian angel who had brought her to thischarming house, No. 23 Water Street, where there was such a conciergewith such a wife!--he, the best of men; she, a real treasure ofkindness, gentleness, and, above all, discretion. 

"Quite an exceptional house, " she added, "as far as the tenants areconcerned. They are all people of notoriously high standing, from thewealthy old ladies in the best story to Papa Ravinet in the fourthstory, and not excepting the young ladies who live in the small rooms inthe back building. "

Then, having passed them all in review, she began praising M. De Brevan, whom she always called M. Maxime. She declared that he had won her heartfrom the beginning, when he had first come to the house, day beforeyesterday, to engage the room. She had never seen a more perfectgentleman, so kind, so polite, and so liberal! With her greatexperience, she had at once recognized in him one of those men whoseem to be born expressly for the purpose of inspiring the most violentpassions, and of securing the most lasting attachments. 

Besides, she added with a hideous smile, she was sure of his deepinterest in her pretty new tenant; and she was so well convinced ofthis, that she would be happy to devote herself to her service, evenwithout any prospect of payment. 

This did not prevent her from saying to Henrietta, as soon as she hadfinished her breakfast, --

"You owe me two francs, miss; and, if you would like it, I can board youfor five francs a day. "

Thereupon she went into a lively discussion to show that this would beon her part a mere act of kindness, because, considering how dear everything was, she would most assuredly lose. 

But Henrietta stopped her. Drawing from her purse a twenty-franc piece, she said, --

"Make yourself paid, madam. "

This was evidently not what the estimable woman expected; for she drewback with an air of offended dignity, and protested, --

"What do you take me to be, miss? Do you think me capable of asking forpayment?"

And, shrugging her shoulders, she added, --

"Besides, does not all that regards your expenses concern M. Maxime?"

Thereupon she quickly folded the napkin, took the plates, anddisappeared. Henrietta did not know what to think of it. She could notdoubt that this Megsera pursued some mysterious aim with all her foolishtalk; but she could not possibly guess what that aim could be. And stillthat was not all that kept her thoughts busy. What frightened hermost of all was the feeling that she was evidently altogether at M. De Brevan's mercy. All her possessions amounted to about two hundredfrancs. She was in want of every thing, of the most indispensablearticles: she had not another dress, nor another petticoat. Why had notM. De Brevan thought of that beforehand? Was he waiting for her to tellhim of her distress, and to ask him for money? She could not think so, and she attributed his neglect to his excitement, thinking that he wouldno doubt come soon to ask how she was, and place himself at her service. 

But the day passed away slowly, and night came; but he did not appear. What did this mean? What unforeseen event could have happened?what misfortune could have befallen him? Torn by a thousand wildapprehensions, Henrietta was more than once on the point of going to hishouse. 

It was not before two o'clock on the next day that he appeared at last, affecting an easy air, but evidently very much embarrassed. If he didnot come the night before, he said, it was because he was sure theCountess Sarah had him watched. The flight of the daughter of CountVille-Handry was known all over Paris, and he was suspected of havingaided and abetted her: so they had told him, he said, at his club. Healso added that it would be imprudent in him to stay longer; and heleft again, without having said a word to Henrietta, and without havingapparently noticed her destitution. 

And thus, for three days, he only came, to disappear almost instantly. 

He always came painfully embarrassed, as if he had something veryimportant to tell her; then his brow clouded over; and he went awaysuddenly, without having said any thing. 

Henrietta, tortured by terrible doubts, felt unable to endure thisatrocious uncertainty any longer. She determined to force an explanationwhen, on the fourth day, M. De Brevan came in, evidently under theinfluence of some terrible determination. As soon as he had entered, helocked the door, and said in a hoarse voice, --

"I must speak to you, madam, yes, I must!"

He was deadly pale; his white lips trembled; and his eyes shone witha fearful light, like those of a man who might have sought courage instrong drink. 

"I am ready to listen, " replied the poor girl, all trembling. 

He hesitated again for a moment; then overcoming his reluctance, apparently by a great effort, he said, --

"Well, I wish to ask you if you have ever suspected what my real reasonswere for assisting you to escape?"

"I think, sir, you have acted from kind pity for me, and also fromfriendship for M. Daniel Champcey. "

"No! You are entirely mistaken. "

She drew back instinctively, uttering only a low, "Ah!"

Pale as he had been, M. De Brevan had become crimson. 

"Have you really noticed nothing? Are you really not aware that I loveyou?"

She could understand any thing but this, the unfortunate girl; any thingbut such infamy, such an incredible insult! M. De Brevan must be eitherdrunk or mad. 

"Leave me, sir!" she said peremptorily, but with a voice trembling withindignation. 

But he advanced towards her with open arms, and went on, --

"Yes, I love you madly, and for a long time, --ever since the first day Isaw you. "

Henrietta, however, had swiftly moved aside, and opened the window. 

"If you advance another step, I shall cry for help. "

He stopped, and, changing his tone, said to her, --

"Ah! You refuse? Well, what are you hoping for? For Daniel's return?Don't you know that he loves Sarah?"

"Ah! you abuse my forlorn condition infamously!" broke in the younggirl. And, as he still insisted, she added, --

"Why don't you go, coward? Why don't you go, wretched man? Must I call?"

He was frightened, backed to the door, and half opened it; then hesaid, --

"You refuse me to-day; but, before the month is over, you will beg me tocome to you. You are ruined; and I alone can rescue you. "

XVIII. 

At last, then, the truth had come out!

Overcome with horror, her hair standing at an end, and shaken by nervousspasms, poor Henrietta was trying to measure the depth of the abyss intowhich she had thrown herself. 

Voluntarily, and with the simplicity of a child, she had walked into thepit which had been dug for her. But who, in her place, would not havetrusted? Who could have conceived such an idea? Who could have suspectedsuch monstrous rascality?

Ah! Now she understood but too well all the mysterious movements thathad so puzzled her in M. De Brevan. She saw how profound had been hiscalculations when he recommended her so urgently not to take her jewelswith her while escaping from her father's house, nor any objectof value; for, if she had had her jewelry, she would have been inpossession of a small fortune; she would have been independent, andabove want, at least for a couple of years. 

But M. De Brevan wanted her to have nothing. He knew, the coward! withwhat crushing contempt she would reject his first proposals; but heflattered himself with the hope that isolation, fear, destitution wouldat last reduce her to submission, and enable him--

"It is too horrible, " repeated the poor girl, --"too horrible!"

And this man had been Daniel's friend! And it was he to whom Daniel, at the moment of sailing, had intrusted his betrothed! What atrociousdeception! M. Thomas Elgin was no doubt a formidable bandit, faithlessand unscrupulous; but he was known as such: he was known to be capableof any thing, and thus people were on their guard. But this man!--ah, athousand times meaner and viler!--he had watched for a whole year, withsmiling face, for the hour of treachery; he had prepared a hideous crimeunder the veil of the noblest friendship!

Henrietta thought she could divine what was the traitor's final aim. In obtaining possession of her, he no doubt thought he would secure tohimself a large portion of Count Ville-Handry's immense fortune. 

And hence, she continued in her meditations, hence the hatred betweenSir Thorn and M. De Brevan. They both coveted the same thing; and eachone trembled lest the other should first get hold of the treasure whichhe wanted to secure. The idea that the new countess was in complicitywith M. De Brevan did not enter Henrietta's mind. On the contrary, shethought they were enemies, and divided from each other by separate andopposite interests. 

"Ah!" she said to herself, "they have one feeling, at all events, incommon; and that is hatred against me. "

A few months ago, so fearful and so sudden a catastrophe would havecrushed Henrietta, in all probability. But she had endured so many blowsduring the past year, that she bore this also; for it is a fact that thehuman heart learns to bear grief as the body learns to endure fatigue. Moreover, she called in to her assistance a light shining high above allthis terrible darkness, --the remembrance of Daniel. 

She had doubted him for an instant; but her faith had, after all, remained intact and perfect. Her reason told her, that, if he had reallyloved Sarah Brandon, her enemies, M. Elgin and M. De Brevan, would nothave taken such pains to make her believe it. She thought, therefore, she was quite certain that he would return to her with his heart devotedto her as when he left her. 

But, great God! to think of the grief and the rage of this man, when heshould hear how wickedly and cowardly he had been betrayed by the manwhom he called his friend! He would know how to restore the count'sdaughter to her proper position, and how to avenge her. 

"And I shall wait for him, " she said, her teeth firmly set, --"I shallwait for him!"

How? She did not ask herself that question; for she was yet in thatfirst stage of enthusiasm, when we are full of heroic resolves which donot allow us to see the obstacles that are to be overcome. But shesoon learned to know the first difficulties in her way, thanks to DameChevassat, who brought her her dinner as the clock struck six, accordingto the agreement they had made. 

The estimable lady had assumed a deeply grieved expression; you mighthave sworn she had tears in her eyes. In her sweetest voice, sheasked:--

"Well, well, my beautiful young lady; so you have quarrelled with ourdear M. Maxime?"

Henrietta was so sure of the uselessness of replying, and so fearful ofnew dangers, that she simply replied, --

"Yes, madam. "

"I was afraid of it, " replied the woman, "just from seeing him come downthe stairs with a face as long as that. You see, he is in love with you, that kind young man; and you may believe me when I tell you so, for Iknow what men are. "

She expected an answer; for generally her eloquence was very effectivewith her tenants. But, as no reply came, she went on, --

"We must hope that the trouble will blow over. "

"No!"

Looking at Mrs. Chevassat, one would have thought she was stunned. 

"How savage you are!" she exclaimed at last. "Well, it is your lookout. Only I should like to know what you mean to do?"

"About what?"

"Why, about your board. "

"I shall find the means, madam, you may be sure. "

The old woman, however, who knew from experience what that cruel word, "living, " sometimes means with poor forsaken girls, shook her headseriously, and answered, --

"So much the better; so much the better! Only I know you owe a good dealof money. "

"Owe?"

"Why, yes! The furniture here has never been paid for. "

"What? The furniture"--

"Of course, M. Maxime was going to pay for it; he has told me so. But ifyou fall out in this way--you understand, don't you?"

She hardly did understand such fearful infamy. Still Henrietta did notshow her indignation and surprise. She asked, --

"What did the furniture of this room cost? do you know?"

"I don't know. Something like five or six hundred francs, things are sodear now!" The whole was probably not worth a hundred and fifty or twohundred francs. 

"Very well. I'll pay, " said Henrietta. "The man will give me forty-eight hours' time, I presume?"

"Oh, certainly!"

As the poor girl was now quite sure that this honeyed Megsera wasemployed by M. De Brevan to watch her, she affected a perfectly calmair. When she had finished her dinner, she even insisted upon payingon the spot fifty francs, which she owed for the last few days, and forsome small purchases. But, when the old woman was gone, she sank into achair, and said, --

"I am lost!"

There was, in fact, no refuge for her, no help to be expected. 

Should she return to her father, and implore the pity of his wife?Ah! death itself would be more tolerable than such a humiliation. Andbesides, in escaping from M. De Brevan, would she not fall into thehands of M. Elgin?

Should she seek assistance at the hands of some of the old familyfriends? But which?

In greater distress than the shipwrecked man who in vain examines theblank horizon, she looked around for some one to help her. She forcedher mind to recall all the people she had ever known. Alas! she knew, so to say, nobody. Since her mother had died, and she had been livingalone, no one seemed to have remembered her, unless for the purpose ofcalumniating her. 

Her only friends, the only ones who had made her cause their own, the Duke and the Duchess of Champdoce, were in Italy, as she had beenassured. 

"I can count upon nobody but myself, " she repeated, --"myself, myself!"

Then rousing herself, she said, her heart swelling with emotion, --

"But never mind! I shall be saved!"

Her safety depended upon one single point: if she could manage to livetill she came of age, or till Daniel returned, all was right. 

"Is it really so hard to live?" she thought. "The daughters of poorpeople, who are as completely forsaken as I am, nevertheless live. Whyshould not I live also?"

Why?

Because the children of poor people have served, so to say, from thecradle, an apprenticeship of poverty, --because they are not afraid of aday without work, or a day without bread, --because cruel experience hasarmed them for the struggle, --because, in fine, they know life, and theyknow Paris, --because their industry is adapted to their wants, andthey have an innate capacity to obtain some advantage from every thing, thanks to their smartness, their enterprise, and their energy. 

But Count Ville-Handry's only daughter--the heiress of many millions, brought up, so to say, in a hothouse, according to the stupid custom ofmodern society--knew nothing at all of life, of its bitter realities, its struggles, and its sufferings. She had nothing but courage. 

"That is enough, " she said to herself. "What we will do, we can do. "

Thus resolved to seek aid from no one, she set to work examining hercondition and her resources. 

As to objects of any value, she owned the cashmere which she hadwrapped around her when she fled, the dressing-case in her mother'stravelling-bag, a brooch, a watch, a pair of pretty ear-rings, and, lastly, two rings, which by some lucky accident she had forgotten totake off, one of which was of considerable value. All this, she thought, must have cost, at least, eight or nine thousand francs; but for howmuch would it sell? since she was resolved to sell it. This was thequestion on which her whole future depended. 

But how could she dispose of these things? She wanted to have it allsettled, so as to get rid of this sense of uncertainty; she wanted, especially, to pay for the scanty, wretched furniture in her chamber. Whom could she ask to help her? For nothing in the world would she haveconfided in Mrs. Chevassat; for her instincts told her, that, if sheonce let that terrible woman see what were her necessities, she wouldbe bound hand and foot to her. She was thinking it out, when the ideaof the pawnbroker occurred to her. She had heard such men spoken of; butshe only knew that they kept places where poor people could get moneyupon depositing a pledge. 

"That is the place I must go to, " Henrietta said to herself. 

But how was she to find one?

"Well, I'll find it some way, " she said. 

So she went down, to Mrs. Chevassat's great astonishment, but withoutanswering her questions, where she was going to in such a hurry. 

Having turned at the first corner, she went on at haphazard, walkingquite rapidly, and not minding the passers-by, entirely occupied inlooking at the houses and the sign-boards. But for more than an hour shewandered thus through all the small streets and alleys in those suburbs;she found nothing, and it was getting dark. 

"And still I won't go home till I have found it, " she said to herselfwrathfully. 

This resolution gave her courage to go up to a policeman, and, crimsonlike a poppy, to ask him, --

"Will you be so kind, sir, as to tell me a pawnbroker's shop?"

The man looked with pity at the young girl, whose whole person exhaleda perfume of distinction and of candor, asking himself, perhaps, whatterrible misfortune could have reduced a lady like her to such a step;then he answered with a sigh, --

"There, madam, at the corner of the first street on the right, you willfind a loan office. "

"Loan office?" These words suggested to Henrietta no clear idea. But itmattered not. She went on in feverish haste, recognized the house thathad been pointed out to her, went up stairs, and, pushing open a door, found herself in a large room, where some twenty people were standingabout, waiting. 

On the right hand three or four clerks, shut off from the public by arailing breast-high, were writing down the names of the depositors, andcounting out money. Far back, a large opening was visible, where anotherclerk appeared from time to time, to take in the articles that werepawned. After waiting for five minutes, and without asking a questionfrom anybody, Henrietta understood the whole process. Trembling as ifshe had committed a crime, she went to the opening behind, and putupon the ledge one of her rings, the most valuable of the two. Then shewaited, not daring to look up; for it seemed to her as if all eyes wereupon her. 

"One diamond ring!" cried the clerk. "Nine hundred francs. Whose is it?"

The large amount caused all to look around; and a big woman, but toowell dressed, and with a very impudent expression, said, --

"Oh, oh! The damsel dresses well!"

Crimson with shame, Henrietta had stepped up. She whispered, --

"It is my ring, sir. "

The clerk looked at her, and then asked quite gently, --

"You have your papers?"

"Papers? What for?"

"The papers that establish your identity. Your passport, a receipt forrent, or any thing. "

The whole company laughed at the ignorance of this girl. She stammeredout, --

"I have no such papers, sir. "

"Then we can make no advance. "

One more hope, her last, vanished thus. She held out her hand, saying, --

"Please give me back my ring. "

But the clerk now laughed, and replied, --

"No, no, my dear! that can't be done. You shall have it back when youbring me the papers, or when you come accompanied by two merchants whoare known to us. "

"But, sir"--

"That is so. "

And, finding that he had lost time enough, he went on, --

"One velvet cloak! Thirty francs. Whose is it?"

Henrietta was rushing out, and down the stairs, pursued, as it seemed toher, by the cries of the crowd. How that clerk had looked at her! Did hethink she had stolen the ring? And what was to become of it? The policewould inquire; they would trace her out; and she would be carried backto her father's house, and given up to Sir Thorn. She could hardlykeep up until she reached Water Street; and there fatigue, fright, and excitement made her forget her resolutions. She confessed herdiscomfiture to Mrs. Chevassat. 

The honest woman tried to look as grave as an attorney whom a greatclient consults, who has unwittingly stirred up a wasps' nest; and, whenher tenant had finished, she said in a voice apparently half drowned intears, --

"Poor little kitten, poor little innocent kitten!"

But, if she succeeded in giving to her face an expression of sinceresympathy, the greedy look in her eyes betrayed but too clearly herimmense satisfaction at seeing Henrietta at last at her feet. 

"After all, " she said, "you are prodigiously lucky in your misfortunes;for you are too imprudent in all conscience. "

And, as the poor girl was not a little astonished at this, she wenton, --

"Yes, you ran a great risk; and I can easily prove it to you. Who areyou? Well, you need not turn pale that way: I don't ask any questions. But after all, if you carry your jewels yourself to the 'Uncle, ' you go, so to say, and rush right into the lion's mouth. If they had arrestedyou when they saw you had no papers; if they had carried you before amagistrate--eh? Ah! my beautiful friend, you would have fared prettybadly, I dare say. "

And then, changing her tone, she began scolding her beautiful young ladyfor having concealed her troubles from her. That was wrong; that hurther feelings. Why had she given her money last night? Did she ask formoney? Did she look like such a terrible creditor? She knew, God bethanked! what life was here below, and that we are bound to help oneanother. To be sure, there was that furniture dealer, who must be paid;but she would have been quite willing to make him wait; and why shouldhe not? She had got very different people to wait! Why, only last week, she had sent one of those men away, and a dressmaker into the bargain, who came to levy upon one of her tenants in the back building, --the verynicest, and prettiest, and best of them all. 

Thus she discoursed and discoursed with amazing volubility, till atlast, when she thought she had made a sufficiently strong impression onher "poor little pussy-cat, " she said, --

"But one can easily see, my dear young lady, that you are a mere child. Sell your poor little jewels! Why, that is murder, as long as there issome one at hand quite ready to do any thing for you. "

At this sudden, but not altogether unexpected attack, Henriettatrembled. 

"For I am sure, " continued Mrs. Chevassat, "if it were only to beagreeable to you, he would give one of his arms, this poor M. Maxime. "

Henrietta looked so peremptorily at her, that the worthy lady seemed tobe quite disconcerted. 

"I forbid you, " cried the young lady, with a voice trembling withindignation, --"I forbid you positively ever to mention his name!"

The woman shrugged her shoulders. 

"As you like it, " she answered. 

And then, ready to change the conversation, she added, --

"Well, then, let us return to your ring. What _do_ you propose to do?"

"That is exactly why I came to you, " replied Henrietta. "I do not knowwhat is to be done in such a case. "

Mrs. Chevassat smiled, very much pleased. 

"And you did very well to come to us, " she said. 

"Chevassat will go, take the charcoal-dealer and the grocer next doorwith him; and before going to bed you will have your money, I promiseyou! You see he understands pretty well how to make the clerks do theirduty, my Chevassat. "

That evening the excellent man really condescended to go up stairs, andto bring Henrietta himself eight hundred and ninety-five francs. 

He did not bring the whole nine hundred francs, he said; for, havingput his two neighbors to some inconvenience, he was bound, accordingto established usage, to invite them to take something. For himself, he had, of course, kept nothing, --oh, nothing at all! He could take hisoath upon that; for he preferred by far leaving that little matter tothe beautiful young lady's liberality. 

"Here are ten francs, " said Henrietta curtly, in order to make an end tohis endless talk. 

Thus, with the few gold-pieces which she had found in her purse, thepoor girl had a capital of about a thousand francs in hand. How manydays, how many months, this sum would have secured to her, if thefurniture-dealer had not been there with his bill! He did not fail topresent himself next day, accompanied by Mrs. Chevassat. He asked forfive hundred and seventy-nine francs. Such a sum for a few second-handpieces of furniture which adorned that wretched garret! It was a clearswindle, and the impudence so great, that Henrietta was overwhelmed. Butstill she paid. 

When he was gone, she sadly counted from one hand into the otherthe twenty-three gold-pieces that were left, when suddenly a thoughtoccurred to her, that might have saved her, if she had followed it out. 

It was the thought of leaving the house by stealth, of going to thestation of the Orleans Railway, and of taking the first train for thehome of Daniel's aunt. Alas! she was content with writing to her, andremained. 

XIX. 

This inspiration was, moreover, to be the last favor which Providencevouchsafed to Henrietta, --an opportunity which, once allowed to pass, never returns. From that moment she found herself irrevocably insnaredin a net which tightened day by day more around her, and held her ahelpless captive. She had vowed to herself, the unfortunate girl, thatshe would economize her little hoard like the blood in her veins. Buthow could she economize?

She was without every thing. When M. De Brevan had gone to engagethis garret-room, he had thought of nothing; or rather (and such acalculation was quite in keeping with his cold-blooded rascality) he hadtaken his measures so that his victim must soon be in utter destitution. Without any other clothes than those she wore on the night of herflight, she had no linen, no shoes, not a towel even to wipe her hands, unless she borrowed them from her friend down stairs. 

Accustomed as she was to all the comforts of boundless wealth, and toall the refinements of cleanliness, these privations became to her agenuine martyrdom. Thus she spent in a variety of small purchases morethan a hundred and fifty francs. The sum was enormous at a time whenshe could already count the days to the hour when she would be withoutbread. In addition to that she had to pay Mrs. Chevassat five francs aday for her board. Five francs were another enormous sum which troubledher grievously; for she would have been quite willing to live onbread and water. But in that direction she thought no economizing waspossible. 

One evening she had hinted at the necessity of retrenching, when Mrs. Chevassat had shot at her a venomous glance, which pierced her to thevery marrow of her bones. 

"It must be done, " she said to herself. 

In her mind she felt as if the five francs were a kind of daily ransomwhich she paid the estimable concierge's wife for her good-will. Itis true, that, for such a consideration, the terrible woman was allattention for her "poor little pussy-cat;" for thus she had definitelydubbed Henrietta, becoming daily more familiar, and adding this odiousand irritating presumption to all the other tortures of the poor girl. Many a time poor Henrietta had been made so indignant and furious, that she had been on the point of rebelling; but she had never dared, submitting to this familiarity for the same reason for which shepaid her five francs every day. The old woman, taking her silence forconsent, put no longer any restraint upon herself. She declared shecould not comprehend how her "little pussy-cat, " young and pretty as shewas, could consent to live as she did. Was that a life?

Then she always came back to M. Maxime, who continued to call regularlytwice a day, the poor young man!

"And more than that, poor little pussy, " she added, "you will see thatone of these days he will summon courage enough to come and offer you anapology. "

But Henrietta would not believe that. 

"He will never have such consummate impudence, " she thought. 

He had it, nevertheless. One morning, when she had just finishedrighting up her room, somebody knocked discreetly, at her door. Thinkingthat it was Mrs. Chevassat, who brought her her breakfast, she went tothe door and opened it, without asking who was there. And she startedback with amazement and with terror when she recognized M. De Brevan. 

It really looked as if he were making a supreme effort over himself. Hewas deadly pale; his lips trembled; his eyes looked dim and uncertain;and he moved his lips and jaws as if he had gravel in his mouth. 

"I have come, madam, " he said, "to ask if you have reconsidered. "

She made no reply, looking at him with an air of contempt which wouldhave caused a man with some remnant of honor in his heart to flee fromthe spot instantly. But he had, no doubt, armed himself beforehand, against contempt. 

"I know, " he continued, "that my conduct must appear abominable inyour eyes. I have led you into this snare, and I have meanly betrayed afriend's confidence; but I have an excuse. My passion is stronger thanmy will, than my reason. "

"A vile passion for money!"

"You may think so, madam, if you choose. I shall not even attempt toclear myself. That is not what I came for. I came solely for the purposeof enlightening you in regard to your own position, which you do notseem to realize. "

If she had followed her own impulses, Henrietta would have driven thewretch away. But she thought she ought to know his intentions and hisplans. She overcame her disgust, therefore, and remained silent. 

"In the first place, " said M. De Brevan, apparently trying to collecthis thoughts, "bear this in mind, madam. You are ruined in reputation, and ruined through me. All Paris is convinced, by this time, that I haverun away with you; and that I keep you concealed in a charming place, where we enjoy our mutual love; in fact, that you are my mistress. "

He seemed to expect an explosion of wrath. By no means! Henriettaremained motionless like a statue. 

"What would you have?" he went on in a tone of sarcasm. "My coachman hasbeen talking. Two friends of mine, who reached the palace on foot whenI drove up, saw you jump into my _coupe_; and, as if that had not beenenough, that absurd M. Elgin must needs call me out. We had a duel, andI have wounded him. "

The manner in which the young girl shrugged her shoulders showed but tooclearly that she did not believe M. De Brevan. He added, --

"If you doubt it, madam, pray read this, then, at the top of the secondcolumn. "

She took the paper which he offered her, and there she read, --

"Yesterday, in the woods near Vincennes, a duel with swords was foughtbetween M. M. De B---- and one of the most distinguished members of ourAmerican colony. After five minutes' close combat, M. E---- was woundedin the arm. It is said that the sudden and very surprising disappearanceof one of the greatest heiresses of the Faubourg Saint Germain was notforeign to this duel. Lucky M. De B---- is reported to know too much ofthe beautiful young lady's present home for the peace of the family. But surely these lines ought to be more than enough on the subject ofan adventure which will ere long, no doubt, end in a happy and brilliantmarriage. "

"You see, madam, " said M. De Brevan, when he thought Henrietta hadhad time enough to read the article, "you see it is not I who advisemarriage. If you will become my wife, your honor is safe. "

"Ah, sir!"

In that simple utterance there was so much contempt, and such profounddisgust, that M. De Brevan seemed to turn, if possible, whiter thanbefore. 

"Ah! I see you prefer marrying M. Thomas Elgin, " he said. 

She only shrugged her shoulders; but he went on, --

"Oh, do not smile! He or I; you have no other alternative. Sooner orlater you will have to choose. "

"I shall not choose, sir. "

"Oh, just wait till poverty has come! Then you think, perhaps, you willonly need to implore your father to come to your assistance. Do notflatter yourself. Your father has no other will but that of the CountessSarah; and the Countess Sarah will have it so, that you marry SirThorn. "

"I shall not appeal to my father, sir. "

"Then you probably count upon Daniel's return? Ah, believe me! do notindulge in such dreams. I have told you Daniel loves the Countess Sarah;and, even if he did not love her, you have been too publicly disgracedfor him ever to give you his name. But that is nothing yet. Go to thenavy department, and they will tell you that 'The Conquest' is out on acruise of two years more. At the time when Daniel returns, if he returnsat all (which is very far from being certain), you will long since havebecome Mrs. Elgin or Madame de Brevan, unless"--

Henrietta looked at him so fixedly, that he could not bear the glance;and then she said in a deep voice, --

"Unless I die! did you not mean that? Be it so. "

Coldly M. De Brevan bowed, as if he intended to say, --

"Yes, unless you should be dead: that was what I meant. "

Then, opening the door, he added, --

"Let me hope, madam, that this is not your last word. I shall, however, have the honor of calling every week to receive your orders. "

And, bowing, he left the room. 

"What brought him here, the wretch! What does he want of me?"

Thus she questioned herself as soon as she was alone, and the door was'shut. ' And her anguish increased tenfold; for she did not believe aword of the pretexts which M. De Brevan had assigned for his visit. No, she could not admit that he had come to see if she had reflected, northat he really cherished that abominable hope, that misery, hunger, andfear would drive her into his arms. 

"He ought to know me well enough, " she thought with a new access ofwrath, "to be sure that I would prefer death a thousand times. "

There was no doubt in her mind that this step, which had evidentlybeen extremely painful to himself, had become necessary through someall-powerful consideration. But what could that be? By a great effortof mind Henrietta recalled, one by one, all the phrases used by M. De Brevan, in the hope that some word might give her light; but shediscovered nothing. All he had told her as to the consequences of herflight, she had foreseen before she had resolved to escape. He had toldher nothing new, but his duel with Sir Thorn; and, when she consideredthe matter, she thought that, also, quite natural. For did they not bothcovet with equal eagerness the fortune which she would inherit from hermother as soon as she came of age? The antagonism of their interestsexplained, she thought, their hatred; for she was well convinced thatthey hated each other mortally. The idea that Sir Thorn and M. De Brevanunderstood each other, and pursued a common purpose, never entered hermind; and, if it had suggested itself, she would have rejected it asabsurd. 

Must she, then, come to the conclusion that M. De Brevan had really, when he appeared before her, no other aim but to drive her to despair?But why should he do so? what advantage would that be to him? The manwho wants to make a girl his own does not go to work to chill her withterror, and to inspire her with ineffable disgust. Still M. De Brevanhad done this; and therefore he must aim at something different fromthat marriage of which he spoke. 

What was that something? Such abominable things are not done for themere pleasure of doing them, especially if that involves some amount ofdanger. Now, it was very clear, that upon Daniel's return, whether hestill loved Henrietta or not, M. De Brevan would have a terrible accountto give to that brave sailor who had trusted him with the care of hisbetrothed. Did M. De Brevan ever think of that return? Oh, yes! he did;and with secret terror. There was proof of that in one of the phrasesthat had escaped him. 

After having said, "When Daniel returns, " he had added, "if he everreturns, which is by no means sure. "

Why this proviso? Had he any reasons to think that Daniel might perishin this dangerous campaign? Now she remembered, yes, she remembereddistinctly, that M. De Brevan had smiled in a very peculiar way when hehad said these words. And, as she recalled this, her heart sank withinher, and she felt as if she were going to faint. Was he not capable ofanything, the wretched man, who had betrayed him so infamously, --capableeven of arming an assassin?

"Oh, I must warn Daniel!" she exclaimed, "I must warn him, and not losea minute. "

And, although she had written him a long letter only the day before, shewrote again, begging him to be watchful, to mistrust everybody, becausemost assuredly his life was threatened. And this letter she carriedherself to the post-office, convinced as she was that to confide it toMrs. Chevassat would have been the same as to send it to M. De Brevan. 

It was astonishing, however, how the estimable lady seemed to become dayby day more attached to Henrietta, and how expansive and demonstrativeher affections grew. At all hours of the day, and on the most trivialpretexts, she would come up, sit down, and for entire hours entertainher with her intolerable speeches. She did not put any restraint uponherself any longer, but talked "from the bottom of her heart" withher "dear little pussy-cat, " as if she had been her own daughter. The strange doctrines at which she had formerly only hinted, she nowproclaimed without reserve, boasting of an open kind of cynicism, whichbetrayed a terrible moral perversity. It looked as if the horribleMegsera had been deputed by Henrietta's enemies for the special purposeof demoralizing and depraving her, if possible, and to drive her intothe brilliant and easy life of sin in which so many unhappy womenperish. 

Fortunately, in this case, the messenger was ill-chosen. The eloquenceof Mrs. Chevassat, which very likely would have inflamed the imaginationof some poor but ambitious girl, caused nothing but disgust inHenrietta's heart. She had gotten into the habit of thinking of otherthings while the old woman was holding forth; and her noble soul floatedoff to regions where these vulgarities could reach her no more. 

Her life was, nevertheless, a very sad one. She never went out, spendingher days in her chamber, reading, or working at a great embroidery, amasterpiece of patience and taste, which she had undertaken with a fainthope that it might become useful in case of distress. But a new sourceof trouble roused her soon after from this dull monotony. Her moneygrew less and less; and at last the day came when she changed the lastgold-piece of her nine hundred francs. It became urgent to resort oncemore to the pawnbroker; for these were the first days of April, and thehoneyed words of Mrs. Chevassat had given her to understand that she hadbetter get ready to pay on the 8th her rent, which amounted to a hundredfrancs. 

She intrusted therefore to the concierge the remaining ring to bepawned. Calculating from the sum she had received for the first ring, she hoped to obtain for this one, at the very least, five or six hundredfrancs. 

The concierge brought her one hundred and ninety francs. 

At first, she was convinced the man had robbed her; and she gave himto understand that she thought so. But he showed her the receipt in aperfect rage. 

"Look there, " he said, "and remember to whom you are talking!"

On the receipt she read in fact these words: "Advanced, two hundredfrancs. " Convinced of the injustice of her accusations, Henrietta had tomake her apologies, and hardly succeeded by means of a ten-franc-piecein soothing the man's wounded feelings. 

Alas! the poor girl did not know that one is always at liberty to pledgean article only for a given sum, a part of its real value; and she wastoo inexperienced in such matters to notice the reference to that modeof pawning on her receipt. However, it was one of those mishaps for poorHenrietta which cannot be mended, and from which we never recover. Shelost two months' existence, the very time, perhaps, that was needed tillDaniel's return. Still the day when the rent was due came, and she paidher hundred francs. The second day after that, she was once more withoutmoney, and, according to Mrs. Chevassat's elegant expression, forcedto "live on her poor possessions. " But the pawnbroker had too cruellydisappointed her calculations: she would not resort to him again, andrisk a second disappointment. 

This time she thought she would, instead of pawning, sell, her gold-dressing-case; and she requested the obliging lady below to procure hera purchaser. At first Mrs. Chevassat raised a host of objections. 

"To sell such a pretty toy!" she said, "it's murder! Just think, you'llnever see it again. If, on the other hand, you carry it to 'Uncle' youcan take it out again as soon as you have a little money. "

But she lost her pains, she saw and at last consented to bring up a kindof dealer in toilet-articles, an excellent honest man, she declared, inwhom one could put the most absolute confidence. And he really showedhimself worthy of her warm recommendation; for he offered instantly fivehundred francs for the dressing-case, which was not worth much morethan three times as much. Nor was this his last bid. After an hour'sirritating discussions, after having ten times pretended to leave theroom, he drew with many sighs his _portemonnaie_ from its secret home, and counted upon the table the seven hundred francs in gold upon whichHenrietta had stoutly insisted. 

That was enough to pay Mrs. Chevassat for four months' board. 

"But no, " said the poor young girl to herself, "that would bepusillanimous in the highest degree. "

And that very evening she summoned all her courage, and told theformidable woman in a firm tone of voice, that henceforth she would onlytake one meal, dinner. She had chosen this half-way measure in ordernot to avoid a scene, for that she knew she could not hope for, but aregular falling-out. 

Contrary to all expectations, the concierge's wife appeared neithersurprised nor angry. She only shrugged her shoulders as she said, --

"As you like, my 'little pussy-cat. ' Only believe me, it is no useeconomizing in one's eating. "

From the day of this _coup d'etat_, Henrietta went down every morningherself to buy her penny-roll and the little supply of milk whichconstituted her breakfast. For the rest of the day she did not leave herroom, busying herself with her great work; and nothing broke in upon thedistressing monotony of her life but the weekly visits of M. De Brevan. 

For he did not forget his threat; and every week Henrietta was sure tosee him come. He came in with a solemn air, and coldly asked if she hadreflected since he had had the honor of presenting his respects to her. She did not answer him ordinarily, except by a look of contempt; buthe did not seem in the least disconcerted. He bowed respectfully, andinvariably said, before leaving the room, --

"Next time, then; I can wait. Oh! I have time; I can wait. "

If he hoped thus to conquer Henrietta more promptly, he was entirelymistaken. This periodical insult acted only as an inducement to keep upher wrath and to increase her energy. Her pride rose at the thought ofthis unceasing struggle; and she swore that she would be victorious. It was this sentiment which inspired her with a thought, which, in itsresults, was destined to have a decisive influence on her future. 

It was now the end of June, and she saw with trembling her littletreasure grow smaller and smaller; when one day she asked Mrs. Chevassat, who seemed to be of unusually good-humor, if she couldnot procure her some work. She told her that she was considered quiteskilful in all kinds of needlework. 

But the woman laughed at the first words, and said, --

"Leave me alone! Are hands like yours made to work?"

And when Henrietta insisted, and showed her, as a proof of what shecould do, the embroidery which she had commenced, she replied, --

"That is very pretty; but embroidering from morning till night would notenable a fairy to keep a canary-bird. "

There was probably some truth in what she said, exaggerated as itsounded; and the poor girl hastened to add that she understood otherkinds of work also. She was a first-class musician, for instance, andfully able to give music-lessons, or teach singing, if she could onlyget pupils. At these words a ray of diabolic satisfaction lighted up theold woman's eyes; and she cried out, --

"What, my 'pussy-cat, ' could you play dancing-music, like those artistswho go to the large parties of fashionable people?"

"Certainly!"

"Well, that is a talent worth something! Why did you not tell me before?I will think of it, and you shall see. "

On the next Saturday, early in the morning, she appeared in Henrietta'sroom with the bright face of a bearer of good news. 

"I have thought of you, " she said as soon as she entered. 

"Ah!"

"We have a tenant in the house who is going to give a large partyto-night. I have mentioned you to her; and she says she will give youthirty francs if you will make her guests jump. Thirty francs! That's abig sum; and besides, if they are pleased, you will get more customers. "

"In what part of the house does she live?"

"In the second story of the back building, looking upon the yard. Mrs. Hilaire, a very nice person, and so good! there is no one like her. Youwould have to be there at nine o'clock precisely. "

"I'll come. "

Quite happy, and full of hope, Henrietta spent a part of the afternoonin mending her only dress, a black silk dress, much worn unfortunately, and already often repaired. Still, by much skill and patience, shehad managed to look quite respectable when she rang the bell at Mrs. Hilaire's door. She was shown into a room furnished with odd furniture, but brilliantly lighted, in which seven or eight ladies in flamingcostumes, and as many fashionable gentlemen, were smoking and takingcoffee. Both ladies and gentlemen had just risen from table; there wasno mistaking it from their eyes and the sound of their voices. 

"Look! there is the musician from the garret!" exclaimed a large, dark-skinned woman, pretty, but very vulgar, who seemed to be Mrs. Hilaire. 

And, turning to Henrietta, she asked, --

"Will you take a little glass of something, my darling?"

The poor girl blushed crimson, and, painfully embarrassed, declined, andasked pardon for declining; when the lady broke in rather rudely, andsaid, --

"You are not thirsty? Very well. You'll drink after some time. In themeantime will you play us a quadrille? and mark the time, please. "

Then imitating with distressing accuracy the barking voice of masters ofceremonies at public balls, she called out, --

"Take your positions, take your positions: a quadrille!"

Henrietta had taken her seat at the piano. She turned her back to thedancers; but she had before her a mirror, in which she saw every gestureof Mrs. Hilaire and her guests. And then she became quite sure of whatshe had suspected from the beginning. She understood into what companyshe had been inveigled by the concierge's wife. She had, however, sufficient self-control to finish the quadrille. But, when the lastfigure had been danced, she rose; and, walking up to the mistress of thehouse, said, stammering painfully, and in extreme embarrassment, --

"Please excuse me, madam, I have to leave. I feel very unwell. I couldnot play any more. "

"How funny!" cried one of the gentlemen. "Here is our ball at an end!"

But the young woman said, --

"Hush, Julius! Don't you see how pale she is, --pale like death, the poorchild! What is the matter with you, darling? Is it the heat that makesyou feel badly? It is stifling hot here. "

And, when Henrietta was at the door, she said, --

"Oh, wait! I do not trouble people for nothing. Come, Julius, turn yourpockets inside out, and give the little one a twenty-franc-piece. "

The poor girl was almost outside, when she turned, and said, --

"Thank you, madam; but you owe me nothing. "

It was high time for Henrietta to leave. Her first surprise had beenfollowed by mad anger, which drove the blood to her head, and made herweep bitter tears. She knew now that Mrs. Chevassat had caught her inthis trap. What could the wretched woman have meant?

Carried away by an irresistible impulse, and no longer mistress ofherself, Henrietta rushed down stairs, and broke like a whirlwind intothe little box of the concierge, crying out, --

"How could you dare to send me to such people? You knew all about it. You are a wretch!"

Master Chevassat was the first to rise, and said, --

"What is the matter? Do you know to whom you are talking?"

But his wife interrupted him with a gesture, and, turning to Henrietta, said with cynic laughter, --

"Well, what next? Are these people not good enough for you; eh? In thefirst place, I am tired of your ways, my 'pussy-cat. ' When one is abeggar, as you are, one stays at home like a good girl; and one does notrun away with a young man, and gad about the world with lovers. "

Thereupon she took advantage of the fact that Henrietta had pausedupon the threshold, to push her brutally out of the room at the risk ofthrowing her down, and fiercely banged the door. An hour afterwards thepoor girl vehemently reproached herself for her passion. 

"Alas!" she said to herself, weeping, "the weak, the unhappy, haveno right to complain. Who knows what this wicked woman will now do toavenge herself?"

She found it out the second day afterwards. 

Coming down a little before seven o'clock, in order to buy her roll andher milk for breakfast, she met at the entrance-door Mrs. Hilaire, faceto face. At the sight of the poor girl, that irascible woman turned asred as a poppy, and, rushing up to her, seized her by the arm, and shookit furiously, crying out at the same time with the full force of herlungs, --

"Ah, it is you, miserable beggar, who go and tell stories on me! Oh, what wickedness! A beggar whom I had sent for to allow her to earnthirty francs! And I must needs think she is sick, and pity her, and askJulius to give her a twenty-franc-piece. "

Henrietta felt that she ought not to blame this woman, who, after all, had shown her nothing but kindness. But she was thoroughly frightened, and tried to get away. The woman, however, held her fast, and criedstill louder, till several tenants came to the open windows. 

"They'll make you pay for that, my darling, " she yelled, amid fouloaths, which her wrath carried along with it, as a torrent floats downstones and debris. "They'll make you pay for it! You'll have to clearout of here, I tell you!"

And the threat was not an idle one. That very afternoon the samelamentable scene was repeated; and so it went on every morning and everyday. Mrs. Hilaire had friends in the house, who took up the quarrel, andfell upon Henrietta whenever she appeared. They lay in wait for her byturns; and she no sooner ventured upon the staircase than the shoutsbegan; so that the unfortunate girl no longer dared leave the house. Early in the morning, as soon as the door was opened, she ran out to buyher daily provisions; then, running up swiftly, she barricaded herselfin her chamber, and never stirred out again. 

Surely, there was no lack of desire on her part to leave the house. Butwhere should she go? Besides, the unknown frightened her; might it nothave still greater terrors in reserve for her?

At last she was entirely without money. 

In July her rent had cost her a hundred francs, and she had beencompelled to buy a dress in place of her merino dress, which wasfalling to pieces. In the first days of August she was at the end of herresources. Nor would she have been able to make them last so long, evenif she had not, ever since that evening at Mrs. Hilaire's, done entirelywithout the expensive board of Mrs. Chevassat. Even this rupture, atwhich Henrietta had at first rejoiced, became now to her a source ofoverwhelming trouble. She had still a few things that she might sell, --abrooch, her cashmere, her watch, and her ear-rings; but she did not knowhow and to whom she could sell them. 

All the stories by which the wicked woman down stairs had tried tofrighten her from going herself to the pawnbroker came back to hermind; and she saw herself, at the first attempt, arrested by the police, examined, and carried back to her father, handed over to Sarah and SirThorn, and--

Still want pressed her hard; and at last, after long hesitation, oneevening, at dark, she slipped out to find a purchaser. What she waslooking for was one of those dark little shops in which men lie in waitfor their prey, whom the police always suspects, and carefully watches. She found one such as she desired. An old woman with spectacles on hernose, without even asking her name, and evidently taking her to be athief, gave her, for her brooch and her ear-rings, a hundred and fortyfrancs. 

What was this sum of money? A nothing; Henrietta understood thatperfectly. And hence, overcoming all her reserve and her reluctance, shevowed she would try every thing in her power to obtain work. 

She kept her word, sustained by a secret hope of triumphing, by dint ofenergy and perseverance, over fate itself. She went from store to store, from door to door, so to say, soliciting employment, as she would haveasked for alms, promising to do any thing that might be wanted, inreturn merely for her board and lodging. But it was written that everything should turn against her. Her beauty, her charms, her distinguishedappearance, her very manner of speaking, were so many obstacles in herway. Who could think of engaging a girl as a servant, who looked like aduchess? So that all her prayers only met with cold faces, shrugging ofshoulders, and ironical smiles. She was refused everywhere. It is truethat now and then some gallant clerk replied to her application by adeclaration of love. 

Chance had thrown into her hands one of those small handbills whichbill-stickers paste upon the gutters, and in which workwomen are"wanted. " Henceforth she spent her days in looking up these handbills, and in going to places from which they were issued. But here she metwith the same difficulties. There was no end of questions. 

"Who are you? Where have you been? By whom have you been employed?" andfinally, always the same distressing answer, --

"We cannot employ persons like you. "

Then she went to an employment agency. She had noticed one whichdisplayed at the door a huge placard, on which places were offered fromthirty-five up to a thousand francs a month. She went up stairs. A veryloquacious gentleman made her first deposit a considerable sum, and thentold her he had exactly what she wanted. She went ten times back to theoffice, and always in vain. After an eleventh appointment, he gave herthe address of two houses, in one of which he assured her she wouldcertainly be employed. These two houses turned out to be two smallshops, where pretty young ladies were wanted to pour out absinthe, andto wait upon the customers. 

This was Henrietta's last effort. For ten months she had now beenstruggling with a kind of helpless fury against inconquerabledifficulties, and at last the springs of her energy had lost theirelasticity. Now, crushed in body and mind, overwhelmed and conquered, she gave up. 

It lacked still eighteen months before she would become of age. Sinceshe had escaped from her father's house, she had not received a linefrom Daniel, although she had constantly written to him, and she had, ofcourse, no means of ascertaining the date of his return. She had once, following M. De Brevan's advice, summoned courage enough to go to thenavy department, and there to inquire if they had any news about "TheConquest. " A clerk had replied to her, with a joke, that "The Conquest"might be afloat yet "a year or two. " How could the poor girl wait tillthen? Why should she any longer maintain the useless struggle? She feltacute pains in her chest; she coughed; and, after walking a few yards, her legs gave way under her, and she broke out in cold perspiration. She now spent her days almost always in bed, shivering with chills, or plunged in a kind of stupor, during which her mind was filled withdismal visions. She felt as if the very sources of life were drying upwithin her, and as if all her blood was, drop by drop, oozing out of herthrough an open wound. 

"If I could die thus!" she thought. 

This was the last favor she asked of God. Henceforth, a miraclealone could save her; and she hardly wished to be saved. A perfectindifference and intense distaste of every thing filled her soul. Shethought she had exhausted all that man can suffer; and there was nothingleft for her to fear. 

A last misfortune which now befell her did not elicit even a sigh fromher. One afternoon, while she had been down stairs, she had left thewindow open. The wind had suddenly sprung up, slammed the blinds, andthus upset a chair. On this chair hung her cashmere; it fell into thefireplace, in which a little fire was still burning; and when she cameback she found the shawl half-burnt to ashes. It was the only article ofvalue which she still possessed; and she might at any time have procuredseveral hundred francs for it. 

"Well, " she said, "what does it matter? It means three months taken frommy life; that is all. "

And she did not think of it any more; she did not even trouble herselfabout the rent, which became due in October. 

"I shall not be able to pay it, " she said to herself. "Mrs. Chevassatwill give me notice, and then the hour will have come. "

Still, to her great surprise, the worthy woman from below did not scoldher for not having the money ready, and even promised she would makethe owner of the house give her time. This inexplicable forbearancegave Henrietta a week's respite. But at last, one morning, she woke up, having not a cent left, having nothing even, she thought, that she couldget money for, and being very hungry. 

"Well, " she thought, as if announcing to her own soul that thecatastrophe had at last come, "all I need now is a few minutes'courage. "

She said so in her mind; but in reality she was chilled to the heart bythe fearful certainty that the crisis had really come: she felt as ifthe executioner were at the door of the room, ready to announce hersentence of death. And yet, for a month now, she had thought of suicideonly; and the evening before she had thought it over with a kind ofdelight. 

"I am surely not such a coward?" she said to herself in a fit of rage. 

Yes, she was afraid. Yes, she told herself in vain that there was noother choice left to her but that between death and Sir Thorn, or M. DeBrevan. She was terrified. 

Alas! she was only twenty years old; she had never felt such exuberanceof life within her; she wanted to live, --to live a month more, a week, aday!

If only her shawl had not been burnt! Then, examining with haggard eyesher chamber, she saw that exquisite piece of embroidery which she hadundertaken. It was a dress, covered _all_ over with work of marvellousdelicacy and exquisite outlines. Unfortunately, it was far from beingfinished. 

"Never mind!" she said to herself; "perhaps they will give me somethingfor it. "

And, wrapping the dress up hastily, she hurried to offer it for sale tothe old woman who had already bought her ear-rings, and then her watch. The fearful old hag seemed to be overcome with surprise when she sawthis marvel of skill. 

"That's very fine, " she said; "why, it is magnificent! and, if it werefinished, it would be worth a mint of money; but as it is no one wouldwant it. "

She consented, however, to give twenty francs for it, solely from loveof art, she said; for it was money thrown away. These twenty francswere, for Henrietta, an unexpected release. 

"It will last me a month, " she thought, determined to live on dry breadonly; "and who can tell what a month may bring forth?"

And this unfortunate girl had an inheritance from her mother of morethan a million! If she had but known it, if she had but had a singlefriend to advise her in her inexperience! But she had been faithful toher vow never to let her secret be known to a living soul; and the mostterrible anguish had never torn from her a single complaint. 

M. De Brevan knew this full well; for he had continued his weekly visitswith implacable regularity. This perseverance, which had at first servedto maintain Henrietta's courage, had now become a source of unspeakabletorture. 

"Ah, I shall be avenged!" she said to him one day. "Daniel will comeback. "

But he, shrugging his shoulders, had answered, --

"If you count upon that alone, you may as well surrender, and become mywife at once. "

She turned her head from him with an expression of ineffable disgust. Rather the icy arms of Death! And still the pulsations of her heart wereapparently counted. Since the end of November her twenty francs had beenexhausted; and to prolong her existence she had had to resort to thelast desperate expedients of extreme poverty. All that she possessed, all that she could carry from her chamber without being stopped by theconcierge, she had sold, piece by piece, bit after bit, for ten cents, for five cents, for a roll. Her linen had been sacrificed first; thenthe covering of her bed, her curtains, her sheets. The mattress had gonethe way of the rest, --the wool from the inside first, carried off byhandfuls; then the ticking. 

Thus, on the 25th of December, she found herself in a chamber as utterlydenuded as if a fire had raged there; while she herself had on her bodybut a single petticoat under her thin alpaca dress, without a rag tocover herself in these wintry nights. Two evenings before, when terrortriumphed over her resolution for a time, she had written her father along letter. He had made no reply. Last night she had again written inthese words:--

"I am hungry, and I have no bread. If by tomorrow at noon you have notcome to my assistance, at one o'clock you will have ceased to have adaughter. "

Tortured by cold and hunger, emaciated, and almost dying, she had waitedfor an answer. At noon nothing had come. She gave herself time till fouro'clock. Four o'clock, and no answer. 

"I must make an end of it, " she said to herself. 

Her preparations had been made. She had told the Cerberus below that shewould be out all the evening; and she had procured a considerable stockof charcoal. She wrote two letters, --one to her father, the other to M. De Brevan. 

After that she closed hermetically all the openings in her room, kindledtwo small fires, and, having commended her soul to God, stretchedherself out on her bed. It was five o'clock. 

A dense, bitter vapor spread slowly through the room; and the candleceased to give a visible light. Then she felt as if an iron screw weretightening on her temples. She was suffocating, and felt a desire tosleep; but in her stomach she suffered intense pains. 

Then strange and incoherent thoughts arose deliriously in her head; herears were filled with confused noises; her pulse beat with extraordinaryvehemence; nausea nearly convulsed her; and from time to time shefancied terrific explosions were breaking her skull to pieces. 

The candle went out. Maddened by a sensation of dying, she tried torise; but she could not. She wanted to cry; but her voice ended in arattle in her throat. 

Then her ideas became utterly confused. Respiration ceased. It was allover. She was suffering no longer. 

XX. 

Thus a few minutes longer, and all was really over. Count Ville-Handry's daughter was dying! Count Ville-Handry's daughter was dead!

But at that very hour the tenant of the fourth story, Papa Ravinet, the second-hand dealer, was going to his dinner. If he had gone down asusually, by the front staircase, no noise would have reached him. ButProvidence was awake. That evening he went down the back stairs, and heard the death-rattle of the poor dying girl. In our beautifulegotistical days, many a man, in the place of this old man, would nothave gone out of his way. He, on the contrary, hurried down to informthe concierge. Many a man, again, would have been quieted by theapparent calmness of the Chevassat couple, and would have been satisfiedwith their assurance that Henrietta was not at home. He, however, insisted, and, in spite of the evident reluctance of the concierge andhis wife, compelled them to go up, and brought out, by his words first, and then by his example, one tenant after another. 

It was he likewise, who, while the concierge and the other people weredeliberating, directed what was to be done for the dying girl, and whohastened to fetch from his magazine a mattress, sheets, blankets, wood to make a fire, in fact, every thing that was needed in that barechamber. 

A few moments later Henrietta opened her eyes. Her first sensation was avery strange one. 

In the first place she was utterly amazed at feeling that she was in awarm bed, --she who had, for so many days, endured all the tortures ofbitter cold. Then, looking around, she was dazzled by the candlesthat were burning on her table, and the beautiful, bright fire in herfireplace. And then she looked with perfect stupor at all the women whomshe did not know, and who were bending over her, watching her movements. 

Had her father at last come to her assistance?

No, for he would have been there; and she looked in vain for him amongall these strange people. 

Then, understanding from some words which were spoken close by her, thatit was to chance alone she owed her rescue from death, she was filledwith indescribable grief. 

"To have suffered all that can be suffered in dying, " she said toherself, "and then not to die after all!"

She almost had a feeling of hatred against all these people who werebusying themselves around her. Now that they had brought her back tolife, would they enable her to live?

Nevertheless, she distinguished very clearly what was going on in herroom. She recognized the wealthy ladies from the first story, who hadstayed to nurse her, and between them Mrs. Chevassat, who assumed anair of great activity, while she explained to them how Henrietta haddeceived her affectionate heart in order to carry out her fatal purpose. 

"You see, I did not dream of any thing, " she protested in a whiningtone. "A poor little pussy-cat, who was always merry, and this morningyet sang like a bird. I thought she might be a little embarrassed, butnever suspected such misery. You see, ladies, she was as proud as aqueen, and as haughty as the weather. She would rather have died thanask for assistance; for she knew she had only a word to say to me. DidI not already, in October, when I saw she would not be able to pay herrent, become responsible for her?"

And thereupon the infamous hypocrite bent over the poor girl, kissed heron her forehead, and said with a tender tone of voice, --

"Did you not love me, dear little pussy-cat; did not you? I know youloved poor old Mrs. Chevassat. "

Unable to articulate a word, even if she had understood what was said, poor Henrietta shivered, shrank with horror and disgust from the contactwith those lying lips. And the emotion which this feeling caused her didmore for her than all the attentions that were paid her. Still, it wasonly after the doctor, who had been sent for, had come and bled her, that she was restored to the full use of her faculties. Then shethanked, in a very feeble voice, the people around her, assuring themthat she felt much better now, and might safely be left alone. 

The two wealthy ladies, whom curiosity had carried off at the momentwhen they were sitting down to dinner, did not wait for more, and, veryhappy to be released, slipped away at once. But the concierge's wiferemained by Henrietta's bedside till she was alone with her victim; andthen every thing changed in her face, tone of voice, look, and manner. 

"Well, " she commenced, "now you are happy, miss! You have advertised myhouse, and it will all be in the papers. Everybody will pity you, and think your lover a cold-blooded villain, who lets you die ofstarvation. "

The poor young girl deprecated the charge with such a sweet, gentleexpression of face, that a savage would have been touched; but Mrs. Chevassat was civilized. 

"And still you know very well, " she went on in a bitter tone, "that dearM. Maxime has done all he could to save you. Only day before yesterday, he offered you his whole fortune"--

"Madam, " stammered Henrietta, "have you no mercy?"

Mercy--Mrs. Chevassat! What a joke!

"You would take nothing, " she continued, "from M. Maxime. Why, I askyou? To play the virtuous woman, was it? It was hardly worth while, ifyou meant, immediately afterwards, to accept that old miser, who willmake life hard enough for you. Ah, you have fallen into nice hands!"

Gathering up all the strength that had come back to her, Henriettaraised herself on the pillows, and asked, --

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing! I see. After all, you would have it so. Besides, he hadbeen looking after you a long time already. "

As soon as Henrietta opened her eyes, Papa Ravinet had discreetlywithdrawn, in order to leave the ladies, who were about her, time toundress her. Thus she had not seen the man who had saved her, and didnot understand the allusions of the old woman. 

"Explain, madam, explain!"

"Ah, upon my word! that is not difficult. The man who has pulled youout, who has brought you all these things to make your bed, and kindlea fire; why, that is the second-hand dealer of the fourth story! And hewill not stop there, I am sure. Patience, and you will know well enoughwhat I mean. "

It must be borne in mind, that the woman, for fear Henrietta might sellto Papa Ravinet what she had to sell, or for some other reason, hadalways painted the old man to her in colors by no means flattering. 

"What ought I to be afraid of?" asked Henrietta. 

The woman hesitated. At last she answered, --

"If I were to tell you, you would repeat it to him when he comes back. "

"No, I promise you. "

"Swear it on your mother's sacred memory. "

"I swear. "

Thus reassured, the old woman came close up to her bed; and, in ananimated but low voice, she said, --

"Well, I mean this: if you accept now what Papa Ravinet will offer you, in six months you will be worse than any of Mrs. Hilaire's girls. Ah!don't tell me 'I do not mean to touch him. ' The old rascal has ruinedmore than one who was just as good as you are. That's his business; and, upon my word! he understands it. Now, forewarned, forearmed. I am goingdown to make you a soup. I'll be back at night. And above all, you hear, not a word!"

By one word Mrs. Chevassat had plunged Henrietta once more into an abyssof profound despair. 

"Great God!" she said to herself, "why must the generous assistance ofthis old man be a new snare for me?"

With her elbow resting on her pillow, her forehead supported by herhand, her eyes streaming with tears, she endeavored to gather her ideas, which seemed to be scattered to the four winds, like the leaves oftrees after a storm; when a modest, dry cough aroused her from hermeditations. 

She trembled, and raised her head. 

In the framework of the open door stood a man of mature age and ofmedium height, looking at her. 

It was Papa Ravinet, who, after a long conversation with the concierge, and after some words with his amiable wife, had come up to inquire afterhis patient. She guessed at it, rather than she knew; for, although shelived in the same house with him, she was not in the same part of thebuilding, and she scarcely recollected having caught a glimpse of himnow and then in crossing the yard. 

"That, " she thought, "is the man who plots my ruin, the wretch whom I amto avoid. "

Now, it is true that this man, with his mournful face, his huge, brushlike eyebrows, and his small, yellow eyes, startling by theirincessant activity, had for the observer something enigmatical abouthim, and therefore did not inspire much confidence. 

Nevertheless, Henrietta thanked him none the less heartily, althoughgreatly embarrassed, for his readiness to help her, his kind care, andhis generosity in providing every thing she wanted. 

"Oh! you owe me no thanks, " he said. "I have only done my duty, and thatvery imperfectly. "

And at once, in a rather grim manner, he began to tell her that what hehad done was nothing in comparison with what he meant to do. He had buttoo well guessed what had led Henrietta to attempt suicide; he had onlyto look around her room. But he swore she should have nothing more tofear from want as long as he was there. 

But, the more earnest and pressing the good man became in hisprotestations, the more Henrietta drew back within her usual reserve;her mind being filled with the prejudices instilled by Mrs. Chevassat. Fortunately he was a clever man, the old dealer; and by means of notsaying what might shock her, and by saying much that could not fail totouch her, he gradually regained his position. He almost conquered herwhen he returned to her the letters she had written before making herdreadful preparations, and when she saw that they looked unhurt, and sealed as before. Thus, when he left her, after half an hour'sdiplomatic intercourse, he had obtained from the poor young girl thepromise that she would not renew the attempt at her life, and that shewould explain to him by what fatal combination of circumstances she hadbeen reduced to such extreme suffering. 

"You would not hesitate, " he said, "if you knew how easy it often is, bya little experience, to arrange the most difficult matters. "

Henrietta did not hesitate. A thought which had occurred to her as soonas she found herself alone had brought her to this conclusion: "If PapaRavinet were really what Mrs. Chevassat says, that bad woman would nothave warned me against him. If she tries to keep me from accepting theold man's assistance, she no doubt finds it to her advantage that Ishould do so. "

When she tried, after that, to examine as coolly as she could theprobable consequences of her decision, she found enormous chances inher favor. If Papa Ravinet was sincere, she might be enabled to wait forDaniel; if he was not sincere, what did she risk? She who had not feareddeath itself need not fear any thing else. Lucretia's dagger will alwaysprotect a brave woman's liberty. 

But still, in spite of the pressing need she had for rest, her promisekept her awake for the greater part of the night; for she passed in hermind once more over the whole lamentable story of her sufferings, andasked herself what she might confess to, and what she ought to withholdfrom the old dealer. Had he not already discovered, by the address ofone of her letters, that she was the daughter of Count Ville-Handry? Andjust that she would have liked to keep him from knowing. On the otherhand, was it not foolish to ask the advice of a man to whom we will notconfess the whole truth?

"I must tell him all, " she said, "or nothing. " And, after a moment'sreflection, she added, --"I will tell him all, and keep nothing back. "She was in this disposition, when in the morning, about nine o'clock, Papa Ravinet reappeared in her room. He looked very pale, the old man;and the expression of his face, and the tone of his voice, betrayed anemotion which he could scarcely control, together with deep anxiety. 

"Well?" he asked forgetting in his preoccupation to inquire even how thepoor girl had passed the night. 

She shook her head sadly, and replied, pointing to a chair, --

"I have made up my mind, sir; sit down, please, and listen to me. " Theold dealer had been fully convinced that Henrietta would come to that;but he had not hoped for it so soon. He could not help exclaiming, "Atlast!" and intense, almost delirious joy shone in his eyes. Even thisjoy seemed to be so unnatural, that the young girl was made quiteuncomfortable by it. Fixing her eyes upon the old man with all the powerof observation of which she was capable, she said, --

"I am fully aware that what I am about to do is almost unparalleled inrashness. I put myself, to a certain extent, absolutely in your power, sir, --the power of an utter stranger, of whom I am told I have everything to fear. "

"O miss!" he declared, "believe me"--

But she interrupted him, saying with great solemnity, --

"I think, if you were to deceive me, you would be the meanest and leastof men. I rely upon your honor. "

And then in a firm voice she began the account of her life, from thatfatal evening on which her father had said to her, --

"I have resolved, my daughter, to give you a second mother. "

The old dealer had taken a seat facing Henrietta, and listened, fixing his eyes upon her face as if to enter into her thoughts, and toanticipate her meaning. His face was all aglow with excitement, like theface of a gambler who is watching the little white ball that is to makehim a rich man or a beggar. It looked almost as if he had foreseen theterrible communication she was making, and was experiencing a bittersatisfaction at finding his presentiments confirmed, --

As Henrietta was proceeding, he would murmur now and then, --

"That is so! Yes, of course that had to come next. "

And all these people whose abominable intrigues Henrietta was explainingto him were apparently better known to him than to her, as if he hadfrequently been in contact with them, or even lived in their intimacy. He gave his judgment on each one with amazing assurance, as the occasionpresented itself, saying, --

"Ah! There I recognize Sarah and Mrs. Brian. "

Or, --

"Sir Thorn never does otherwise. "

Or, again, --

"Yes, that is all over Maxime de Brevan. "

And, according to the different phases of the account, he would laughbitterly and almost convulsively, or he would break out in imprecations. 

"What a trick!" he murmured with an accent of deep horror, "what aninfernal snare!"

At another point he turned deadly pale, and almost trembled on hischair, as if he were feeling ill, and were about to fall. Henrietta wastelling him at that moment, from Daniel's recital, the circumstancesunder which M. De Kergrist had died, and Malgat had disappeared, --thatpoor cashier who had left such an immense deficit behind; who had beencondemned to penal servitude; and whose body the police believed to havefound in a wood near Paris. But, as soon as the young girl had finished, he rose all of a sudden, and cried out in a formidable voice, --

"I have them now, the wretches! this time I have them!"

And, breaking down under his excessive excitement, he sank into hischair, covering his face with his hands. Henrietta was dumfounded; shelooked aghast at the old man, in whom she now placed all her hopes. Already, the night before, she had had some suspicions that he was notwhat he seemed to be; now she was quite sure. But who was he? She hadnothing to go by to solve that riddle. 

This only she thought she saw clearly, that Sarah Brandon, Mrs. Brian, and M. Thomas Elgin, as well as M. De Brevan, had at some time or othercome in personal contact with Papa Ravinet, and that he hated themmortally. 

"Unless he should try to deceive me, " she thought, not having quiteshaken off all doubts yet. 

He had in the meantime mastered his emotion, and was regaining all hiscomposure. 

"Let no one, henceforth, deny Providence!" he exclaimed. "Ah! fools andidiots alone can do so. M. De Brevan had every reason to think that thishouse would keep the secret of his crime as safe as the grave, and sobrought you here. And here it happens I must chance to live, --of allmen, I, --and he remain unaware of it! By a kind of miracle we arebrought together under the same roof, --you, the daughter of CountVille-Handry, and I, one after the other, without knowing each other;and, at the very moment when this Brevan is about to triumph, Providencebrings us together, and this meeting ruins him!"

His voice betrayed his fierce joy at approaching vengeance; his sallowcheeks flushed up; and his eyes shone brilliantly. 

"For M. De Brevan was triumphing last night. The woman Chevassat, his confederate, had watched you, and noticing your preparations forcommitting suicide, had said to him, 'Rejoice! at last we shall get ridof her. '"

Henrietta shuddered, and stammered out, --

"Is it possible?"

Then the old man, looking at her half surprised, said, --

"What! after all you have seen of M. De Brevan, you have never suspectedhim of meditating your death?"

"Why, yes! I sometimes thought so. "

"Well, this time you were right, madam. Ah! you do not know your enemiesyet. But I know them, I; for I have had a chance of measuring the depthof their wickedness. And there your safety would lie, if you wouldfollow my advice. "

"I will, sir. "

Papa Ravinet was evidently a little embarrassed. He said, however, --

"You see, madam, I shall have to ask you to trust me blindly. "

"I will trust you blindly. "

"It is of the utmost importance that you should escape out of reach ofM. De Brevan; he must lose every trace of you. You will, consequently, have to leave this house. "

"I will leave it. "

"And in the way I say. "

"I will obey you in every point. "

The last shadow of trouble which had still overclouded the old dealer'sbrow vanished as if by magic. 

"Then all will go well, " he said, rubbing his hands as if he were takingoff the skin; "and I guarantee the rest. Let us make haste to understandeach other; for I have been here a long time, and the woman Chevassatmust be on needles. Still, it is important she should not suspect thatwe are acting in concert. "

As if afraid that an indiscreet ear might be listening at the door, hedrew his chair quite close to Henrietta's bed, and whispered in a voicebut just audible to her, --

"As soon as I have turned my back that woman will come up, burning withcuriosity to know what has happened between us. You must pretend to bevery angry with me. Give her to understand that you think me a wickedold man, who wants you to pay the price of infamy for the services Iwish to render to you. "

Henrietta had turned crimson. Now she stammered out, --

"But, sir"--

"Perhaps you dislike telling a falsehood?"

"You see--I cannot, I fear. It would not be easy to lie so as to deceiveMrs. Chevassat. "

"Ah, madam, you must! it cannot be helped. If you admit the absolutenecessity, you may succeed in misleading her. Remember that we mustfight the enemy with his own weapons. "

"Well, then, I will try, sir. "

"So be it. The rest, you will see, is a small matter. As soon as nightfalls, you will dress, and watch for the moment when the concierge, asusually, goes about the house lighting the gas. As soon as you see himon the great staircase; you will make haste and run down. I shall takemeasures to have the woman Chevassat either kept engaged, or out ofthe house; and you will thus find it easy to slip out without beingperceived. Once in the street, you will turn to the right. At the cornerof the street, in front of the great Auction-Mart, you will see a cabstanding, with a plaid handkerchief like this hanging out of the window. Get into it boldly; I'll be inside. I do not know if I have made it allclear to you?"

"Oh, perfectly, sir!"

"Then we understand each other. Do you feel strong enough?"

"Yes, sir. You may rely on me. "

Every thing passed off just as the old dealer had foreseen; andHenrietta played her part so well, that at night, when her disappearancewas discovered, Mrs. Chevassat was neither much surprised nor troubled. 

"She was tired of life, the girl!" she said to her husband. "I saw itwhen I was up there. We'll see her again at the Morgue. As the charcoaldid not do the work, she has tried the water. "

XXI. 

Dear woman! She would not have gone to bed so quietly, nor have fallenasleep so comfortably, if she had suspected the truth. 

What gave her such perfect peace was the certainty she had, thatHenrietta had left the house bareheaded, with wretched, worn-out shoeson her feet, with nothing but one petticoat, and her thin alpacadress on her body. Now, she was quite sure, that in such a state ofdestitution, and in this cold December night, the poor young girl wouldsoon be weary wandering through the streets of Paris, and would beirresistibly drawn to the waters of the Seine. 

But it was by no means so. When Henrietta was alone, after the departureof Papa Ravinet, she had only become confirmed in her determination totrust in him blindly: she had even forborne to think it over, as shehad, humanly speaking, no other choice on earth. Thus, after havingreceived Mrs. Chevassat's visit, and after having played the partassigned to her by the old dealer, she rose, and, although quiteexhausted yet, took her place at the window to watch for the propertime. Four o'clock struck; and, as it was growing dark, the conciergecame out, with a light in his hand, and went up the big staircase tolight the lamps. 

"Now is the time!" she said to herself. 

And casting a last look at this wretched room, where she had suffered somuch, and wept so much, and where she had expected to die, she slippedout. The back stairs were quite dark, and thus she was not recognizedby two persons whom she met. The court was deserted, and the concierge'sroom locked. She crossed the hall, and at one bound was in the street. Some forty paces to the left she could see the place where Papa Ravinetwas waiting for her in his cab. She ran there, got in; and the driver, who had received his instructions, whipped his horses as soon as heheard the door shut. 

"And now, sir, " she began, "where do you take me?"

By the light of the gas in the stores, which from time to time lightedup the interior of the carriage, she could see the features of herneighbor. He looked at her with manifest satisfaction; and a smile offriendly malice played upon his lips. 

"Ah!" he replied, "that is a great secret. But you will know soon, forthe man drives well. "

The poor horses went, indeed, as fast as if the dollar which the driverhad received had infused the noble blood of the fastest racer into theirveins. They drove down the whole long street at a furious rate, turnedto the right, and, after many more turns, stopped at last before a houseof modest appearance. Lightly and promptly, like a sheriff's clerk, PapaRavinet jumped out; and, having aided Henrietta to alight, he offeredher his arm, and drew her into the house, saying, --

"You will see what a surprise I have in store for you. "

In the third story the old man stopped; and, drawing a key from hispocket, he opened the door which faced the staircase. And, before shehad time to consider, Henrietta found herself gently pushed into a smallsitting-room, where a middle-aged lady was embroidering at a frame bythe light of a large copper lamp. 

"Dear sister, " said Papa Ravinet, still in the door, "here is the younglady of whom I spoke to you, and who does us the honor to accept ourhospitality. "

Slowly the elderly lady put her needle into the canvas, pushed back theframe, and rose. 

She seemed to be about fifty years old, and must have been beautifulformerly. But age and sorrow had blanched her hair, and furrowed herface; and the habit of silence and meditation seemed to have sealed herlips forever. Her stern countenance, nevertheless, expressed kindliness. She was dressed in black; and her costume betrayed a lady from aprovincial town. 

"You are welcome, madam, " she said in a grave voice. "You will find inour modest home that peace and that sympathy which you need. "

In the meantime, Papa Ravinet had come forward; and, bowing toHenrietta, he said, --

"I beg to present to you Mrs. Bertolle, my dearly beloved sister Mary, awidow, and a saint, who has devoted herself to her brother, and who hassacrificed to him every thing, --her fortune, her peace, and her life. "

Ah! there was no mistaking the look with which the old man caressed theold lady: he worshipped her. But she interrupted him, as if embarrassedby his praise, saying, --

"You have told me so late, Anthony, that I have not been able to attendto all of your orders. But the young lady's room is ready, and if youchoose"--

"Yes, we must show her the way. "

The old lady having taken the lamp, after removing the screen, opened adoor which led from the parlor directly into a small, modestly furnishedroom, which shone with exquisite tidiness, and which exhaled that freshodor of lavender so dear to all housekeepers from the country. Themirrors and the furniture all glistened alike in the bright fire on thehearth; and the curtains were as white as snow. 

At one glance the old dealer had taken in every thing; and, after asmile of gratitude addressed to his sister, he said to Henrietta, --

"This is your room, madam. "

The poor girl, all overcome, sought in vain for words to express hergratitude. The old lady did not give her time. She showed her, spreadout on the bed, petticoats, white linen, stockings, a warm dressing-wrapper of gray flannel with blue flowers, and at the foot a pair ofslippers. 

"This will answer for a change to-night, madam, " she said. "I haveprovided what was most pressing; to-morrow we will see about the rest. "

Big tears, tears of happiness and gratitude, this time, rolled downHenrietta's pale cheeks. Oh, indeed! this was a surprise, and adelicious one, which the ingenious foresight of her new friend hadprepared for her. 

"Ah, you are so kind!" she said, giving her hands to brother andsister--"you are so kind! How can I ever repay what you are doing forme?"

Then overcoming her emotion, and turning to Papa Ravinet, she added, --

"But pray, who are you, sir, --you who thus come to succor, a pooryoung girl who is an utter stranger to you, doubling the value of yourassistance by your great delicacy?"

The old lady replied in his place, --"My brother, madam, is anunfortunate man, who has paid for a moment's forgetfulness of duty, withhis happiness, his prospects, and _his_ very life. Do not question him. Let him be for you what he is for all of us, --Anthony Ravinet, dealer incuriosities. "

The voice of the old lady betrayed such great sorrow, silently endured, that Henrietta looked ashamed, regretting her indiscretion. But the oldman at once said, --

"What I may say to you madam, is, that you owe me no gratitude, --no, none whatever. What I do, my own interest commands me to do; and Ideserve no credit for it. Why do you speak of gratitude? It is I whoshall forever be under obligations to you for the immense service whichyou render me. "

He seemed to be inspired by his own words; his figure straightened up;his eyes flashed fire; and he was on the point of letting, perhaps, some secret escape him, when his sister interrupted him, sayingreproachfully, --

"Anthony, Anthony!"

He stopped at once. Then he resumed, --

"You are right; you are right! I forget myself here; and I ought to bealready back in Water Street. It is of the utmost importance that thatwoman Chevassat should not miss me a moment to-night. "

He was about to leave them, when the old lady held him back, and said, --

"You ought to go back, I know; only be careful! It is a miracle that M. De Brevan has never met you and recognized you, during the year he hasbeen coming to the house in which you live. If such a misfortune shouldhappen now, our enemies might once more escape us. After the younglady's desperate act, he would not fail to recognize the man who hassaved her. What can you do to avoid meeting him?"

"I have thought of that danger, " he replied. "When I go back, I shalltell the two Chevassats a little story, which will frighten them, sothat they will advise Brevan never to appear there, except at night, ashe formerly did. "

Thereupon he bowed to Henrietta, and went away with the words, --

"To-morrow we will consult with each other. "

The shipwrecked man who is saved at the last moment, when, strength andspirits being alike exhausted, he feels himself sinking into the abyss, cannot, upon feeling once more firm ground under his feet, experiencea sense of greater happiness than Henrietta did that night. For thedelicious sensation had become deeper and intenser by the evening spentin company with Papa Ravinet's sister. 

The widow, free from embarrassment as from affectation, possessed aquiet dignity which appeared in certain words and ways she had, andwhich made Henrietta guess the principal events of her life. Ruined allof a sudden, --she did not say how, --some months after the death of herhusband, she, who had been accustomed to all the comforts of opulencehad seen herself reduced to poverty, and all its privations. This hadhappened about five years ago. Since then she had imposed upon herselfthe strictest economy, although she never neglected her appearance. Shehad but one servant, who came every morning to clean up the house;she herself did all the other work, washing and ironing her own linen, cooking only twice a week, and eating cold meat on the other days, asmuch to save money as to save time. 

For her time had its value. She worked on her frame patterns forembroideries, for which a fashionable store paid her very good prices. There were days in summer when she earned three francs. 

The blow had been a severe one; she did not conceal it. Gradually, however, she had become reconciled to it, and taken up this habit ofeconomizing with unflinching severity, and down to the smallestdetails. At present, she felt in these very privations a kind of secretsatisfaction which results from the sense of having accomplished aduty, --a satisfaction all the greater, the harder the duty is. 

What duty, she did not say. 

"That lady is a noble creature among many!" said Henrietta to herselfthat night, when she retired after a modest repast. 

Still she could not get over the mystery which surrounded the lives ofthese two personages, whom fate, relenting at last, had placed in herway. What was the mystery in the past of this brother and sister? Forthere was one; and, so far from trying to conceal it, they had beggedHenrietta not to inquire into it. And how was their past connectedwith her own past? How could their future depend in any way on her ownfuture?

But fatigue soon made an end to her meditations, and confused her ideas;and, for the first time in two years, she fell asleep with a senseof perfect security; she slept peacefully, without starting at theslightest noise, without being troubled by silence, without wonderingwhether her enemies were watching her, without suspecting the very wallsof her room. 

When she awoke next morning, calm and refreshed, it was broad daylight, nearly ten o'clock; and a pale ray of the sun was playing over thepolished furniture. When she opened her eyes, she saw the dealer'ssister standing at the foot of her bed, like a good genius who had beenwatching over her slumbers. 

"Oh, how lazy I am!" she exclaimed with the hearty laugh of a child; forshe felt quite at home in this little bedroom, where she had only spenta night; she felt as much at home here as in her father's palace whenher mother was still alive; and it seemed to her as if she had livedhere many a year. 

"My brother was here about half an hour ago to talk with you, " said theold lady; "but we did not like to wake you. You needed repose so much!He will be back in the evening, and dine with us. "

The bright smile which had lighted up Henrietta's face went outinstantly. Absorbed in the happiness of the moment, she had forgottenevery thing; and these few words brought her back to the reality ofher position, and recalled to her the sufferings of the past and theuncertainty of the future. 

The good widow in the meantime assisted her in getting up; and theyspent the day together in the little parlor, busily cutting out andmaking up a black silk dress for which Papa Ravinet had brought thematerial in the morning, and which was to take the place of Henrietta'smiserable, worn-out, alpaca dress. When the young girl had first seenthe silk, she had remembered all the kind widow had told her of theirexcessive economy, and with difficulty only succeeded in checking hertears. 

"Why should you go to such an expense?" she had said very sadly. "Wouldnot a woollen dress have done quite as well? The hospitality which youoffer me must in itself be quite a heavy charge upon you. I should neverforgive myself for becoming a source of still greater privations to suchvery kind friends. "

But the old lady shook her head, and replied, --

"Don't be afraid, child. We have money enough. "

They had just lighted the lamp, when they heard a key in the outer door;and a moment later Papa Ravinet appeared. He was very red; and, althoughit was freezing outdoors, he was streaming with perspiration. 

"I am exhausted, " he said, sinking into, an armchair, and wiping hisforehead with his broad checkered handkerchief. "You cannot imagine howI have been running about to-day! I wanted to take an omnibus to comehome, but they were all full. "

Henrietta jumped up, and exclaimed, --

"You have been to see my father?"

"No, madam. A week ago already, Count Ville-Handry left his palace. "

A mad thought, the hope that her father might have separated from hiswife, crossed Henrietta's mind. 

"And the countess, " she asked, --"the Countess Sarah?"

"She has gone with her husband. They live in Peletier Street, in amodest apartment just above the office of the Pennsylvania PetroleumCompany. Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian are there also. They have only kepttwo servants, --Ernest, the count's valet, and a certain Clarissa. "

The name of the vile creature whose treachery had been one of theprincipal causes of Henrietta's misfortunes did not strike her ear. 

"How could my father ever be induced to leave his home?" she asked. 

"He sold it, madam, ten days ago. "

"Great God! My father must be ruined!"

The old man bowed his head. 

"Yes!"

Thus were the sad presentiments realized which she had felt when firstshe had heard Count Ville-Handry speak of the Pennsylvania PetroleumCompany. But never, oh, never! would she have imagined so sudden adownfall. 

"My father ruined!" she repeated, as if she were unable to realize theprecise meaning of these words. 

"And only a year ago he had more than a hundred thousand dollars a year. Six millions swallowed up in twelve months!--six millions!"

And as the enormous amount seemed to be out of all proportion to theshortness of time, she said, --

"It cannot be. You must be mistaken, sir; they have misled you. "

A smile of bitter irony passed over the old dealer's lips. He replied, as if much puzzled by Henrietta's doubts, --

"What, madam, you do not see yet? Alas! what I tell you is but too true;and, if you want proofs"--

He drew a newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Henrietta, pointingout to her on the first page an article marked with a red pencil. 

"There!" he said. 

It was one of those financial sheets which arise every now and then, andwhich profess to teach the art of becoming rich in a very short time, without running any risk. This paper bore a title calculated to reassureits readers. It was called "Prudence. " Henrietta read aloud, --

"We shall never tire repeating to our subscribers the words whichform our motto and our heading, 'Prudence, prudence! Do not trust newenterprises!'

"Out of a hundred enterprises which appear in the market, it may safelybe said that sixty are nothing but the simplest kind of wells, intowhich the capital of foolhardy speculators is sunk almost instantly. Out of the remaining forty, twenty-five may be looked upon as suspiciousenterprises, partaking too much of gambling speculations. Among the lastfifteen even, a careful choice must be made before we find out the fewthat present safe guarantees. "

The young girl paused, not understanding a word of all this stuff. Butthe old man said, --

"That is only the honey of the preface, the sweet syrup intended toconceal the bitterness of the medicine that is to follow. Go on, and youwill understand. "

She continued to read, --

"A recent event, we ought to say a recent disaster, has just confirmedour doctrines, and justifies but too clearly our admonition to becareful. 

"A company which started into existence last year with amazingsuddenness, which filled the whole world with its flamingadvertisements, crowding the newspapers, and decorating thestreet-corners, --a company which was most surely to enrich itsstockholders, is already no longer able to pay the interest on itspaid-up capital. 

"As to the capital itself--but we will not anticipate events. 

"All of our readers will have understood that we are speaking of theFranco-American Society of Pennsylvania Oil-Wells, which for the lasteight days has been the subject of universal excitement. 

"On 'Change the shares of a hundred dollars are quoted at 4-to-5. "

Blinding tears prevented Henrietta from going on. "Great God!" sheexclaimed. "O God!" Then, mastering her weakness, she began once more toread, --

"And yet if ever any company seemed to offer all the material andmoral guarantees which we can desire before risking our carefully savedearnings, this company presented them. 

"It had at its head a man who in his day was looked up to as a statesmanendowed with rare administrative talents, and whose reputation as a manof sterling integrity seemed to lie above all suspicion. 

"Need we say that this was the 'high and mighty Count Ville-Handry'?

"Hence they did not spare this great and noble name, but proclaimedit aloud on the housetops. It was the Count Ville-Handry here, and theCount Ville-Handry there. He was to bestow upon the country a new branchof industry. He was to change vile petroleum into precious gold. 

"It was especially brought into notice that the noble count's personalfortune was nearly equal to the whole capital of the new company, --tenmillions. Hence he was risking his own money rather than the money ofothers. 

"It is now a year since these dazzling promises were made. What remainsof them all? Shares, worth five dollars yesterday, worth, perhaps, nothing at all to-morrow, and a more than doubtful capital. 

"Who could have expected in our day a new edition of Law's MississippiScheme?"

The paper fell from the hands of the poor girl. She had turned as paleas death, and was staggering so, that Papa Ravinet's sister took her inher arms to support her. 

"Horrible, " she murmured; "this is horrible!" Still she had not yet readall. The old man picked up the paper, and read from another article, below the lines which carried poison in every word, the followingcomments:--

"Two delegates of the stockholders of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Companywere to sail this morning from Brest for New York. 

"These gentlemen have been sent out by their fellow-sufferers to examinethe lands on which the oil-wells are situated which constitute the onlysecurity of the shareholders. Certain people have gone so far as todoubt even the existence of such oil-wells. "

And in another place, under the head of local items:--

"The palace of Count Ville-Handry was sold last week. This magnificentbuilding, with the princely real estate belonging to it, was knockeddown to the highest bidder for the sum of one hundred and seventy-fivethousand dollars. The misfortune is, that house and lot are burdenedwith mortgages, which amount together to nearly a hundred thousanddollars. "

Henrietta was overcome, and had sunk into a chair. 

"But that is simply infamous, " she stammered out in an almost inaudibletone. "Nobody will believe such atrocious libels. "

Pale and deeply grieved, Papa Ravinet and his sister exchanged looks ofdistress. Evidently the poor girl did not at all realize the terriblenature of the circumstances. And yet, seeing her thus crushed, they didnot dare to enlighten her. At last the old dealer, knowing but toowell that uncertainty is more agonizing than the most painful reality, said, --

"Your father is fearfully calumniated. But I have tried to informmyself. Two facts are but too certain. Count Ville-Handry is ruined; andthe shares of the company of which he is the president have fallen tofive dollars, because"--

His voice changed, and he added in a very low tone, --

"Because it is believed that the capital of the company has beenappropriated to other purposes, and lost in speculations on 'Change. "

The poor old dealer was suffering intensely, and showed it. 

"Ah, madam, perfectly as I am convinced of Count Ville-Handry'suprightness and integrity, I also know that he was utterly ignorant ofbusiness. What did he understand of these speculations into which he wasdrawn? Nothing. It is a difficult and often a dangerous thing to managelarge capitals. They have no doubt deceived him, cheated him, misledhim, and driven him at last to the verge of bankruptcy. "

"Who?"

Papa Ravinet trembled on his chair, and, raising his hands to theceiling, exclaimed, --

"Who? You ask who? Why, those who had an interest in it, the wretches bywhom he was surrounded, --Sarah, Sir Thorn"--

Henrietta shook her head and said, --

"_I_ do not think the Countess Sarah looked with a favorable eye uponthe formation of this company. "

And, when objection was made, she went on, --

"Besides, what interest could she have in ruining my father? Evidentlynone. To ruin him was to ruin herself, since she was absolute mistressof her fortune, and free to dispose of it as she chose. "

Proud of the accuracy of her decision, she was looking triumphantly atthe old dealer. The latter saw now that he must strike a decisive blow;and his sister encouraged him by a gesture. He said, --

"Pray, listen to me, madam. So far I have only repeated to you thereport on 'Change. I told you: They say the capital of the PennsylvaniaPetroleum _Company_ has been swallowed up by unlucky speculations on'Change. But I do not believe these reports. I am, on the contrary, convinced, I am quite sure even, that these millions were not lost on'Change, because they never were used for the purpose of speculating. "

"Still"--

"Still they have disappeared, none the less; and your father isprobably the last man in the world to tell us how and where they havedisappeared. But I know it; and, when the question is raised how torecover these enormous sums, I shall cry out, 'Search Sarah Brandon, Countess Ville-Handry; search M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian; searchMaxime de Brevan, ' the wretched tool of these wicked women!"

Now at last a terrible light broke upon Henrietta's mind. 

"Then, " she stammered, "these infamous slanders are only put out toconceal an impudent robbery?"

"Yes. "

The young girl's face showed that she was making a great effort tocomprehend; and then she said again, --

"And in that case, the articles in the papers"--

"Were written by the wretches who have robbed your father, yes, madam!"And, shaking his fist with a threatening air, he added, --

"Oh! there is no mistaking it. Since when does this journal exist? Sinceabout six months ago. From the day on which it was established, it wasthe aim and purpose of the founders to publish in it the articles whichyou haven't read. "

Even if she could not well understand by what ingenious combinationssuch enormous sums could be abstracted, Henrietta was conquered by PapaRavinet's sincere and earnest conviction. 

"Then, " she went on, "these wretches who have robbed my father now meanto ruin him!"

"They must do it for their own safety. The money has been stolen, yousee; therefore there must be a thief. For the world, for the courts, theguilty one will be Count Ville-Handry. "

"For the courts?"

"Alas, yes!"

The poor girl's eyes went from the brother to the sister with a terribleexpression of bewilderment. At last she asked, --

"And do you believe Sarah will allow my father's name to be thusdishonored, --the name which she bears, and of which she was so proud?"

"She will, perhaps, even insist upon it. "

"Great God! What do you mean? Why should she?"

Seeing her brother's hesitation, the old lady took it upon herself toanswer. She touched the poor girl's arm, and said in a subdued voice, --

"Because, you see, my poor child, now that Sarah has gotten possessionof the fortune she wanted, your father is in her way; because, you see, she wants to be free--do you understand?--free!"

Henrietta uttered a cry of such horror that both the brother and thesister saw at once that she had not misunderstood the horrible meaningof that word "free. "

But, since the blow had fallen, the old dealer did not think the restneed be concealed from Henrietta. He got up, therefore, and, leaningagainst the mantlepiece, he addressed the poor girl, trembling in allher limbs with terror, and looking at him with a fixed and painful gaze, in these words, --

"You must at last learn to know, madam, the execrable woman who hassworn to ruin you. You see, I know, because I have experienced itmyself, of what crimes she is capable; and I see clear in the dark nightof her infernal intrigues. I know that this woman with the chaste brow, the open smile, and the soft eyes, has the genius and the instinct of amurderess, and has never counted upon any thing else, but murder for thegratification of her lusts. "

The attitude of the old man, who raised his head on high while hisbreast swelled, breathed in every one of his sharp and threateninggestures an intense thirst of vengeance. He no longer measured his wordscarefully; and they overflowed from his lips as they came boiling upunder the pressure of his rage. 

"Anthony!" said the old lady more than once, --"Anthony, brother! Ibeseech you!"

But this friendly voice, ordinarily all-powerful, was not even heard byhim now. He went on, --

"And now, madam, must I still explain to you the simple and yetformidable plan by which Sarah Brandon has succeeded in obtaining by oneeffort the immense fortune of the Ville-Handry family? From the firstday, she has seen that you were standing between her and those millions;therefore she attacked you first of all. A brave and honest man, M. Daniel Champcey, loved you; he would have protected you; therefore shegot him out of the way. The world might have become interested in you, might have taken your side; she beguiled your father, in his blindpassion, to calumniate you, to ruin your reputation, and to expose youto the contempt of the world. Still you might have wished to securea protector, you might have found one. She placed by your side herwretched tool, her spy, a forger, a criminal whom she knew to be ableof doing things from which even an accomplished galley-slave would haveshrunk with disgust and horror: I mean Maxime de Brevan. "

The very excess, of eruption had restored a part of her energy toHenrietta. She said, therefore, --

"Alas, _sir_! have I not told you, on, the contrary, that Daniel himselfhad confided me to the care of M. De Brevan? Have I not told you"--

The old dealer smiled almost contemptuously, and then continued, --

"What does that prove? Nothing but the skill of M. De Brevan in carryingout Sarah Brandon's orders. In order to get the more completely themastery over you, he began by obtaining the mastery over M. Champcey. How he succeeded in doing this, I do not know. But we shall know it whenwe want to know it; for we are going to find out every thing. Thus Sarahwas, through M. De Brevan, kept informed of all your thoughts, of allyour hopes, of _every_ word you wrote to M. Champcey, and of all he saidin reply; for you need not doubt he did answer, and they suppressed theletters, just as they, very probably, intercepted all of your letterswhich you did not yourself carry to the post-office. Still, as long asyou were living under your father's roof, Sarah could do nothing againstyour life. She resolved, therefore, to force you to flee; and those meanpersecutions of M. Elgin served their purpose. You thought, and perhaps, they think, that bandit really wanted your hand. Undeceive yourself. Your enemies knew your character too well to hope that you would everbreak your word, and become faithless to M. Champcey. But they were bentupon handing you over to M. De Brevan. And thus, poor child! you werehanded over to him. Maxime had as little idea of marrying you as SirThomas; he was quite prepared, when he dared to approach you with openarms, to be rejected with disgust. But he had received orders to addthe horror of his persecutions to the horror of your isolation and yourdestitution. 

"For he was quite sure, the scoundrel! that the secret of yoursufferings would be well kept. He had carefully chosen the house inwhich you were to die of hunger and misery. The two Chevassats werebound to be his devoted accomplices, even unto death. This is what gavehim the amazing boldness, the inconceivable brutality, to watch yourslow agony; no doubt he became quite impatient at your delaying suicideso long. 

"Finally you were driven to it; and your death would have realized theiratrocious hopes, if Providence had not miraculously stepped in, --thatProvidence which always, sooner or later, takes its revenge, whateverthe wicked may say to the contrary. Yes, these wretches thought theyhad now surely gotten rid of you, when I came in. That very morning, thewoman Chevassat had told them, no doubt, 'She'll do it to-night!' Andthat evening, Sarah, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin asked, no doubt, full ofhope, 'Is it all over?'"

Immovable, and white as marble, her eyes dilated beyond measure, and herlips half-open, poor Henrietta listened. She felt as if a bright rayof the sun had suddenly illumined the darkest depths of the abyss fromwhich she had been barely snatched. 

"Yes, " she said, "yes; now I see it all. "

Then, as the old dealer, out of breath, and his voice hoarse withindignation, paused a moment, she asked, --

"Still there is one circumstance which I cannot understand: Sarahinsists upon it that she knew nothing of the forged letter by means ofwhich Daniel was sent abroad. She told me, on the contrary, that she hadwished to keep him here, because she loved him, and he loved her. "

"Ah! do not believe a word of those infamous stories, " broke in PapaRavinet's sister. 

But the old man scratched his head, and said, --

"No, certainly not! We ought not to believe such stories. And yet, Iwonder if there is not some new trick in that. Unless, indeed--But no, that would be almost too lucky for us! Unless Sarah should really loveM. Champcey!"

And, as if he was afraid of having given rise to hopes which he foundedupon this contingency, he added at once, --

"But let us return to facts. When Sarah was sure of you, she turnedher attention to your father. While they were murdering you slowly, sheabused the inexperience of Count Ville-Handry to lead him into a pathat the end of which he could not but leave his honor behind him. Notice, pray, that the articles which you read are dated on the very day onwhich you would probably have died. That is a clear evidence of hercrime. Thinking that she had gotten rid of you, she evidently said toherself, 'And now for the father. '"

Henrietta grew red in her face, as if a jet of fire had blazed up in it. She exclaimed, --

"Great God! The proofs are coming out; the crime will be disclosed. I have no doubt the assassins told each other that Count Ville-Handrywould never survive such a foul stain on his honor. And they dared all, sure as they were that that honorable man would carry the secret oftheir wickedness and of their unheard-of robbery with him to the grave. "

Papa Ravinet leisurely wiped the perspiration from his brow. Then hereplied in a hoarse voice, --

"Yes, that was probably, that was assuredly, the way Sarah Brandonreasoned within herself. "

But Henrietta, full of admirable energy, had roused herself; and, withflushed cheeks and burning eyes, she said to him, --

"What! you knew all this? You knew that they were assassinating myfather, and you did not warn him? Ah, that was cruel cautiousness!"

And quick like lightning she dashed forward, and would have rushed out, if the old lady had not promptly stepped in front of the door, saying, --

"Henrietta, poor child! where are you going?"

"To save my father, madam, who, perhaps at this very moment isstruggling in the last agonies of death, as I was struggling in likemanner only two nights ago. "

Quite beside herself, she had clasped the knob of the door in her hands, and tried with all the strength she still possessed to move the old ladyout of the way. But Papa Ravinet seized her by the arm, and said to hersolemnly, --

"Madam, I swear to you by all you hold sacred, and my sister will swearto you in like manner, that your father's life is in no kind of danger. "

She gave up the struggle; but her face bore the expression of the mostharassing anxiety. The old man continued, --

"Do you wish to defeat our triumph? Would you like to give warning toour enemies, to put _them_ on their guard, and to deprive us of allhopes of revenge?"

Henrietta almost mechanically passed her hand to and fro across herbrow, as if she hoped she could thus restore peace to her mind. 

"And mind, " continued the old man with a persuasive voice, "mind thatsuch imprudence would save our enemies, but would not save your father. Pray consider and answer me. Do you really think that your argumentswould be stronger than Sarah Brandon's? You cannot so far underratethe diabolical cunning of your enemy. Why, she has no doubt taken allpossible measures to keep your father's faith in her unshaken, and tolet him die as he has lived, completely deceived by her, and murmuringwith his last breath words of supreme love for her who kills him. "

These arguments were so overwhelming, that Henrietta let go the door-knob, and slowly went back to her seat by the fire. And yet she was farfrom being reassured. 

"If I were to appeal to the police, " she suddenly proposed. 

The old lady had come and taken a seat by Henrietta's side. She took herhands in her own now, and said, gently, --

"Poor child! Do you not see that the whole power of this abominablecreature lies in the fact that she employs means which are not withinthe reach of human justice. Believe me, my child, it is best for you torely blindly on my brother. "

Once more the old dealer had come up to the mantlepiece. He repeated, --

"Yes, Miss Henrietta, rely on me. I have as much reason to curse SarahBrandon as you have, and perhaps I hate her more. Rely on me; for myhatred has now been watching and waiting for years, ever anxious toreach her, and to avenge my sufferings. Yes, for long years I have beenlying in wait, thirsting for vengeance, lost in darkness, but pursuingher tracks with the unwearied perseverance of the Indian. For thepurpose of finding out who she is, and who her accomplices are, whence they came, and how they have met to plot together such fearfulcrimes, --for that purpose I have walked in the deepest mud, and stirredup heaps of infamy. But I have found out all. And yet in the whole lifeof Sarah Brandon, --a life of theft and murder, --I have till this momentnot found a single fact which would bring her within the reach of thelaw, so cunning is her wickedness. "

His face brightened with an air of triumph; and his voice rose high ashe added, --

"But now! This time success seemed to her so sure and so easy, that shehas neglected her usual precautions. Eager to enjoy her millions, and, in proportion, weary of playing a comedy of love with your father, shehas been too eager. And she is lost if we, on our side, are not also tooeager. 

"As to your father, madam, I have my reasons for feeling safe about him. According to your mother's marriage contract, and in consequence ofa bequest of a million and a half which were left her by one of heruncles, your father's estate is your debtor to the amount of twomillions; and that sum is invested in mortgages on his estates in Anjou. That sum he cannot touch, even if he is bankrupt. Should he die beforeyou, that sum remains still yours; but, if you die before him, it goesto him. Now Sarah has sworn, in her insatiate cupidity, that she willhave these two millions also. "

"Ah, " said Henrietta, "you are right! It is Sarah's interest that myfather should live; and he will live, therefore, as long as she does notknow whether I am dead or alive, in fact, as long as she does not knowwhat has become of me. "

"And she must not know that for some time, " chimed in the old man. 

Then laughing his odd, silent laugh, --

"You ought to see the anxiety of your enemies since you have slippedout of their hands. That woman Chevassat had, last night, come tothe conclusion that you were gone, and gone forever; but this morningmatters looked very differently. Maxime de Brevan had been there, makinga terrible row, and beating her (God forgive him!) because she hadrelaxed in her watchfulness. The rascal! The fellow has been spendingthe whole day in running from the police office to the Morgue, and backagain. Destitute as you were, and almost without clothes, what couldhave become of you? I, for my part, did not show; and the Chevassats arefar from suspecting that I had any thing to do with the wholeaffair. Ah! It will soon be our turn, and if you will only accept mysuggestions, madam"--

It was past nine o'clock when the old dealer, his sister, and Henriettasat down to their modest meal. But in the interval a hopeful smile hadreappeared on Henrietta's face, and she looked almost happy, when, aboutmidnight, Papa Ravinet left them with the words, --

"To-morrow evening I shall have news. I am going to the navydepartment. "

The next day he reappeared precisely at six o'clock, but in what acondition! He had in his hand a kind of carpet-bag; and his looks andgestures made him look almost insane. 

"Money!" he cried out to his sister as he entered. "I am afraid I havenot enough; and make haste. I have to be at the Lyons Railway at seveno'clock. "

And when his sister and Henrietta, terribly frightened, asked him, --

"What is the matter? What are you going to do?"

"Nothing, " he replied joyously, "but that Heaven itself declares in ourfavor. I went to the department. 'The Conquest' will remain another yearin Cochin China; but M. Champcey is coming back to Europe. He was tohave taken passage on board a merchant vessel, 'The Saint Louis, ' whichis expected in Marseilles every day, if she has not already come in. AndI--I am going to Marseilles, I must see M. Champcey before anybody elsecan see him. "

When his sister had given him notes to the amount of four hundreddollars, he rushed out, exclaiming, --

"To-morrow I will send you a telegram!"

XXII. 

If there is in our civilized states a profession more arduous thanothers it is surely that of the sailor. So arduous is it, that we arealmost disposed to ask how men can be found bold enough to embrace _it_, and firm enough in their resolution not to abandon it after having triedit. Not because of the hazards, the fatigues, and the dangers connectedwith it, but because it creates an existence apart, and because theconditions it imposes seem to be incompatible with free will. 

Still no one is more attached to his home than the sailor. There are fewamong them who are not married. And by a kind of special grace theyare apt to enjoy their short happiness as if it were for eternity, indifferent as to what the morning may bring. 

But behold! one fine morning, all of a sudden, a big letter comes fromthe department. 

It is an order to sail. 

He must go, abandoning every thing and everybody, --mother, family, andfriends, the wife he has married the day before, the young mother whosits smiling by the cradle of her first-born, the betrothed who waslooking joyfully at her bridal veil. He must go, and stifle all thoseominous voices which rise from the depth of his heart, and say to him, "Will you ever return? and, if you return, will you find them all, yourdear ones? and, if you find them, will they not have changed? will theyhave preserved your memory as faithfully as you have preserved theirs?"

To be happy, and to be compelled to open to mishap this fatal door, absence! Hence it is only in comic operas, and inferior novels, that thesailors are seen to sing their most cheerful songs at the moment when avessel is about to sail on a long and perilous voyage. The moment is, inreality, always a sad one, very grave and solemn. 

Such could not fail to be the scene also, when "The Conquest"sailed, --the ship on board of which Daniel Champcey had been ordered aslieutenant. And certainly there had been good reasons for ordering himto make haste and get down to the port where she lay; for the very nextday after his arrival, she hoisted anchor. She had been waiting for himonly. 

Having reached Rochefort at five o'clock in the morning, he slept thesame night on board; and the next day "The Conquest" sailed. Danielsuffered more than any other man on board, although he succeeded inaffecting a certain air of indifference. The thought of Henrietta beingleft in the hands of adventurers who were capable of any thing wasa thorn in his side, which caused him great and constant pain. As hegradually calmed down, and peace returned to his mind, a thousand doubtsassailed him concerning Maxime de Brevan: would he not be exposed toterrible temptation when he found himself thrown daily into the companyof a great heiress? Might he not come to covet her millions, and try toabuse her peculiar situation in order to secure them to himself?

Daniel believed too firmly in his betrothed to apprehend that she wouldeven listen to Brevan. But he reasoned, very justly, that his darlingwould be in a desperate condition indeed, if M. De Brevan, furious atbeing refused, should betray his confidence, and go over to the enemy, to the Countess Sarah. 

"And I, " he thought, "who in my last directions urged her to trustimplicitly in Maxime, and to follow his advice as if it were my own!"

In the midst of these terrible anxieties, he hardly recollected thathe had intrusted to Maxime every thing that he possessed. What was hismoney to him in comparison!

Thus it appeared to him a genuine favor of Providence when "TheConquest, " six days out at sea, experienced a violent storm, whichendangered her safety for nearly seventy-two hours. His thoughtsdisappeared while he felt his grave responsibility, as long as the seatossed the vessel to and fro like a mere cork, and while the crew foughtwith the elements till they were overcome by fatigue. He had actually agood night's rest, which he had not enjoyed since he left Paris. 

When he awoke, he was surprised to feel a certain peace of mind. Henceforth his fate was no longer in his own hands; he had been shownvery clearly his inability to control events. Sad resignation succeededto his terrible anxiety. 

A single hope now kept him alive, --the hope of soon receiving a letterfrom Henrietta, or, it might be, of finding one upon arriving at hisdestination; for it was by no means impossible for "The Conquest" to beoutstripped by some vessel that might have left port three weeks later. "The Conquest, " an old wooden frigate, and a sailing vessel, justifiedher bad reputation of being the worst sailor in the whole fleet. Moreover, alternate calms and sudden blows kept her much longer thanusually on the way. The oldest sailors said they had never seen a moretedious voyage. 

To add to the discomfort, "The Conquest" was so crammed full withpassengers, that sailors and officers had hardly half of the spaceusually allotted to them on board ship. Besides the crew, there were onboard a half battalion of marines, and a hundred and sixty mechanics ofvarious trades, whom government sent out for the use of the colony. Someof these artisans had their families with them, having determined tobecome settlers in Cochin China; others, generally quite young yet, only made the voyage in order to have an opportunity for seeing foreignlands, and for earning, perhaps, a little money. They were occasionallycalled upon to assist in handling the ship, and were, on the whole, goodmen, with the exception of four or five, who were so unruly that theyhad to be put in irons more than once. 

The days passed, nevertheless; and "The Conquest" had been out threemonths, when one afternoon, as Daniel was superintending a difficultmanoeuvre, he was suddenly seen to stagger, raise his arms on high, andfall backwards on the deck. 

They ran up to him, and raised him up; but he gave no sign of life; andthe blood poured forth from his mouth and nose in streams. Daniel hadwon the hearts of the crew by his even temper, his strict attention toduty, and his kindness, when off duty, to all who came in contact withhim. Hence, when the accident became known, in an instant sailors andofficers came hurrying up from one end of the frigate to the other, andeven from the lowest deck, to see what had happened to him. 

What had happened? No one could tell; for no one had seen any thing. Still it must be a very grave matter, to judge from the large pool ofblood which dyed the deck at the place where the young man had fallendown so suddenly. They had carried him to the infirmary; and, as soon ashe recovered his senses, the surgeons discovered the cause of his falland his fainting. 

He had an enormous contused wound on the back of his head, a littlebehind the left ear, --a wound such as a heavy hammer in the hands of apowerful man might have produced. Whence came this terrible blow, whichapparently a miracle alone had prevented from crushing the skull? Noone could explain this, neither the surgeons, nor the officers who stoodaround the bed of the wounded man. When Daniel could be questioned, heknew no more about it than the others. There had been no one standingnear him; nor had he seen anybody come near him at the time of theaccident; the blow, moreover, had been so violent, that he had fallendown unconscious. All these details soon became current among thesailors and passengers who had crowded on deck. They were received withincredulous smiles, and, when they could no longer be held in doubt, with bursts of indignation. 

What! Lieut. Champcey had been struck in broad daylight, in the midst ofthe crew! How? By whom?

The whole matter was so wrapped up in mystery, that it became allimportant to clear it up; and the sailors themselves opened at once akind of court of inquest. Some hairs, and a clot of blood, which werediscovered on an enormous block, seemed to explain the riddle. It wouldseem that the rope to which this enormous block was fastened had slippedout of the hands of one of the sailors who were engaged in the rigging, carrying out the manoeuvre superintended by Daniel. 

Frightened by the consequences of his awkwardness, but, neverthelesspreserving his presence of mind, this man had, no doubt, drawn up theblock so promptly, that he had not been noticed. Could it be hoped thathe would accuse himself? Evidently not. Besides, what would be the useof it? The wounded man was the first to request that the inquiries mightbe stopped. 

When, at the end of a fortnight, Champcey returned to duty, they ceasedtalking of the accident; unfortunately, such things happen but toofrequently on board ship. Besides, the idea that "The Conquest" wasdrawing near her destination filled all minds, and sufficed for allconversations. 

And really, one fine evening, as the sun was setting, land was seen, andthe next morning, at daybreak, the frigate sailed into the Dong-Nai, the king of Cochin Chinese rivers, which is so wide and so deep, thatvessels of the largest tonnage can ascend it without difficulty tillthey reach Saigon. 

Standing on deck, Daniel watched the monotonous scenes which theypassed, --a landscape strange in form, and exhaling mortal fevers fromthe soil, and the black yielding slime. 

After a voyage of several months, he derived a melancholy pleasure fromseeing the banks of the river overshadowed by mango trees and mangroves, with their supple, snakelike roots wandering far off under water; whileon shore a soft, pleasant vegetation presented to the eye the wholerange of shades in green, from the bluish, sickly green of the idrysto the dark, metallic green of the stenia. Farther inland, tall grapes, lianes, aloes, and cactus formed impenetrable thickets, out of whichrose, like fluted columns, gigantic cocoa-palms, and the most gracefultrees on earth, areca-palms. Through clearings here and there, one couldfollow, as far as the eye reached, the course of low, fever-breedingmarshes, an immense mud-plain covered with a carpet of undulatingverdure, which opened and closed again under the breeze, like the seaitself. 

"Ah! That is Saigon, is it?" said to Daniel a voice full of delight. 

He turned round. It was his best friend on board, a lieutenant likehimself, who had come to his side, and, offering him a telescope, saidwith a great sigh of satisfaction, --

"Look! there, do you see? At last we are here. In two hours, Champcey, we shall be at anchor. "

In the distance one could, in fact, make out upon the deep blue of thesky the profile of the curved roof of the pagodas in Saigon. It took along hour yet, before, at a turn in the river, the town itself appeared, miserable looking, --with all deference to our geographies, be itsaid, --in spite of the immense labor of the French colony. 

Saigon consists mainly of one wide street running parallel with theright bank of the Dong-Nai, a primitive, unpaved street cut up intoruts, broken in upon by large empty spaces, and lined with wooden housescovered with rice-straw or palm-leaves. 

Thousands of boats crowd against the banks of the river along thisstreet, and form a kind of floating suburb, overflowing with a strangemedley of Annamites, Hindoos, and Chinamen. At a little distance fromthe river, there appear a few massive buildings with roofs of red tiles, pleasing to the eye, and here and there an Annamite farm, which seemsto hide behind groups of areca-palms. Finally, on an eminence, rise thecitadel, the arsenal, the house of the French commander, and the formerdwelling of the Spanish colonel. 

But every town is beautiful, where we land after a voyage of severalmonths. Hence, as soon as "The Conquest" was safely at anchor, all theofficers, except the midshipman on duty, went on shore, and hastenedto the government house to ask if letters from France had arrived therebefore them. Their hopes were not deceived. Two three-masters, oneFrench, the other English, which had sailed a month later than "TheConquest, " had arrived there at the beginning of the week, bringingdespatches. 

There were two letters for Daniel, and with feverish hands and beatingheart he took them from the hand of the old clerk. But at the firstglance at the addresses he turned pale. He did not see Henrietta'shandwriting. Still he tore open the envelopes, and glanced at thesignatures. One of the letters was signed, "Maxime de Brevan;" theother, "Countess Ville-Handry, " _nee_ Sarah Brandon. 

Daniel commenced with the latter. After informing him of her marriage, Sarah described at great length Henrietta's conduct on the wedding-day. 

"Any other but myself, " she said, "would have been incensed at thisatrocious insult, and would abuse her position to be avenged. But I, whonever yet forgave anybody, I will forgive her, Daniel, for your sake, and because I cannot see any one suffer who has loved you. "

A postscript she had added ran thus, --

"Ah! why did you not prevent my marriage, when you could do so by aword? They think I have reached the summit of my wishes. I have neverbeen more wretched. "

This letter made Daniel utter an exclamation of rage. He saw nothing init but bitter irony. 

"This miserable woman, " he thought, "laughs at me; and, when she saysshe does not blame Henrietta, that means that she hates her, and willpersecute her. "

Maxime's letter fortunately reassured him a little. Maxime confirmedSarah's account, adding, moreover, that Miss Henrietta was very sad, but calm and resigned; and that her step-mother treated her with thegreatest kindness. The surprising part was, that Brevan did not say aword of the large amounts that had been intrusted to his care, nor ofhis method of selling the lands, nor of the price which he had obtained. 

But Daniel did not notice this; all his thoughts were with Henrietta. 

"Why should she not have written, " he thought, "when all the othersfound means to write?"

Overwhelmed with disappointment, he had sat down on a wooden bench inthe embrasure of one of the windows in the hall where the letters weredistributed. Travelling across the vast distance which separated himfrom France, his thoughts were under the trees in the garden of thecount's palace. He felt as if a powerful effort of his will would enablehim to transport himself thither. By the pale light of the moon hethought he could discern the dress of his beloved as she stole towardshim between the old trees. 

A friendly touch on the shoulder recalled him rudely to the real world. Four or five officers from "The Conquest" were standing around him, gay, and free from cares, a hearty laugh on their lips. 

"Well, my dear Champcey, " they said, "are you coming?"

"Where?"

"Why, to dinner!"

And as he looked at them with the air of a man who had just been roused, and has not had time to collect his thoughts, they went on, --

"Well, to dinner. It appears Saigon possesses an admirable Frenchrestaurant, where the cook, a Parisian, is simply a great artist. Come, get up, and let us go. "

But Daniel was in a humor which made solitude irresistibly attractive. He trembled at the idea of being torn from his melancholy reveries, ofbeing compelled to take his part in conversation, to talk, to listen, toreply. 

"I cannot dine with you to-day, my friends, " he said to his comrades. 

"You are joking. "

"No, I am not. I must return on board. " Then only, the others werestruck by the sad expression of his face; and, changing their tone, theyasked him in the most affectionate manner, --

"What is the matter, Champcey? Have you heard of any misfortune, anydeath?"

"No. "

"You have had letters from France, I see. "

"They bring me nothing sad. I was expecting news, and they have notcome; that is all. "

"Oh! then you must come with us. "

"Do not force me; I would be a sorry companion. "

Still they insisted, as friends will insist who will not understand thatothers may not be equally tempted by what charms them; but nothing couldinduce Daniel to change his mind. At the door of the government house heparted with his comrades, and went back, sad and solitary, towards theharbor. 

He reached without difficulty the banks of the Dong-Nai; but hereobstacles presented themselves of which he had not thought. The nightwas so dark, that he could hardly see to find his way along a wharf inprocess of construction, and covered with enormous stones and timber. Not a light in all the native huts around. In spite of his efforts topierce this darkness, he could discern nothing but the dark outlineof the vessels lying at anchor in the river, and the light of thelighthouse as it trembled in the current. 

He called. No voice replied. The silence, which was as deep as thedarkness, was broken only by the low wash of the river as it flowed downrapidly. 

"I am quite capable, " thought Daniel, "of not finding the boat of 'TheConquest. '"

Still he did find it, after long search, drawn up, and half lost, in acrowd of native boats. But the boat seemed to be empty. It was only whenhe got into it, that he discovered a little midshipman fast asleep inthe bottom, wrapped up in a carpet which was used to cover the seatsfor the officers. Daniel shook him. He rose slowly, and grumbling, as ifovercome by sleep. 

"Well, what is the matter?" he growled. 

"Where are the men?" asked Daniel. 

Quite awake now, the midshipman, who had good eyes, had noticed, inspite of the darkness, the gold of the epaulets. This made him veryrespectful at once; and he replied, --

"Lieutenant, all the men are in town. "

"How so? All?"

"Why, yes, lieutenant! When all the officers had gone on shore, theytold the boatswain they would not come back very soon, and he might takehis time to eat a mouthful, and to drink a glass, provided the men didnot get drunk. "

That was so; and Daniel had forgotten the fact. 

"And where did they go?" he asked. 

"I don't know, lieutenant. "

Daniel looked at the large, heavy boat, as if he had thought for amoment to return in it to "The Conquest" with no other help but thelittle midshipman; but, no, that was impracticable. 

"Well, go to sleep again, " he said to the boy. 

And jumping on shore, without uttering a word of disappointment, he wasgoing in search of his comrades, when he saw suddenly a man turn up outof the darkness, whose features it was impossible to distinguish. 

"Who is there?" he asked. 

"Mr. Officer, " answered the man in an almost unintelligible jargon, ahorrible medley of French, Spanish, and English. "I heard you tell thelittle man in the boat there"--

"Well?"

"I thought you wanted to get back on board your ship?"

"Why, yes. "

"Well, then, if you like it, I am a boatman; I can take you over. "

There was no reason why Daniel should mistrust the man. In all ports ofthe world, and at any hour of the day or the night, men are to be foundwho are lying in wait on the wharves for sailors who have been belated, and who are made to pay dear for such extra services. 

"Ah! you are a boatman, you say?" Daniel exclaimed, quite pleased at theencounter. "Well, where is your boat?"

"There, Mr. Officer, a little way down; just follow me. But what ship doyou want to go to?"

"That ship there. "

And Daniel pointed out to him "The Conquest" as she lay not six hundredyards off in the river, showing her lights. 

"That is rather far, " grumbled the man; "the tide is low; and thecurrent is very strong. "

"I'll give you a couple of francs for your trouble. "

The man clapped his hands with delight, and said, --

"Ah! if that's the way, all right. Come along, Mr. Officer, a littlefarther down. There, that's my boat. Get in, now steady!"

Daniel followed his directions; but he was so much struck by the man'sawkwardness in getting the boat off, that he could not help saying tohim, --

"Ah, my boy, you are not a boatman, after all!"

"I beg pardon, sir; I used to be one before I came to this country. "

"What is your country?"

"Shanghai. "

"Nevertheless, you will have to learn a great deal before you will everbe a sailor. "

Still, as the boat was very small, a mere nutshell, in fact, Danielthought he could, if needs be, take an oar himself. Thereupon, sittingdown, and stretching out his legs, he was soon once more plunged inmeditations. The unfortunate man was soon roused, however, by a terriblesensation. 

Thanks to a shock, a wrong movement, or any other accident, the boatupset, and Daniel was thrown into the river; and, to fill the measure ofhis mishaps, one of his feet was so closely jammed in between the seatand the boat itself, that he was paralyzed in his movements, and soonunder water. 

He saw it all in an instant; and his first thought was, --

"I am lost!"

But, desperate as his position was, he was not the man to give up. Gathering, by one supreme effort, all his strength and energy, he tookhold of the boat, that had turned over just above him, and pushed it soforcibly, that he loosened his foot, and at the same moment reached thesurface. It was high time; for Daniel had swallowed much water. 

"Now, " he thought, "I have a chance to escape!"

A very frail chance, alas!--so small a chance, in fact, that it requiredall the strong will and the invincible courage of Daniel to give itany effect. A furious current carried him down like a straw; the littleboat, which might have supported him, had disappeared; and he knewnothing about this formidable Dong-Nai, except that it went on wideningto its mouth. There was nothing to guide him; for the night was so dark, that land and water, the river and its banks, all melted together in theuniform, bottomless darkness. 

What had become of the boatman, however? At all events, he called, --

"Ahoy, my man!"

No answer. Had he been swept off? Or did he get back into the boat?Perhaps he was drowned already. 

But all of a sudden Daniel's heart trembled with joy and hope. He hadjust made out, a few hundred yards below, a red light, indicating avessel at anchor. All his efforts were directed towards that point. He was carried thither with an almost bewildering rapidity. He nearlytouched it; and then, with incredible presence of mind, and greatprecision, at the moment when the current drove him close up to theanchor-chain, he seized it. He held on to it; and, having recovered hisbreath, he uttered three times in succession, with all the strength ofhis lungs, so sharp a cry, that it was heard above the fierce roar ofthe river, --

"Help, help, help!"

From the ship came a call, "Hold on!" proving to him that his appeal hadbeen heard, and that help was at hand. 

Too late! An eddy in the terrible current seized him, and, withirresistible violence, tore the chain, slippery with mud, out of hisstiffened hands. Rolled over by the waters, he was rudely thrown againstthe side of the vessel, went under, and was carried off. 

When he rose to the surface, the red light was far above him, and belowno other light was in sight. No human help was henceforth within reach. Daniel could now count only upon himself in trying to make one of thebanks. Although he could not measure the distance, which might be verygreat, the task did not seem to him beyond his strength, if he had onlybeen naked. But his clothes encumbered him terribly; and the water whichthey soaked up made them, of course, every moment more oppressive. 

"I shall be drowned, most assuredly, " he thought, "if I cannot get ridof my clothes. "

Excellent swimmer as he was, the task was no easy one. Still heaccomplished it. After prodigious efforts of strength and skill, he gotrid of his shoes; and then he cried out, as if in defiance of the blindelement against which he was struggling, --

"I shall pull through! I shall see Henrietta again!"

But it had cost him an enormous amount of time to undress; and how couldhe calculate the distance which this current had taken him down--one ofthe swiftest in the world? As he tried to recall all he knew about it, he remembered having noticed that, a mile below Saigon, the river wasas wide as a branch of the sea. According to his calculation, he must benear that spot now. 

"Never mind, " he said to himself, "I mean to get out of this. "

Not knowing to which bank he was nearest, he had resolved, almostinstinctively, to swim towards the right bank, on which Saigon stands. 

He was thus swimming for about half an hour, and began already to feelhis muscles stiffening, and his joints losing their elasticity, whilehis breathing became oppressed, and his extremities were chilled, whenhe noticed from the wash of the water that he was near the shore. Soonhe felt the ground under his feet; but, the moment he touched it, hesank up to his waist into the viscous and tenacious slime, which makesall the Cochin China rivers so peculiarly dangerous. 

There was the land, no doubt, and only the darkness prevented his seeingit; and yet his situation was more desperate than ever. His legs werecaught as in a vice; the muddy water was boiling nearly up to his lips;and, at every effort to extricate himself, he sank deeper in, a littleat a time, but always a little more. His presence of mind now began toleave him, as well as his strength; and his thoughts became confused, when he touched, instinctively feeling for a hold, the root of amangrove. 

That root might be the saving of his life. First he tried its strength;then, finding it sufficiently solid, he hoisted himself up by it, gently, but with the frenzied energy of a drowning man; then, creepingcautiously on the treacherous mud, he finally succeeded in reaching firmground, and fell down exhausted. 

He was saved from drowning; but what was to become of him, naked, exhausted, chilled as he was, and lost in this dark night in a strangeand deserted country? After a moment, however, he rose, and tried to geton; but at every step he was held back on all sides by lianes and cactusthorns. 

"Well, " he said, "I must stay here till day breaks. "

The rest of the night he spent in walking up and down, and beating hischest, in order to keep out the terrible chills which penetrated to thevery marrow of his bones. The first light of dawn showed him how he wasimprisoned within an apparently impenetrable thicket, out of which, itseemed, he could never find his way. He did find it, however, and aftera walk of four hours, he reached Saigon. 

Some sailors of a merchant-ship, whom he met, lent him a few clothes, and carried him on board "The Conquest, " where he arrived more dead thanalive. 

"Where do you come from, great God! in such a state?" exclaimed hiscomrades when they saw him. 

"What has happened to you?"

And, when he had told them all he had gone through since they parted, they said, --

"Certainly, my dear Champcey, you are a lucky fellow. This is the secondaccident from which you escape as by a miracle. Mind the third!"

"Mind the third!" that was exactly what Daniel thought. 

For, in the midst of all the frightful sufferings he had undergoneduring the past night, he had reflected deeply. That block which hadfallen on his head, no one knew whence; this boat sinking suddenly, andwithout apparent cause--were they the work of chance alone?

The awkwardness of the boatman who had so unexpectedly turned up tooffer him his services had filled his mind with strange doubts. Thisman, a wretched sailor, might be a first-class swimmer; and, havingtaken all his measures before upsetting the boat, he might easily havereached land after the accident. 

"This boatman, " Daniel thought, "evidently wanted me to perish. Why, andwhat purpose? Evidently not for his sake. But who is interested in mydeath? Sarah Brandon? No, that cannot be!"

What was still less likely was, that a wretch in Sarah Brandon's payshould have found his way on board "The Conquest, " and should then havebeen precisely at the right moment at the wharf, the first time Danielwent on shore. Still his suspicions troubled him to such a degree, thathe determined to make every effort to solve the mystery. 

To begin, _he asked_ for a list of all the men who had been allowed togo on shore the night before. He learned in reply, that only the crewsof the different boats had been at Saigon, but that all the emigrantshaving been allowed to land, several of these men had also gone onshore. With this information, and in spite of his great weakness, Danielwent to the chief of police at Saigon, and asked him for an officer. With this agent he went to the wharf, to the spot where the boat of"The Conquest" had been lying the night before, and asked him to makeinquiries there as to any boatman that might have disappeared during thenight. 

None of the boatmen was missing; but they brought Daniel a poor Annamitefellow, who had been wandering about the river-bank ever since earlymorning, tearing his hair, and crying that he had been robbed; thatthey had stolen his boat. Daniel had been unable the night before todistinguish the form or the dress of the man whose services he hadaccepted; but he had heard his voice, and he recalled the peculiarintonation so perfectly, that he would have recognized it amongthousands. Besides, this poor devil did not know a word of French (morethan ten persons bore witness to it); and born on the river, and havingalways lived there, he was an excellent sailor. Finally, it was veryclear, that, if this man had committed the crime, he would have beencareful not to claim his boat. 

What could Daniel conclude from this summary inquiry?

"There is no doubt about it, " he thought. "I was to be murdered. "

XXIII. 

There is no man, however brave he may think himself, who would nottremble at the idea that he has, just by a miracle, escaped from theassassin's hand. There is not one who would not feel his blood growchill in his veins at the thought that those who have failed in theirattempt once will no doubt renew their efforts, and that perhaps themiracle may not be repeated. 

That was Daniel's position. 

He felt henceforth this terrible certainty, that war had been declaredagainst him, a savage warfare, merciless, pitiless, a war of treacheryand cunning, of snare and ambush. It had been proved to him that at hisside, so to say, as his very shadow, there was ever a terrible enemy, stimulated by the thirst of gain, watching all his steps, ever awake andon the watch, and ready to seize the first opportunity to strike. Theinfernal cunning of the first two attempts enabled Daniel to measurethe superior wickedness of the man who had been chosen and enlisted--atleast Daniel thought so--by Sarah Brandon. 

Still he did not say a word of the danger to which he was exposed, and even assumed, as soon as he had recovered from the first shock, acertain cheerfulness which he had not shown during the whole voyage, andunder which he concealed his apprehensions. 

"I do not want my enemy, " he said to himself, "to suspect mysuspicions. "

But from that moment his suspicions never fell asleep; and every stephe took was guided by most careful circumspection. He never put one footbefore the other, so to say, without first having examined the ground;he never seized a man-rope without having first tried its solidity; hehad made it a law to eat and drink nothing, not even a glass of water, but what came from the officers' table. 

These perpetual precautions, these ceaseless apprehensions, wereextremely repugnant to his daring temper; but he felt, that, under suchcircumstances, careless would be no longer courage, but simple folly. Hehad engaged in a duel in which he wanted to be victorious; hence he mustat least defend himself against the attack. He felt, moreover, that hewas the only protector his beloved had now; and that, if he died, shewould certainly be lost. But he also thought not only of defendinghimself, but of getting at the assassin, and, through him, at theinfamous creature by whom he was employed, Sarah Brandon. 

He therefore pursued his search quietly, slowly, but indefatigably. Certain circumstances which he had at first forgotten, and a few pointsskilfully put together, gave him some hope. He had, for instance, ascertained that none but the crews of the boats had been on shore, andthat, of these, not one had been for ten minutes out of sight of theothers. Hence the pretended boatman was not a sailor on board "TheConquest. " Nor could it have been one of the marines, as none of themhad been allowed to leave the vessel. There remained the emigrants, fifty or sixty of whom had spent the night in Saigon. 

But was not the idea that one of these men might have led Daniel intothe trap contradicted by the circumstances of the first attempt? Byno means; for many of the younger men among these emigrants had askedpermission to help in the working of the ship in order to break themonotony of the long voyage. After careful inquiry, Daniel ascertainedeven that four of them had been with the sailors on the yards from whichthe heavy block fell that came so near ending his life. 

Which were they? This he could not ascertain. 

Still the result was enough for Daniel to make his life more endurable. He could breathe again on board ship; he went and came in all safety, since he was sure that the guilty man was not one of the crew. He evenfelt real and great relief at the thought that his would-be assassin wasnot to be looked for among these brave and frank sailors; none of them, at least, had been bribed with gold to commit a murder. Moreover, thelimits of his investigations had now narrowed down in such a manner, that he might begin to hope for success in the end. 

Unfortunately the emigrants had, a fortnight after the landing, scattered abroad, going according as they were wanted, to the differentestablishments in the colony, which were far apart from each other. Daniel had therefore, at least for the moment, to give up a plan he hadformed, to talk with every one of them until he should recognize thevoice of the false boatman. 

He himself, besides, was not to remain at Saigon. After a firstexpedition, which kept him away for two months, he obtained command ofa steam-sloop, which was ordered to explore and to take all the bearingsof the River Kamboja, from the sea to Mitho, the second city of CochinChina. This was no easy task; for the Kamboja had already defeated theefforts of several hydrographic engineers by its capricious and constantchanges, every pass and every turn nearly changing with the monsoons indirection and depth. 

But the mission had its own difficulties and dangers. The Kamboja is notonly obstructed by foul swamps; but it flows through vast marshy plains, which, in the season of rains, are covered with water; while in thedry season, under the burning rays of the sun, they exhale that fatalmalaria which has cost already thousands of valuable lives. 

Daniel was to experience its effects but too soon. In less than a weekafter he had set out, he saw three of the men who had been put underhis orders die before his eyes, after a few hours' illness, and amidatrocious convulsions. They had the cholera. During the next fourmonths, seven succumbed to fevers which they had contracted in thesepestilential swamps. And towards the end of the expedition, when thework was nearly done, the survivors were so emaciated, that they hadhardly strength enough to hold themselves up. Daniel alone had not yetsuffered from these terrible scourges. God knows, however, that he hadnot spared himself, nor ever hesitated to do what he thought he oughtto do. To sustain, to electrify these men, exhausted as they were bysickness, and irritated at wasting their lives upon work that had noreward, a leader was required who should possess uncommon intrepidity, and who should treat danger as an enemy who is to be defied only byfacing him; and such a leader they found in Daniel. 

He had told Sarah Brandon on the eve of his departure, --

"With a love like mine, with a hatred like mine, in the heart, one candefy all things. The murderous climate is not going to harm me; and, ifI had six balls in my body, I should still find strength enough to comeand call you to account for what you have done to Henrietta before Idie. "

He certainly had had need of all that dauntless energy which passioninspires to sustain him in his trials. But alas! his bodily sufferingswere as nothing in comparison with his mental anxiety. At night, whilehis men were asleep, he kept awake, his heart torn with anguish, nowcrushed under the thought of his helplessness, and now asking himself ifrage would not deprive him of his reason. 

It was a year now since he had left Paris to go on board "The Conquest, "a whole year. 

And he had not received a single letter from Henrietta, --not one. Everytime a vessel arrived from France with despatches, his hopes revived;and every time they were disappointed. 

"Well, " he would say to himself, "I can wait for the next. " And then hebegan counting the days. Then it arrived at last, this long-expectedship, and never, never once brought a letter from Henrietta--

How could this silence be explained? What strange events could havehappened? What must he think, hope, fear?

To be chained by honor to a place a thousand leagues from the woman heloved to distraction, to know nothing about her, her life, her actionsand her thoughts, to be reduced to such extreme wretchedness, to doubt--

Daniel would have been much less unhappy if some one had suddenly comeand told him, "Miss Ville-Handry is no more. "

Yes, less unhappy; for true love in its savage selfishness suffers lessfrom death than from treason. If Henrietta had died, Daniel wouldhave been crushed; and maybe despair would have driven him to extrememeasures; but he would have been relieved of that horrible strugglewithin him, between his faith in the promises of his beloved and certainsuspicions, which caused his hair to stand on end. 

But he knew that she was alive; for there was hardly a vessel comingfrom France or from England which did not bring him a letter fromMaxime, or from the Countess Sarah. For Sarah insisted upon writingto him, as if there existed a mysterious bond between them, which shedefied him to break. 

"I obey, " she said, "an impulse more powerful than reason and willalike. It is stronger than I am, stronger than all things else; I mustwrite to you, I cannot help it. "

At another time she said, --

"Do you remember that evening, O Daniel! when, pressing Sarah Brandonto your heart, you swore to be hers forever? The Countess Ville-Handrycannot forget it. "

Under the most indifferent words there seemed to palpitate and tostruggle a passion which was but partially restrained, and ever on thepoint of breaking forth. Her letters read like the conversations oftimid lovers, who talk about the rain and the weather in a tone of voicetrembling with desire, and with looks burning with passion. 

"Could she really be in love with me?" Daniel thought, "and could thatbe her punishment?"

Then, again, swearing, like the roughest of his men, he added, --

"Am I to be a fool forever? Is it not quite clear that this wicked womanonly tries to put my suspicions to sleep? She is evidently preparing forher defence, in case the rascal who attempted my life should be caught, and compromise her by his confessions. "

Every letter; moreover, brought from the Countess Sarah some news abouthis betrothed, her "stepdaughter. " But she always spoke of her withextreme reserve and reticence, and in ambiguous terms, as if countingupon Daniel's sagacity to guess what she could not or would not write. According to her account, Henrietta had become reconciled to herfather's marriage. The poor child's melancholy had entirely disappeared. Miss Henrietta was very friendly with Sir Thorn. The coquettish ways ofthe young girl became quite alarming; and her indiscretion provoked thegossip of visitors. Daniel might as well accustom himself to the idea, that, on his return, he might find Henrietta a married woman. 

"She lies, the wretch!" said Daniel; "yes, she lies!"

But he tried in vain to resist; every letter from Sarah brought him thegerm of some new suspicion, which fermented in his mind as the miasmafermented in the veins of his men. 

The information furnished by Maxime de Brevan was different, andoften contradictory even, but by no means more reassuring. His lettersportrayed the perplexity and the hesitation of a man who is all anxietyto soften hard truths. According to him, the Countess Sarah and MissVille-Handry did not get on well with each other; but he declared he wasbound to say that the wrong was all on the young lady's side, who seemedto make it the study of her life to mortify her step-mother, while thelatter bore the most irritating provocations with unchanging sweetness. He alluded to the calumnies which endangered Miss Henrietta'sreputation, admitting that she had given some ground for them bythoughtless acts. He finally added that he foresaw the moment whenshe would leave her father's house in spite of all his advice to thecontrary. 

"And not one line from her, " exclaimed Daniel, --"not one line!"

And he wrote her letter after letter, beseeching her to answer him, whatever might be the matter, and to fear nothing, as the certaintyeven of a misfortune would be a blessing to him in comparison with thistorturing uncertainty. 

He wrote without imagining for a moment that Henrietta suffered all thetorments he endured, that their letters were intercepted, and that shehad no more news of him than he had of her. 

Time passed, however, carrying with it the evil as well as the gooddays. Daniel returned to Saigon, bringing back with him one of thefinest hydrographic works that exist on Cochin China. It was well knownthat this work had cost an immense outlay of labor, of privations, andof life; hence he was rewarded as if he had won a battle, and he wasrewarded instantly, thanks to special powers conferred upon his chief, reserving only the confirmation in France, which was never refused. 

All the survivors of the expedition were mentioned in public orders andin the official report; two were decorated; and Daniel was promotedto officer of the Legion of Honor. Under other circumstances, thisdistinction, doubly valuable to so young a man, would have made himsupremely happy; now it left him cold. 

The fact was, that these long trials had worn out the elasticity of hisheart; and the sources of joy, as well as the sources of sorrow, haddried up. He no longer struggled against despair, and came to believethat Henrietta had forgotten him, and would never be his wife. Now, ashe knew he never could love another, or rather as no other existedfor him; as, without Henrietta, the world seemed to him empty, absurd, intolerable, --he asked himself why he should continue to live. Therewere moments in which he looked lovingly at his pistols, and said tohimself, --

"Why should I not spare Sarah Brandon the trouble?"

What kept his hand back was the leaven of hatred which still rose in himat times. He ought to have the courage, at least, to live long enough toavenge himself. Harassed by these anxieties, he withdrew more andmore from society; never went on shore; and his comrades on board "TheConquest" felt anxious as they looked at him walking restlessly up anddown the quarter-deck, pale, and with eyes on fire. 

For they loved Daniel. His superiority was so evident, that nonedisputed it; they might envy him; but they could never be jealous ofhim. Some of them thought he had brought back with him from Kamboja thegerm of one of those implacable diseases which demoralize the strongest, and which break out suddenly, carrying a man off in a few hours. 

"You ought not to become a misanthrope, my dear Champcey, " they wouldsay. "Come, for Heaven's sake shake off that sadness, which might makean end of you before you are aware of it!"

And jestingly they added, --

"Decidedly, you regret the banks of the Kamboja!"

They thought it a jest: it was the truth. Daniel did regret even theworst days of his mission. At that time his grave responsibility, overwhelming fatigues, hard work, and daily danger, had procured him atleast some hours of oblivion. Now idleness left him, without respite ortime, face to face with his distressing thoughts. It was the desire, thenecessity almost, of escaping in some manner from himself, which madehim accept an invitation to join a number of his comrades who wanted totry the charms of a great hunting party. 

On the morning of the expedition, however, he had a kind ofpresentiment. 

"A fine opportunity, " he thought, "for the assassin hired by SarahBrandon!"

Then, shrugging his shoulders, he said with a bitter laugh, --

"How can I hesitate? As if a life like mine was worth the trouble ofprotecting it against danger!"

When they arrived on the following day on the hunting ground, he, aswell as the other hunters, received their instructions, and had theirposts assigned them by the leader. He found himself placed between twoof his comrades, in front of a thicket, and facing a narrow ravine, through which all the game must necessarily pass as it was driven downby a crowd of Annamites. 

They had been firing for an hour, when Daniel's neighbors saw himsuddenly let go his rifle, turn over, and fall. 

They hurried up to catch him; but he fell, face forward, to the ground, saying aloud, and very distinctly, --

"This time they have not missed me!"

At the outcry raised by the two neighbors of Daniel, other hunters hadhastened up, and among them the chief surgeon of "The Conquest, " one ofthose old "pill-makers, " who, under a jovial scepticism, and a rough, almost brutal outside, conceal great skill and an almost femininetenderness. As soon as he looked at the wounded man, whom his friendshad stretched out on his back, making a pillow of their overcoats, andwho lay there pale and inanimate, the good doctor frowned, and growledout, --

"He won't live. "

The officers were thunderstruck. 

"Poor Champcey!" said one of them, "to escape the Kamboja fevers, and tobe killed here at a pleasure party! Do you recollect, doctor, what yousaid on the occasion of his second accident, --'Mind the third'?"

The old doctor did not listen. He had knelt down, and rapidly strippedthe coat off Daniel's back. The poor man had been struck by a shot. Theball had entered on the right side, a little behind; and between thefourth and the fifth rib, one could see a round wound, the edges drawnin. But the most careful examination did not enable him to find theplace where the projectile had come out again. The doctor rose slowly, and, while carefully dusting the knees of his trousers, he said, --

"All things considered, I would not bet that he may not escape. Whoknows where the ball may be lodged? It may have respected the vitalparts. 

"Projectiles often take curious turns and twists. I should almost bedisposed to answer for M. Champcey, if I had him in a good bed in thehospital at Saigon. At all events, we must try to get him there alive. Let one of you gentlemen tell the sailors who have come with us to makea litter of branches. "

The noise of a struggle, of fearful oaths and inarticulate cries, interrupted his orders. Some fifteen yards off, below the place whereDaniel had fallen, two sailors were coming out of the thicket, theirfaces red with anger, dragging out a man with a wretched gun, who hurledout, --

"Will you let me go, you parcel of good-for-nothings! Let me go, or I'llhurt you!"

He was so furiously struggling in the arms of the two sailors, clingingwith an iron grip to roots and branches and rocks, turning and twistingat every step, that the men at last, furious at his resistance, liftedhim up bodily, and threw him at the chief surgeon's feet, exclaiming, --

"Here is the scoundrel who has killed our lieutenant!"

It was a man of medium size, with a dejected air, and lack-lustre eyes, wearing a mustache and chin-beard, and looking impudent. His costumewas that of an Annamite of the middle classes, --a blouse buttoned atthe side, trousers made in Chinese style, and sandals of red leather. Itwas, nevertheless, quite evident that the man was a European. 

"Where did you find him?" asked the surgeon of the men. 

"Down there, commandant, behind that big bush, to the right of Lieut. Champcey, and a little behind him. "

"Why do you accuse him?"

"Why? We have good reasons, I should think. He was hiding. When we sawhim, he was lying flat on the ground, trembling with fear; and we saidat once, 'Surely, there is the man who fired that shot. '"

The man had, in the meantime, raised himself, and assumed an air ofalmost provoking assurance. 

"They lie!" he exclaimed. "Yes, they lie, the cowards!"

This insult would have procured him a sound drubbing, but for the oldsurgeon, who held the arm of the first sailor who made the attack. Then, continuing his interrogatory, he asked, --

"Why did you hide?"

"I did not hide. "

"What were you doing there, crouching in the bush?"

"I was at my post, like the others. Do they require a permit to carryarms in Cochin China? I was not invited to your hunting party, to besure; but I am fond of game; and I said to myself, 'Even if I were toshoot two or three head out of the hundreds their drivers will bringdown, I would do them no great harm. '"

The doctor let him talk on for some time, observing him closely with hissagacious eye; then, all of a sudden, he broke in, saying, --

"Give me your gun!"

The man turned so visibly pale, that all the officers standing aroundnoticed it. Still he did what he was asked to do, and said, --

"Here it is. It's a gun one of my friends has lent me. "

The doctor examined the weapon very carefully; and, after havinginspected the lock, he said, --

"Both barrels of your gun are empty; and they have not been emptied morethan two minutes ago. "

"That is so; I fired both barrels at an animal that passed me withinreach. "

"One of the balls may have gone astray. "

"That cannot be. I was aiming in the direction of the prairie; and, consequently, I was turning my back to the place where the officer wasstanding. "

To the great surprise of everybody, the doctor's face, ordinarily craftyenough, now looked all benevolent curiosity, --so much so, that the twosailors who had captured the man were furious, and said aloud, --

"Ah! don't believe him, commandant, the dirty dog!"

But the man, evidently encouraged by the surgeon's apparent kindliness, asked, --

"Am I to be allowed to defend myself, or not?"

And then he added in a tone of supreme impudence, --

"However, whether I defend myself or not, it will, no doubt, be allthe same. Ah! if I were only a sailor, or even a marine, that would beanother pair of sleeves; they would hear me! But now, I am nothing buta poor civilian; and here everybody knows civilians must have broadshoulders. Wrong or right, as soon as they are accused, they areconvicted. "

The doctor seemed to have made up his mind; for he interrupted this flowof words, saying in his kindest voice, --

"Calm yourself, my friend. There is a test which will clearly establishyour innocence. The ball that has struck Lieut. Champcey is still in thewound; and I am the man who is going to take it out, I promise you. Weall here have rifles with conical balls; you are the only one who has anordinary shot-gun with round balls, so there is no mistake possible. Ido not know if you understand me?"

Yes, he understood, and so well, that his pale face turned livid, andhe looked all around with frightened glances. For about six seconds hehesitated, counting his chances; then suddenly falling on his knees, hishands folded, and beating the ground with his forehead, he cried out, --

"I confess! Yes, it may be I who have hit the officer. I heardthe bushes moving in his direction, and I fired at a guess. What amisfortune! O God, what a misfortune! Ah! _I_ would give my life to savehis if I could. It was an accident, gentlemen, I swear. Such accidentshappen every day in hunting; the papers are full of them. Great God!what an unfortunate man I am!"

The doctor had stepped back. He now ordered the two sailors who hadarrested the man, to make sure of him, to bind him, and carry him toSaigon to prison. One of the gentlemen, he said, would write a fewlines, which they must take with them. The man seemed to be annihilated. 

"A misfortune is not a crime, " he sighed out. "I am an honest mechanic. "

"We shall see that in Saigon, " answered the surgeon. 

And he hastened away to see if all the preparations had been madeto carry the wounded man. In less than twenty minutes, and with thatmarvellous skill which is one of the characteristic features of goodsailors, a solid litter had been constructed; the bottom formed a realmattress of dry leaves; and overhead a kind of screen had been made oflarger leaves. When they put Daniel in, the pain caused him to utter alow cry of pain. This was the first sign of life he had given. 

"And now, my friends, " said the doctor, "let us go! And bear in mind, ifyou shake the lieutenant, he is a dead man. "

It was hardly eight in the morning when the melancholy processionstarted homeward; and it was not until between two and three o'clock onthe next morning that it entered Saigon, under one of those overwhelmingrains which give one an idea of the deluge, and of which Cochin Chinahas the monopoly. The sailors who carried the litter on which Daniellay had walked eighteen hours without stopping, on footpaths whichwere almost impassable, and where every moment a passage had to be cutthrough impenetrable thickets of aloes, cactus, and jack-trees. Severaltimes the officers had offered to take their places; but they had alwaysrefused, relieving each other, and taking all the time as ingeniousprecautions as a mother might devise for her dying infant. Although, therefore, the march lasted so long, the dying man felt no shock; andthe old doctor said, quite touched, to the officers who were aroundhim, --

"Good fellows, how careful they are! You might have put a full glass ofwater on the litter, and they would not have spilled a drop. "

Yes, indeed! Good people, rude and rough, no doubt, in many ways, coarsesometimes, and even brutal, bad to meet on shore the day after pay-day, or coming out from a drinking-shop, but keeping under the rough outsidea heart of gold, childlike simplicity, and the sacred fire of noblestdevotion. The fact was, they did not dare breathe heartily till afterthey had put their precious burden safe under the hospital porch. 

Two officers who had hastened in advance had ordered a room to be madeready. Daniel was carried there; and when he had been gently put on awhite, good bed, officers and sailors withdrew into an adjoining room toawait the doctor's sentence. The latter remained with the wounded man, with two assistant surgeons who had been roused in the meantime. 

Hope was very faint. Daniel had recovered his consciousness duringthe journey, and had even spoken a few words to those around him, butincoherent words, the utterance of delirium. They had questioned himonce or twice; but his answers had shown that he had no consciousnessof the accident which had befallen him, nor of his present condition; sothat the general opinion among the sailors who were waiting, and who allhad more or less experience of shot-wounds, was, that fever would carryoff their lieutenant before sunrise. 

Suddenly, as if by magic, all was hushed, and not a word spoken. 

The old surgeon had just appeared at the door of the sick-chamber; and, with a pleasant and hopeful smile on his lips, he said, --

"Our poor Champcey is doing as well as could be expected; and I wouldalmost be sure of his recovery, if the great heat was not upon us. "

And, silencing the murmur of satisfaction which arose among them at thisgood news, he went on to say, --

"Because, after all, serious as the wound is, it is nothing incomparison with what it might have been; and what is more, gentlemen, Ihave the _corpus delicti_. "

He raised in the air, as he said this, a spherical ball, which he heldbetween his thumb and forefinger. 

"Another instance, " he said, "to be added to those mentioned by ourgreat masters of surgery, of the oddities of projectiles. This one, instead of pursuing its way straight through the body of our poorfriend, had turned around the ribs, and gone to its place close by thevertebral column. There I found it, almost on the surface; and nothingwas needed to dislodge it but a slight push with the probe. "

The shot-gun taken from the hands of the murderer had been depositedin a corner of the large room: they brought it up, tried the ball, andfound it to fit accurately. 

"Now we have a tangible proof, " exclaimed a young ensign, "anunmistakable proof, that the wretch whom our men have caught is Daniel'smurderer. Ah, he might as well have kept his confession!"

But the old surgeon replied with a dark frown, --

"Gently, gentlemen, gently! Don't let us be over-hasty in accusing apoor fellow of such a fearful crime, when, perhaps, he is guilty only ofimprudence. "

"O doctor, doctor!" protested half a dozen voices. 

"I beg your pardon! Don't let us be hasty, I say; and let us consider, For an assassination there must be a motive, and an all-powerful motive;for, aside from the scaffold which he risks, no man is capable ofkilling another man solely for the purpose of shedding his blood. Now, in this case, I look in vain for any reason, which could have inducedthe man to commit a murder. He certainly did not expect to rob our poorcomrade. But hatred, you say, or vengeance, perhaps! Well, that may be. But, before a man makes up his mind to shoot even the man he hates likea dog, he must have been cruelly offended by him; and, to bring thisabout, he must have been in contact, or must have stood in some relationto him. Now, I ask you, is it not far more probable that the murderersaw our friend Champcey this morning for the first time?"

"I beg your pardon, commandant! He knew him perfectly well. "

The man who interrupted the doctor was one of the sailors to whom theprisoner had been intrusted to carry him to prison. He came forward, twisting his worsted cap in his hands; and, when the old surgeon hadordered him to speak, he said, --

"Yes, the rascal knew the lieutenant as well as I know you, commandant;and the reason of it is, that the scoundrel was one of the emigrantswhom we brought here eighteen months ago. "

"Are you sure of what you say?"

"As sure as I see you, commandant. At first my comrade and I did notrecognize him, because a year and a half in this wretched countrydisfigure a man horribly; but, while we were carrying him to jail, wesaid to one another, 'That is a head we have seen before. ' Then wemade him talk; and he told us gradually, that he had been one of thepassengers, and that he even knew my name, which is Baptist Lefloch. "

This deposition of the sailor made a great impression upon all thebystanders, except the old doctor. It is true he was looked upon, onboard "The Conquest, " as one of the most obstinate men in holding on tohis opinions. 

"Do you know, " he asked the sailor, "if this man was one of the four orfive who had to be put in irons during the voyage?"

"No, he was not one of them, commandant. "

"Did he ever have anything to do with Lieut. Champcey? Has he beenreprimanded by him, or punished? Has he ever spoken to him?"

"Ah, commandant! that is more than I can tell. "

The old doctor slightly shrugged his shoulders, and said in a tone ofindifference, --

"You see, gentlemen, this deposition is too vague to prove anything. Believe me, therefore, do not let us judge before the trial, and let usgo to bed. "

Day was just breaking, pale and cool; the sailors disappeared one byone. The doctor was getting ready to lie down on a bed which he hadordered to be put up in a room adjoining that in which the wounded manwas lying, when an officer came in. It was one of those who had beenstanding near Champcey; he, also, was a lieutenant. 

"I should like to have a word in private with you, doctor, " he said. 

"Very well, " replied the old surgeon. "Be kind enough to come up to myroom. " And when they were alone, he locked the door, and said, --

"I am listening. "

The lieutenant thought a moment, like a man who looks for the best formin which to present an important idea, and then said, --

"Between us, doctor, do you believe it was an accident, or a crime?"

The surgeon hesitated visibly. 

"I will tell you, but you only, frankly, that I do not believe it was anaccident. But as we have no evidence"--

"Pardon me! I think I have evidence. "

"Oh!"

"You shall, judge yourself. When Daniel fell, he said, 'This time, theyhave not missed me!'"

"Did he say so?"

"Word for word. And Saint Edme, who was farther from him than I was, heard it as distinctly as I did. "

To the great surprise of the lieutenant, the chief surgeon seemed onlymoderately surprised; his eyes, on the contrary, shone with that pleasedair of a man who congratulates himself at having foreseen exactly whathe now is told was the fact. He drew a chair up to the fireplace, inwhich a huge fire had been kindled to dry his clothes, sat down, andsaid, --

"Do you know, my dear lieutenant, that what you tell me is a matterof the greatest importance? What may we not conclude from those words, 'This time they have not missed me'? In the first place, it proves thatChampcey was fully aware that his life was in danger. Secondly, that plural, 'They have not, ' shows that he knew he was watched andthreatened by several people: hence the scamp whom we caught must haveaccomplices. In the third place, those words, 'This time, ' establish thefact that his life has been attempted before. "

"That is just what I thought, doctor. "

The worthy old gentleman looked very grave and solemn, meditatingdeeply. 

"Well, I, " he continued slowly, "I had a very clear presentiment ofall that as soon as I looked at the murderer. Do you remember the man'samazing impudence as long as he thought he could not be convicted of thecrime? And then, when he found that the calibre of his gun betrayed him, how abject, how painfully humble, he became! Evidently such a man iscapable of anything. "

"Oh! you need only look at him"--

"Yes, indeed! Well, as I was thus watching him, I instinctivelyrecalled the two remarkable accidents which so nearly killed our poorChampcey, --that block that fell upon him from the skies, and thatshipwreck in the Dong-Nai. But I was still doubtful. After what you tellme, I am sure. "

He seized the lieutenant's hand; and, pressing it almost painfully, hewent on, --

"Yes, I am ready to take my oath that this wretch is the vile tool ofpeople who hate or fear Daniel Champcey; who are deeply interested inhis death; and who, being too cowardly to do their own business, arerich enough to hire an assassin. "

The lieutenant was evidently unable to follow. 

"Still, doctor, " he objected, "but just now you insisted"--

"Upon a diametrically opposite doctrine; eh?"

"Precisely. "

The old surgeon smiled, and said, --

"I had my reasons. The more I am persuaded that this man is anassassin, the less I am disposed to proclaim it on the housetops. He hasaccomplices, you think, do you?"

"Certainly. "

"Well, if we wish to reach them, we must by all means reassure them, leave them under the impression that everybody thinks it was anaccident. If they are frightened, good-night. They will vanish beforeyou can put out your hand to seize them. "

"Champcey might be questioned; perhaps he could furnish someinformation. "

But the doctor rose, and stopped him with an air of fury, --

"Question my patient! Kill him, you mean! No! If I am to have thewonderful good luck to pull him through, no one shall come near his bedfor a month. And, moreover, it will be very fortunate indeed if in amonth he is sufficiently recovered to keep up a conversation. "

He shook his head, and went on, after a moment's silence, --

"Besides, it is a question whether Champcey would be disposed to saywhat he knows, or what he suspects. That is very doubtful. Twice he hasbeen almost killed. Has he ever said a word about it? He probably hasthe same reasons for keeping silence now that he had then. "

Then, without noticing the officer's objections, he added, --

"At all events, I will think it over, and go and see the judges assoon as they are out of bed. But I must ask you, lieutenant, to keep mysecret till further order. Will you promise?"

"On my word, doctor. "

"Then you may rest assured our poor friend shall be avenged. And now, asI have barely two hours to rest, please excuse me. "

XXIV. 

As soon as he was alone, the doctor threw himself on his bed; but hecould not sleep. He had never in his life been so much puzzled. Hefelt as if this crime was the result of some terrible but mysteriousintrigue; and the very fact of having, as he fancied, raised a corner ofthe veil, made him burn with the desire to draw it aside altogether. 

"Why, " he said to himself, "why might not the scamp whom we hold be theauthor of the other two attempts likewise? There is nothing improbablein that supposition. The man, once engaged, might easily have been puton board 'The Conquest;' and he might have left France saying to himselfthat it would be odd indeed, if during a long voyage, or in a land likethis, he did not find a chance to earn his money without running muchrisk. "

The result of his meditations was, that the chief surgeon appeared, atnine o'clock, at the office of the state attorney. He placed the matterbefore him very fully and plainly; and, an hour afterwards, he crossedthe yard on his way to the prison, accompanied by a magistrate and hisclerk. 

"How is the man the sailors brought here last night?" he asked thejailer. 

"Badly, sir. He would not eat. "

"What did he say when he got here?"

"Nothing. He seemed to be stupefied. "

"You did not try to make him talk?"

"Why, yes, a little. He answered that he had done some mischief; that hewas in despair, and wished he were dead. "

The magistrate looked at the surgeon as if he meant to say, "Just as Iexpected from what you told me!" Then, turning again to the jailer, hesaid, --

"Show us to the prisoner's cell. "

The murderer had been put into a small but tidy cell in the first story. When they entered, they found him seated on his bed, his heels on thebars, and his chin in the palm of his hands. As soon as he saw thesurgeon, he jumped up, and with outstretched arms and rolling eyes, exclaimed, --

"The officer has died!"

"No, " replied the surgeon, "no! Calm yourself. The wound is a very badone; but in a fortnight he will be up again. "

These words fell like a heavy blow upon the murderer. He turned pale;his lips quivered; and he trembled in all his limbs. Still he promptlymastered this weakness of the flesh; and falling on his knees, withfolded hands, he murmured in the most dramatic manner, --

"Then I am not a murderer! O Great God, I thank thee!"

And his lips moved as if he were uttering a fervent prayer. 

It was evidently a case of coarsest hypocrisy; for his lookscontradicted his words and his voice. The magistrate, however, seemed tobe taken in. 

"You show proper feelings, " he said. "Now get up and answer me. What isyour name?"

"Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet. "

"What age?"

"Thirty-five years. "

"Where were you born?"

"At Bagnolet, near Paris. And on that account, my friend"--

"Never mind. Your profession?"

The man hesitated. The magistrate added, --

"In your own interest I advise you to tell the truth. The truth alwayscomes out in the end; and your position would be a very serious one ifyou tried to lie. Answer, therefore, directly. "

"Well, I am an engraver on metal; but I have been in the army; I servedmy time in the marines. "

"What brought you to Cochin China?"

"The desire to find work. I was tired of Paris. There was no work forengravers. I met a friend who told me the government wanted good workmenfor the colonies. "

"What was your friend's name?"

A slight blush passed over the man's cheek's, and he answered hastily, --

"I have forgotten his name. "

The magistrate seemed to redouble his attention, although he did notshow it. 

"That is very unfortunate for you, " he answered coldly. "Come, make aneffort; try to remember. "

"I know I cannot; it is not worth the trouble. "

"Well; but no doubt you recollect the profession of the man who knew sowell that government wanted men in Cochin China? What was it?"

The man, this time, turned crimson with rage, and cried out withextraordinary vehemence, --

"How do I know? Besides, what have I to do with my friend's name andprofession? I learned from him that they wanted workmen. I called at thenavy department, they engaged me; and that is all. "

Standing quietly in one of the corners of the cell, the old chiefsurgeon lost not a word, not a gesture, of the murderer. And he couldhardly refrain from rubbing his hands with delight as he noticed themarvellous skill of the magistrate in seizing upon all those littlesigns, which, when summed up at the end of an investigation, form anoverwhelming mass of evidence against the criminal. The magistrate, inthe meantime, went on with the same impassive air, --

"Let us leave that question, then, since it seems to irritate you, andlet us go on to your residence here. How have you supported yourself atSaigon?"

"By my work, forsooth! _I_ have two arms; and I am not a good-for-nothing. "

"You have found employment, you say, as engraver on metal?"

"No. "

"But you said"--

Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, could hardly conceal hisimpatience. 

"If you won't let me have my say, " he broke out insolently, "it isn'tworth while questioning me. "

The magistrate seemed not to notice it. He answered coldly, --

"Oh! talk as much as you want. I can wait. "

"Well, then, the day after we had landed, M. Farniol, the owner of theFrench restaurant, offered me a place as waiter. Of course I accepted, and stayed there a year. Now I wait at table at the Hotel de France, kept by M. Roy. You can send for my two masters; they will tell youwhether there is any complaint against me. "

"They will certainly be examined. And where do you live?"

"At the Hotel de France, of course, where I am employed. "

The magistrate's face looked more and more benevolent. He asked next, --

"And that is a good place, --to be waiter at a restaurant or a hotel?"

"Why, yes--pretty good. "

"They pay well; eh?"

"That depends, --sometimes they do; at other times they don't. When it isthe season"--

"That is so everywhere. But let us be accurate. You have been noweighteen months in Saigon; no doubt you have laid up something?"

The man looked troubled and amazed, as if he had suddenly found out thatthe apparent benevolence of the magistrate had led him upon slippery anddangerous ground. He said evasively, --

"If I have put anything aside, it is not worth mentioning. "

"On the contrary, let us mention it. How much about have you saved?"

Bagnolet's looks, and the tremor of his lips, showed the rage that wasdevouring him. 

"I don't know, " he said sharply. 

The magistrate made a gesture of surprise which was admirable. Headded, --

"What! You don't know how much you have laid up? That is too improbable!When people save money, one cent after another, to provide for their oldage, they know pretty well"--

"Well, then, take it for granted that I have saved nothing. "

"As you like it. Only it is my duty to show you the effect of yourdeclaration. You tell me you have not laid up any money, don't you? Now, what would you say, if, upon search being made, the police should find acertain sum of money on your person or elsewhere?"

"They won't find any. "

"So much the better for you; for, after what you said, it would be aterrible charge. "

"Let them search. "

"They are doing it now, and not only in your room, but also elsewhere. They will soon know if you have invested any money, or if you havedeposited it with any of your acquaintances. "

"I may have brought some money with me from home. "

"No; for you have told me that you could no longer live in Paris, finding no work. "

Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, made such a sudden and violent start, thatthe surgeon thought he was going to attack the magistrate. He felt hehad been caught in a net the meshes of which were drawing tighter andtighter around him; and these apparently inoffensive questions assumedsuddenly a terrible meaning. 

"Just answer me in one word, " said the magistrate. "Did you bring anymoney from France, or did you not?"

The man rose, and his lips opened to utter a curse; but he checkedhimself, sat down again, and, laughing ferociously, he said, --

"Ah! you would like to 'squeeze' me, and make me cut my own throat. Butluckily, I can see through you; and I refuse to answer. "

"You mean you want to consider. Have a care! You need not consider inorder to tell the truth. "

And, as the man remained obstinately silent, the magistrate began againafter a pause, saying, --

"You know what you are accused of? They suspect that you fired at Lieut. Champcey with intent to kill. "

"That is an abominable lie!"

"So you say. How did you hear that the officers of 'The Conquest' hadarranged a large hunting-party?"

"I had heard them speak of it at _table d'hote_. "

"And you left your service in order to attend this hunt, some twelvemiles from Saigon? That is certainly singular. "

"Not at all; for I am very fond of hunting. And then I thought, if Icould bring back a large quantity of game, I would probably be able tosell it very well. "

"And you would have added the profit to your other savings, wouldn'tyou?"

Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, was stung by the point of this ironicalquestion, as if he had received a sharp cut. But, as he said nothing, the magistrate continued, --

"Explain to us how the thing happened. "

On this ground the murderer knew he was at home, having had ample timeto get ready; and with an accuracy which did great honor to his memory, or to his veracity, he repeated what he had told the surgeon on thespot, and at the time of the catastrophe. He only added, that he hadconcealed himself, because he had seen at once to what terrible chargeshe would be exposed by his awkwardness. And as he continued his account, warming up with its plausibility, he recovered the impudence, orrather the insolence, which seemed to be the prominent feature of hischaracter. 

"Do you know the officer whom you have wounded?" asked the magistratewhen he had finished. 

"Of course, I do, as I have made the voyage with him. He is Lieut. Champcey. "

"Have you any complaint against him?"

"None at all. "

Then he added in a tone of bitterness and resentment, --

"What relations do you think could there be between a poor devil likemyself and a great personage like him? Would he have condescended evento look at me? Would I have dared to speak to him? If I know him, it isonly because I have seen him, from afar off, walk the quarter-deck withthe other officers, a cigar in his mouth, after a good meal, while wein the forecastle had our salt fish, and broke our teeth with worm-eatenhard-tack. "

"So you had no reason to hate him?"

"None; as little as anybody else. "

Seated upon a wretched little footstool, his paper on his knees, aninkhorn in his hand, the clerk was rapidly taking down the questions andthe answers. The magistrate made him a sign that it was ended, and thensaid, turning to the murderer, --

"That is enough for to-day. I am bound to tell you, that, having so faronly kept you as a matter of precaution, I shall issue now an order foryour arrest. "

"You mean I am to be put in jail?"

"Yes, until the court shall decide whether you are _guilty_ of murder, or of involuntary homicide. "

Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, seemed to have foreseen this conclusion: atleast he coolly shrugged his shoulders, and said in a hoarse voice, --

"In that case I shall have my linen changed pretty often here; for, if Ihad been wicked enough to plot an assassination, I should not have beenfool enough to say so. "

"Who knows?" replied the magistrate. "Some evidence is as good as anavowal. "

And, turning to the clerk, he said, --

"Read the deposition to the accused. "

A moment afterwards, when this formality had been fulfilled, themagistrate and the old doctor left the room. The former looked extremelygrave, and said, --

"You were right, doctor; that man is a murderer. The so-called friend, whose name he would not tell us, is no other person than the rascalwhose tool he is. And I mean to get that person's name out of him, ifM. Champcey recovers, and will give me the slightest hint. Therefore, doctor, nurse your patient. "

To recommend Daniel to the surgeon was at least superfluous. If the oldoriginal was inexorable, as they said on board ship, for those lazy oneswho pretended to be sick for the purpose of shirking work, he was alltenderness for his real patients; and his tenderness grew with theseriousness of their danger. He would not have hesitated a momentbetween an admiral who was slightly unwell, and the youngest midshipmanof the fleet who was dangerously wounded. The admiral might have waiteda long time before he would have left the midshipman, --an originalityfar less frequent than we imagine. 

It would have been enough, therefore, for Daniel to be so dangerouslywounded. But there was something else besides. Like all who had eversailed with Daniel, the surgeon, also, had conceived a lively interestin him, and was filled with admiration for his character. Besides that, he knew that his patient alone could solve this great mystery, whichpuzzled him exceedingly. 

Unfortunately, Daniel's condition was one of those which defy allprofessional skill, and where all hope depends upon time, nature, andconstitution. To try to question him would have been absurd; for hehad so far continued delirious. At times he thought he was on boardhis sloop in the swamps of the Kamboja; but most frequently he imaginedhimself fighting against enemies bent upon his ruin. The names of SarahBrandon, Mrs. Brian, and Thomas Elgin, were constantly on his lips, mixed up with imprecations and fearful threats. 

For twenty days he remained so; and for twenty days and twenty nightshis "man, " Baptist Lefloch, who had caught the murderer, was by hisbedside, watching his slightest movement, and ever bending over himtenderly. Not one of those noble daughters of divine wisdom, whom wemeet in every part of the globe, wherever there is a sick man to nurse, could have been more patient, more attentive, or more ingenious, thanthis common sailor. He had put off his shoes, so as to walk more softly;and he came and went on tiptoe, his face full of care and anxiety, preparing draughts, and handling with his huge bony hands, withlaughable, but almost touching precautions, the small phials out ofwhich he had to give a spoonful to his patient at stated times. 

"I'll have you appointed head nurse of the navy, Lefloch, " said the oldsurgeon. 

But he shook his head and answered, --

"I would not like the place, commandant. Only, you see, when we weredown there on the Kamboja, and Baptist Lefloch was writhing like a wormin the grip of the cholera, and when he was already quite blue and cold, Lieut. Champcey did not send for one of those lazy Annamites to rub him, he came himself, and rubbed him till he brought back the heat and lifeitself. Now, you see, I want to do some little for him. "

"You would be a great scamp if you did not. "

The surgeon hardly left the wounded man himself. He visited him fouror five times a day, once at least every night, and almost every dayremained for hours sitting by his bedside, examining the patient, andexperiencing, according to the symptoms, the most violent changes fromhope to fear, and back again. It was thus he learned a part, at least, of Daniel's history, --that he was to marry a daughter of Count Ville-Handry, who himself had married an adventuress; and that they hadseparated him from his betrothed by a forged letter. The doctor'sconjectures were thus confirmed: such cowardly forgers would nothesitate to hire an assassin. 

But the worthy surgeon was too deeply impressed with the dignity of hisprofession to divulge secrets which he had heard by the bedside of apatient. And when the magistrate, devoured by impatience, came to himevery three or four days, he always answered, --

"I have nothing new to tell you. It will take weeks yet before youcan examine my patient. I am sorry for it, for the sake of EvaristeCrochard, surnamed Bagnolet, who must be tired of prison; but he mustwait. "

In the meantime, Daniel's long delirium had been succeeded by a periodof stupor. Order seemed gradually to return to his mind. He recognizedthe persons around him, and even stammered a few sensible words. But hewas so excessively weak, that he remained nearly all the time plunged ina kind of torpor which looked very much like death itself. When he wasaroused for a time, he always asked in an almost inaudible voice, --

"Are there no letters for me from France?"

Invariably, Lefloch replied, according to orders received from thedoctor, --

"None, lieutenant. "

But he told a falsehood. Since Daniel was confined to his bed, threevessels had arrived from France, two French and one English; and amongthe despatches there were eight or ten letters for Lieut. Champcey. Butthe old surgeon said to himself, not without good reason, --

"Certainly it is almost a case of conscience to leave this unfortunateman in such uncertainty: but this uncertainty is free from danger, atleast; while any excitement would kill him as surely and as promptly asI could blow out a candle. "

A fortnight passed; and Daniel recovered some little strength; at lasthe entered upon a kind of convalescence--if a poor man who could notturn over in bed unaided can be called a convalescent. But, with hisreturned consciousness, his sufferings also reappeared; and, as hegradually ascertained how long he had been confined, his anxiety assumedan alarming character. 

"There must be letters for me, " he said to his man; "you keep them fromme. I must have them. "

The doctor at last came to the conclusion that this excessive agitationwas likely to become as dangerous as the excitement he dreaded so much;so he said one day, --

"Let us run the risk. "

It was a burning hot afternoon, and Daniel had now been an invalid forseven weeks. Lefloch raised him on his pillows, stowed him away, as hecalled it; and the surgeon handed him his letters. 

Daniel uttered a cry of delight. 

At the first glance he had recognized on three of the envelopesHenrietta's handwriting. He kissed them, and said, --

"At last she writes!"

The shock was so violent, that the doctor was almost frightened. 

"Be calm, my dear friend, " he said. "Be calm! Be a man, forsooth!"

But Daniel only smiled, and replied, --

"Never mind me, doctor; you know joy is never dangerous; and nothing butjoy can come to me from her who writes to me. However, just see how calmI am!"

So calm, that he did not even take the time to see which was the oldestof his letters. 

He opened one of them at haphazard, and read:--

"Daniel, my dear Daniel, my only friend in this world, and my sole hope, how could you intrust me to such an infamous person? How could you handover your poor Henrietta to such a wretch? This Maxime de Brevan, thisscoundrel, whom you considered your friend, if you knew"--

This was the long letter written by Henrietta the day after M. De Brevanhad declared to her that he loved her, and that sooner or later, whethershe chose or not, she should be his, giving her the choice between thehorrors of starvation and the disgrace of becoming his wife. 

As Daniel went on reading, a deadly pallor was spreading over his face, pale as it was already; his eyes grew unnaturally large; and big dropsof perspiration trickled down his temples. A nervous trembling seizedhim, so violent, that it made his teeth rattle; sobs rose from hischest; and a pinkish foam appeared on his discolored lips. At last hereached the concluding lines, --

"Now, " the young girl wrote, "since, probably, none of my letters havereached you, they must have been intercepted. This one will reach you;for I am going to carry it to the post-office myself. For God'ssake, Daniel, return! Come back quick, if you wish to save, not yourHenrietta's honor, for I shall know how to die, but your Henrietta'slife!"

Then the surgeon and the sailor witnessed a frightful sight. 

This man, who but just now had not been able to raise himself on hispillows; this unfortunate sufferer, who looked more like a skeletonthan a human being; this wounded man, who had scarcely his breath lefthim, --threw back his blankets, and rushed to the middle of the room, crying, with a terrible voice, --

"My clothes, Lefloch, my clothes!"

The doctor had hastened forward to support him; but he pushed him asidewith one arm, continuing, --

"By the holy name of God, Lefloch, make haste! Run to the harbor, wretch! there must be a steamer there. I buy it. Let it get up steam, instantly. In an hour I must be on my way. "

But this great effort had exhausted him. He tottered; his eyes dosed;and he fainted away in the arms of his sailor, stammering, --

"That letter, doctor, that letter; read it, and you will see I must go. "

Raising his lieutenant, and holding him like a child in his arms, Lefloch carried him back to his bed; but, for more than ten minutes, thedoctor and the faithful sailor were unable to tell whether they had nota corpse before their eyes, and were wasting all their attentions. 

No! It was Lefloch who first noticed a slight tremor. 

"He moves!" he cried out. "Look, commandant, he moves! He is alive!We'll pull him through yet. "

They succeeded, in fact, to rekindle this life which had appeared sonearly extinct; but they did _not_ bring back that able intellect. Thecold and indifferent look with which Daniel stared at them, when he atlast opened his eyes once more, told them that the tottering reason ofthe poor man had not been strong enough to resist this new shock. Andstill he must have retained some glimpses of the past; for hisefforts to collect his thoughts were unmistakable. He passed his handsmechanically over his forehead, as if trying to remove the mistwhich enshrouded his mind. Then a convulsion shook him; and his lipsoverflowed with incoherent words, in which the recollection of thefearful reality, and the extravagant conceptions of delirium, werestrangely mixed. 

"I foresaw it, " said the chief surgeon. "I foresaw it but too fully. "

He had by this time exhausted all the resources of his skill and longexperience; he had followed all the suggestions nature vouchsafed; andhe could do nothing more now, but wait. Picking up the fatal letter, hewent into the embrasure of one of the windows to read it. Daniel hadin his wanderings said enough to enable the doctor to understand thepiercing cry of distress contained in the poor girl's letter; andLefloch, who watched him, saw a big tear running down his cheek, and inthe next moment a flood of crimson overspread his face. 

"This is enough to madden a man!" he growled. "Poor Champcey!"

And like a man who no longer possesses himself, who must move somehow, he stuffed the letter in his pocket, and went out, swearing till theplaster seemed to fall from the ceiling. 

Precisely at the same hour, the magistrate, who had been notified of thetrial, came to ask for news. Seeing the old surgeon cross the hospitalyard, he ran up and asked, as soon as he was within hearing, --

"Well?"

The doctor went a few steps farther, and then replied in a tone ofdespair, --

"Lieut. Champcey is lost!"

"Great God! What do you mean?"

"What I think. Daniel has a violent brain-fever, or rather congestion ofthe brain. Weakened, exhausted, extenuated as he is, how can he endureit? He cannot; that is evident. It would take another miracle tosave him now; and you may rest assured it won't be done. In lessthan twenty-four hours he will be a dead man, and his assassins willtriumph. "

"Oh!"

The old surgeon's eyes glared with rage; and a sardonic smile curled hislips as he continued, --

"And who could keep those rascals from triumphing? If Daniel dies, youwill be bound to release that scamp, the wretched murderer whom you keepimprisoned, --that man Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; for there will be noevidence. Or, if you send him before a court, he will be declared guiltyof involuntary homicide. And yet you know, as well as I do, he haswantonly fired at one of the noblest creatures I have ever known. And, when he has served his term, he will receive the price of Champcey'slife, and he will spend it in orgies; and the others, the truecriminals, who have hired him, will go about the world with lofty pride, rich, honored, and haughty. "

"Doctor!"

But the old original was not to be stopped. He went on, --

"Ah, let me alone! Your human justice, --do you want me to tell you whatI think of it? I am ashamed of it! When you send every year three orfour stupid murderers to the scaffold, and some dozens of miserablethieves to the penitentiary, you fold your black gowns around you, andproudly proclaim that all is well, and that society, thus protected, maysleep soundly. Well, do you know what is the real state of things? Youonly catch the stupid, the fools. The others, the strong, escape betweenthe meshes of your laws, and, relying on their cleverness and your wantof power, they enjoy the fruit of their crimes in all the pride of theirimpunity, until"--

He hesitated, and added, unlike his usual protestations of atheism, --

"Until the day of divine judgment. "

Far from appearing hurt by such an outburst of indignation, themagistrate, after having listened with impassive face, said, as soon asthe doctor stopped for want of breath, --

"You must have discovered something new. "

"Most assuredly. I think I hold at last the thread of the fearful plotwhich is killing my poor Daniel. Ah, if he would but live! But he cannotlive. "

"Well, well, console yourself, doctor. You said human justice has itslimits, and hosts of criminals escape its vengeance; but in this case, whether Lieut. Champcey live or die, justice shall be done, I promiseyou!"

He spoke in a tone of such absolute certainty, that the old surgeon wasstruck by it. He exclaimed, --

"Has the murderer confessed the crime?"

The magistrate shook his head. 

"No, " he replied; "nor have I seen him again since the firstexamination. But I have not been asleep. I have been searching; and Ithink I have sufficient evidence now to bring out the truth. And if you, on your side, have any positive information"--

"Yes, I have; and I think I am justified now in communicating it to you. I have, besides, a letter"--

He was pulling the letter out of his pocket; but the magistrate stoppedhim, saying, --

"We cannot talk here in the middle of the court, where everybody canwatch us from the windows. The court-room is quite near: suppose we gothere, doctor. "

For all answer the surgeon put on his cap firmly, took his friend's arm, and the next moment the soldier on duty at the gate of the hospitalsaw them go out, engaged in a most animated conversation. When they hadreached the magistrate's room, he shut the door carefully; and, afterhaving invited the surgeon to take a seat, he said:--

"I shall ask you for your information in a moment. First listen to whatI have to say. I know now who Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, really is; and I know the principal events of his life. Ah! it hascost me time and labor enough; but human justice is patient, doctor. Considering that this man had sailed on board 'The Conquest' for morethan four months, in company with one hundred and fifty emigrants, Ithought it would be unlikely that he should not have tried to breakthe monotony of such a voyage by long talks with friends. He is a goodspeaker, a Parisian, a former soldier, and a great traveller. He was, no doubt, always sure of an audience. I sent, therefore, one by one, forall the former passengers on board 'The Conquest, ' whom I could find, a hundred, perhaps; and I examined them. I soon found out that mypresumption was not unfounded. 

"Almost every one of them had found out some detail of Bagnolet'slife, some more, some less, according to the degree of honesty ordemoralization which Bagnolet thought he discovered in them. I collectedall the depositions of these witnesses; I completed and compared them, one by the other; and thus, by means of the confessions of the accused, certain allusions and confidences of his made to others, and hisindiscretions when he was drunk, I was enabled to make up his biographywith a precision which is not likely to be doubted. "

Without seeming to notice the doctor's astonishment, he opened a largecase on his table; and, drawing from it a huge bundle of papers, he heldit up in the air, saying, --

"Here are the verbal depositions of my hundred and odd witnesses. "

Then, pointing at four or five sheets of paper, which were covered withvery fine and close writing, he added, --

"And here are my extracts. Now, doctor, listen, --"

And at once he commenced reading this biography of his "accused, " makingoccasional remarks, and explaining what he had written. 

"_Evariste Crochard_, surnamed _Bagnolet_, was born at Bagnolet in 1829, and is, consequently, older than he says, although he looks younger. Hewas born in February; and this month is determined by the depositionof a witness, to whom the accused offered, during the voyage, a bottle, with the words, 'To-day is my birthday. '

"From all the accounts of the accused, it appears that his parentswere evidently very honest people. His father was foreman in a copperfoundry; and his mother a seamstress. They may be still living; but formany years they have not seen their son. 

"The accused was sent to school; and, if you believe him, he learnedquickly, and showed remarkable talents. But from his twelfth year hejoined several bad companions of his age, and frequently abandoned hishome for weeks, roaming about Paris. How did he support himself while hewas thus vagabondizing?

"He has never given a satisfactory explanation. But he has made suchprecise statements about the manner in which youthful thieves maintainthemselves in the capital, that many witnesses suspect him of havinghelped them in robbing open stalls in the streets. 

"The positive result of these investigations is, that his father, distressed by his misconduct, and despairing of ever seeing him mend hisways, had him sent to a house of correction when he was fourteen yearsold. 

"Released at the end of eighteen months, he says he was bound out asan apprentice, and soon learned his business well enough to supporthimself. This last allegation, however, cannot be true; for fourwitnesses, of whom one at least is of the same profession as Crochard, declare that they have seen him at work, and that, if he ever was askilled mechanic, he is so no longer. Besides, he cannot have been longat work; for he had been a year in prison again, when the revolutionof 1848 began. This fact he has himself stated to more than twenty-fivepersons. But he has explained his imprisonment very differently; andalmost every witness has received a new version. One was told that hehad been sentenced for having stabbed one of his companions while drunk;another, that it was for a row in a drinking-saloon; and a third, thathe was innocently involved with others in an attempt to rob a foreigner. 

"The prosecution is, therefore, entitled to conclude fairly thatCrochard was sentenced simply as a thief. 

"Set free soon after the revolution, he did not resume his profession, but secured a place as machinist in a theatre on the boulevards. At theend of three months he was turned off, because of 'improper conduct withwomen, ' according to one; or, if we believe another statement, becausehe was accused of a robbery committed in one of the boxes. 

"Unable to procure work, he engaged himself as groom in a wanderingcircus, and thus travelled through the provinces. But at Marseilles, he is wounded in a fight, and has to go to a hospital, where he remainsthree months. 

"After his return to Paris, he associated himself with a rope-dancer, but was soon called upon to enter the army. He escaped conscription bygood luck. But the next year we find him negotiating with a dealer insubstitutes; and he confesses having sold himself purely from a maddesire to possess fifteen hundred francs at once, and to be able tospend them in debauch. Having successfully concealed his antecedents, he is next admitted as substitute in the B Regiment of the line; but, before a year had elapsed, his insubordination has caused him to be sentto Africa as a punishment. 

"He remained there sixteen months, and conducted himself well enough tobe incorporated in the First Regiment of Marines, one battalion of whichwas to be sent to Senegambia. He had, however, by no means given uphis bad ways; for he was very soon after condemned to ten years' penalservitude for having broken into a house by night as a robber. "

The chief surgeon, who had for some time given unmistakable signs ofimpatience, now rose all of a sudden, and said, --

"Pardon me, if I interrupt you, sir; but can you rely upon the veracityof your witnesses?"

"Why should I doubt them?"

"Because it seems to me very improbable that a cunning fellow, such asthis Crochard seems to be, should have denounced himself. "

"But he has not denounced himself. "

"Ah?"

"He has often mentioned this condemnation; but he has always attributedit to acts of violence against a superior; On that point he has nevervaried in his statements. "

"Then how on earth did you learn"--

"The truth? Oh, very simply. _I_ inquired at Saigon; and I succeededin finding a sergeant in the Second Regiment of Marines, who was inthe First Regiment at the same time with Crochard. He gave me all thesedetails. And there is no mistake about the identity; for, as soon asI said 'Crochard' the sergeant exclaimed, 'Oh, yes! Crochard, surnamedBagnolet. '"

And, as the doctor bowed without saying a word, the magistrate said, --

"I resume the account. The statements of the accused since his arrestare too insignificant to be here reported. There is only one peculiarityof importance for the prosecution, which may possibly serve to enable usto trace the instigators of this crime. On three occasions, and in thepresence of, at least, three witnesses each time, Crochard has used, inalmost the same terms, these words, --

"'No one would believe the strange acquaintances one makes in prisons. You meet there young men of family, who have done a foolish thing, and lots of people, who, wishing to make a fortune all at once, had nochance. When they come out from there, many of these fellows get intovery good positions; and then, if you meet them, they don't know you. Ihave known some people there, who now ride in their carriages. '"

The doctor had become silent. 

"Oh!" he said half aloud, "might not some of these people whom theassassin has known in prison have put arms in his hand?"

"That is the very question I asked myself. "

"Because, you see, some of Daniel's enemies are fearful people; and ifyou knew what is in this letter here in my hand, which, no doubt, willbe the cause of that poor boy's death"--

"Allow me to finish, doctor, " said the man of law. And then, morerapidly, he went on, --

"Here follows a blank. How the accused lived in Paris, to which hehad returned after his release, is not known. Did he resort to meancheating, or to improper enterprises, in order to satisfy his passions?The prosecution is reduced to conjectures, since Crochard has refused togive details, and only makes very general statements as to these years. 

"This fact only is established, that every thing he took with him whenhe left Paris was new, --his tools, the linen in his valise, the clotheshe wore, from the cap on his head to his shoes. Why were they all new?"

As the magistrate had now reached the last line on the first sheet, thesurgeon rose, bowed low, and said, --

"Upon my word, sir, I surrender; and I do begin to hope that Lieut. Champcey may still be avenged. "

A smile of pleased pride appeared for a moment on the lips of thelawyer; but assuming his mask of impassiveness instantly again, as if hehad been ashamed of his weakness, he said with delicate irony, --

"I really think human justice may this time reach the guilty. But waitbefore you congratulate me. "

The old surgeon was too candid to make even an attempt at concealing hisastonishment. 

"What!" he said, "you have more evidence still?"

The magistrate gravely shook his head, and said, --

"The biography which I have just read establishes nothing. We do notsucceed by probabilities and presumptions; however strong they are inconvincing a jury. They want and require proof, positive proof, beforethey condemn. Well, such proof I have. "

"Oh!"

From the same box from which he had taken the papers concerning Crochardhe now drew a letter, which he shook in the air with a threateninggesture. "Here is something, " he said, "which was sent to the stateattorney twelve days after the last attempt had been made on M. Champcey's life. Listen!" And he read thus, --

"Sir, --A sailor, who has come over to Boen-Hoa, where I live with mywife, has told us that a certain Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, has shot, and perhaps mortally wounded, Lieut. Champcey of the ship 'Conquest. '

"In connection with this misfortune, my wife thinks, and I also considerit a matter of conscience, that we should make known to you a veryserious matter. 

"One day I happened to be on a yardarm, side by side with Crochard, helping the sailors to furl a sail, when I saw him drop a huge block, which fell upon Lieut. Champcey, and knocked him down. 

"No one else had noticed it; and Crochard instantly pulled up the blockagain. I was just considering whether I ought to report him, when hefell at my feet, and implored me to keep it secret; for he had been veryunfortunate in life, and if I spoke he would be ruined. 

"Thinking that he had been simply awkward, I allowed myself to be moved, and swore to Crochard that the matter should remain between us. Butwhat has happened since proves very clearly, as my wife says, that I waswrong to keep silence; and I am ready now to tell all, whatever may bethe consequences. 

"Still, sir, I beg you will protect me, in case Crochard should think ofavenging himself on me or on my family, --a thing which might very easilyhappen, as he is a very bad man, capable of any thing. 

"As I cannot write, my wife sends you this letter. And we are, with themost profound respect, &c. "

The doctor rubbed his hands violently. 

"And you have seen this blacksmith?" he asked. 

"Certainly! He has been here, he and his wife. Ah! if the man had beenleft to his own counsels, he would have kept it all secret, so terriblyis he afraid of this Crochard; but, fortunately, his wife had morecourage. "

"Decidedly, " growled the surgeon. "The women are, after all, the betterpart of creation. "

The magistrate carefully replaced the letter in the box, and then wenton in his usual calm voice, --

"Thus the first attempt at murder is duly and fully proven. As for thesecond, --the one made on the river, --we are not quite so far advanced. Still I have hopes. I have found out, for instance, that Crochard is afirst-rate swimmer. Only about three months ago he made a bet with oneof the waiters at the hotel where he is engaged, that he would swimacross the Dong-Nai twice, at a place where the current is strongest;and he did it. "

"But that is evidence; is it not?"

"No; it is only a probability in favor of the prosecution. But Ihave another string to my bow. The register on board ship proves thatCrochard went on shore the very evening after the arrival of the vessel. Where, and with whom, did he spend the evening? Not one of my hundredand odd witnesses has seen him that night. And that is not all. No onehas noticed, the next day, that his clothes were wet. Therefore he musthave changed his clothes; and, in order to do that, he must have boughtsome; for he had taken nothing with him out of the ship but what he hadon. Where did he buy these clothes? I mean to find that out as soon asI shall no longer be forced to carry on the investigation secretly, as Ihave done so far. For I never forget one thing, that the real criminalsare in France, and that they will surely escape us, if they hear thattheir wretched accomplice here is in trouble. "

Once more the surgeon drew Henrietta's letter from his pocket, andhanded it to the lawyer, saying, --

"I know who they are, the really guilty ones. I know Daniel'senemies, --Sarah Brandon, Maxime de Brevan, and the others. "

But the magistrate waved back the letter, and replied, --

"It is not enough for us to know them, doctor; we want evidence againstthem, --clear, positive, irrefutable evidence. This evidence we will getfrom Crochard. Oh, I know the ways of these rascals! As soon as they seethey are overwhelmed by the evidence against them, and feel they arein real danger, they hasten to denounce their accomplices, and to aidjustice, with all their perversity to discover them. The accused willdo the same. When I shall have established the fact that he was hiredto murder M. Champcey, he will tell me by whom he was hired; and he willhave to confess that he was thus hired, when I show him how much of themoney he received for the purpose is now left. "

The old surgeon once more jumped up from his chair. 

"What!" he said, "you have found Crochard's treasure?"

"No, " replied the lawyer, "not yet; but"--

He could hardly keep from smiling grimly; but he added at once, --

"But I know where it is, I think. Ah! I can safely say it was not on thefirst day exactly that I saw where the truth probably was hid. I havehad a good deal of perplexity and trouble. Morally sure as I was, afterthe first examination of the accused, that he had a relatively large sumhidden somewhere, I first gave all my attention to his chamber. Assistedby a clever police-agent, I examined that room for a whole fortnight, till I was furious. The furniture was taken to pieces, and examined, the lining taken out of the chairs, and even the paper stripped from thewalls. All in vain. I was in despair, when a thought struck me, --one ofthose simple thoughts which make you wonder why it did not occur to youat once. I said to myself, 'I have found it!' And, anxious to ascertainif I was right, I immediately sent for the man with whom Crochard hadmade the bet about swimming across the Dong-Nai. He came; and--But Iprefer reading you his deposition. "

He took from the large bundle of papers a single sheet, and, assuming anair of great modesty, read the affidavit. 

"_Magistrate_. --At what point of the river did Crochard swim across?

"_Witness_. --A little below the town. 

"_M_. --Where did he undress?

"_W_. --At the place where he went into the water, just opposite thetile-factory of M. Wang-Tai. 

"_M_. --What did he do with his clothes?

"_W_. (very much surprised). --Nothing. 

"_M_. --Excuse me; he must have done something. Try to recollect. 

"_W_. (striking his forehead). --Why, yes! I remember now. When Bagnolethad undressed, I saw he looked annoyed, as if he disliked going into thewater. But no! that was not it. He was afraid about his clothes; and hedid not rest satisfied till I had told him I would keep watch over them. Now, his clothes consisted of a mean pair of trousers and a miserableblouse. As they were in my way, I put them down on the ground, at thefoot of a tree. He had in the meantime done his work, and came back;but, instead of listening to my compliments, he cried furiously, 'My clothes!'--'Well, ' I said, 'they are not lost. There they are. 'Thereupon he pushed me back fiercely, without saying a word, and ranlike a madman to pick up his clothes. "

The chief surgeon was electrified; he rose, and said, --

"I understand; yes, I understand. "

XXV. 

Thus proceeding from one point to another, and by the unaided power ofhis sagacity, coupled with indefatigable activity, the magistratehad succeeded in establishing Crochard's guilt, and the existence ofaccomplices who had instigated the crime. No one could doubt that he wasproud of it, and that his self-esteem had increased, although hetried hard to preserve his stiff and impassive appearance. He had evenaffected a certain dislike to the idea of reading Henrietta's letter, until he should have proved that he could afford to do without suchassistance. 

But, now that he had proved this so amply, he very quickly asked for theletter, and read it. Like the chief surgeon, he, also, was struck andamazed by the wickedness of M. De Brevan. 

"But here is exactly what we want, " he exclaimed, --"an irrefragableproof of complicity. He would never have dared to abuse Miss Ville-Handry's confidence in so infamous a manner, if he had not beenpersuaded, in fact been quite sure, that Lieut. Champcey would neverreturn to France. "

Then, after a few minutes' reflection, he added, --

"And yet I feel that there is something underneath still, which we donot see. Why had they determined upon M. Champcey's death even beforehe sailed? What direct and pressing interest could M. De Brevan have inwishing him dead at that time? Something must have happened between thetwo which we do not know. "

"What?"

"Ah! that is what I cannot conceive. But remember what I say, doctor:the future reserves some fearful mysteries yet to be revealed to ushereafter. "

The two men had been so entirely preoccupied with their thoughts, thatthey were unconscious of the flight of time; and they were not a littleastonished, therefore, when they now noticed that the day was gone, andnight was approaching. The lawyer rose, and asked, returning Henrietta'sletter to the doctor, --

"Is this the only one M. Champcey has received?"

"No; but it is the only one he has opened. "

"Would you object to handing me the others?"

The excellent doctor hesitated. 

"I will hand them to you, " he said at last, "if you will assure me thatthe interests of justice require it. But why not wait"--

He did not dare say, "Why not wait for M. Champcey's death?" but thelawyer understood him. 

"I will wait, " he said. 

While thus talking, they had reached the door. They shook hands; and thechief surgeon, his heart fall of darkest presentiments, slowly made hisway to the hospital. 

A great surprise awaited him there. Daniel, whom he had left in adesperate condition, almost dying, --Daniel slept profoundly, sweetly. His pale face had recovered its usual expression; and his respirationwas free and regular. 

"It is almost indescribable, " said the old doctor, whose experience wasutterly at fault. "I am an ass; and our science is a bubble. "

Turning to Lefloch, who had respectfully risen at his entrance, heasked, --

"Since when has your master been sleeping in this way?"

"For an hour, commandant. "

"How did he fall asleep?"

"Quite naturally, commandant. After you left, the lieutenant was forsome time pretty wild yet; but soon he quieted down, and finally heasked for something to drink. I gave him a cup of your tea; he took it, and then asked me to help him turn over towards the wall. I did so, andI saw him remain so, his arm bent, and his head in his hand, like a manwho is thinking profoundly. But about a quarter of an hour later, allof a sudden, I thought I heard him gasp. I came up softly on tiptoe, andlooked. I was mistaken; the lieutenant was not gasping, he was cryinglike a baby; and what I had heard were sobs. Ah, commandant! I felt asif somebody had kicked me in the stomach. Because, you see, I knowhim; and I know, that, before a man such as he is goes to crying like alittle child, he must have suffered more than death itself. Holy God!If I knew where I could catch them, these rascals who give him all thistrouble"--

His fists rose instinctively, and most undoubtedly something brightstarted from his eyes which looked prodigiously like a tear rollingslowly down one of the deep furrows in his cheek. 

"Now, " he continued in a half-stifled voice, "I saw why the lieutenanthad wished to turn his face to the wall, and I went back without makinga noise. A moment after that, he began talking aloud. But he was rightin his senses now, I tell you. "

"What did he say?"

"Ah! he said something like, 'Henrietta, Henrietta!' Always that goodfriend of his, for whom he was forever calling when he had the fever. And then he said, 'I am killing her, I! I am the cause of her death. Fool, stupid, idiot that I am! He has sworn to kill me and Henrietta, the wretch! He swore it no doubt, the very day on which I, fool as Iwas, confided Henrietta and my whole fortune to him. '"

"Did he say that?"

"The very words, commandant, but better, a great deal better. "

The old surgeon seemed to be amazed. 

"That cunning lawyer had judged rightly, " he said. "He suspected therewas something else; and here it is. "

"You say, commandant?" asked the good sailor. 

"Nothing of interest to you. Go on. "

"Well, after that--but there is nothing more to tell, except that Iheard nothing more. The lieutenant remained in the same position till Icame to light the lamp; then he ordered me to make him tack ship, andto let down the screen over the lamp. I did so. He gave out two or threebig sighs, and then goodnight, and nothing more. He was asleep as yousee him now. "

"And how did his eyes look when he fell asleep?"

"Quite calm and bright. "

The doctor looked like a man to whom something has happened which isutterly inexplicable to him, and said in a low voice, --

"He will pull through, I am sure now. I said there could not be anothermiracle; and here it is!"

Then turning to Lefloch, he asked, --

"You know where I am staying?"

"Yes, commandant. "

"If your officer wakes up in the night, you will send for me at once. "

"Yes, commandant. "

But Daniel did not wake up; and he had hardly opened his eyes on thenext morning, about eight o'clock, when the chief surgeon entered hisroom. At the first glance at his patient, he exclaimed, --

"I am sure our imprudence yesterday will have no bad effects!"

Daniel said nothing; but, after the old surgeon had carefully examinedhim, he began, --

"Now, doctor, one question, a single one: in how many days will I beable to get up and take ship?"

"Ah! my dear lieutenant, there is time enough to talk about that. "

"No, doctor, no! I must have an answer. Fix a time, and I shall have thefortitude to wait; but uncertainty will kill me. Yes, I shall manage towait, although I suffer like"--

The surgeon was evidently deeply touched. 

"I know what you suffer, my poor Champcey, " he said; "I read that letterwhich came much nearer killing you than Crochard's ball. I think in amonth you will be able to sail. "

"A month!" said Daniel in a tone as if he had said an age. And after apause he added, --

"That is not all, doctor: I want to ask you for the letters which Icould not read yesterday. "

"What? You would--But that would be too great an imprudence. "

"No, doctor, don't trouble yourself. The blow has fallen. If I did notlose my mind yesterday, that shows that my reason can stand the mostterrible trial. I have, God be thanked, all my energy. I know I mustlive, if I want to save Henrietta, --to avenge her, if I should come toolate. That thought, you may rest assured, will keep me alive. "

The surgeon hesitated no longer: the next moment Daniel opened the othertwo letters from Henrietta. One, very long, was only a repetition of thefirst he had read. The other consisted only of a few lines:--

"M. De Brevan has just left me. When the man told me mockingly that Ineed not count upon your return, and cast an atrocious look at me, I understood. Daniel, that man wants your life; and he has hiredassassins. For my sake, if not for your own, I beseech you be careful. Take care, be watchful; think that you are the only friend, the solehope here below, of your Henrietta. "

Now it was truly seen that Daniel had not presumed too much on hisstrength and his courage. Not a muscle in his face changed; his eyeremained straight and clear; and he said in an accent of coldest, bitterest irony, --

"Look at this, doctor. Here is the explanation of the strange ill luckthat has pursued me ever since I left France. "

At a glance the doctor read Henrietta's warning, which came, alas! somuch too late. 

"You ought to remember this, also, that M. De Brevan could not foreseethat the assassin he had hired would be caught. "

This was an unexpected revelation; and Daniel was all attention. 

"What?" he said. "The man who fired at me has been arrested?"

Lefloch was unable to restrain himself at this juncture, and replied, --

"I should say so, lieutenant, and by my hand, before his gun had cooledoff. "

The doctor did not wait for the questions which he read in the eyes ofhis patient. He said at once, --

"It is as Lefloch says, my dear lieutenant; and, if you have not beentold anything about it, it was because the slightest excitement wouldbecome fatal. Yesterday's experience has only proved that too clearly. Yes, the assassin is in jail. "

"And his account is made up, " growled the sailor. 

But Daniel shrugged his shoulders, and said, --

"I do not want him punished, any more than the ball which hit me. Thatwretched creature is a mere tool. But, doctor, you know who are the realguilty ones. "

"And justice shall be done, I swear!" broke in the old surgeon, wholooked upon the cause of his patient with as much interest as if it werehis own. "Our lucky star has sent us a lawyer who is no trifler, andwho, if I am not very much mistaken, would like very much to leaveSaigon with a loud blast of trumpets. "

He remained buried in thought for a while, watching his patient out ofthe corner of his eye, and then said suddenly, --

"Now I think of it, why could you not see the lawyer? He is all anxietyto examine you. Consider, lieutenant, do you feel strong enough to seehim?"

"Let him come, " cried Daniel, "let him come! Pray, doctor, go for him atonce!"

"I shall do my best, my dear Champcey. I will go at once, and leave youto finish your correspondence. "

He left the room with these words; and Daniel turned to the letters, which were still lying on his bed. There were seven of them, --four fromthe Countess Sarah, and three from Maxime. But what could they tellhim now? What did he care for the falsehoods and the calumnies theycontained? He ran over them, however. 

Faithful to her system, Sarah wrote volumes; and from line to line, insome way or other, her real or feigned love for Daniel broke forth morefreely, and no longer was veiled and hidden under timid reserve andlong-winded paraphrases. She gave herself up, whether her prudence hadforsaken her, or whether she felt quite sure that her letters couldnever reach Count Ville-Handry. It sounded like an intense, irresistiblepassion, escaping from the control of the owner, and breaking forthterribly, like a long smouldering fire. Of Henrietta she said butlittle, --enough, however, to terrify Daniel, if he had not known thetruth. 

"That unfortunate, wayward girl, " she wrote, "has just caused her agedfather such cruel and unexpected grief, that he was on the brink ofthe grave. Weary of the control which her indiscretions renderedindispensable, she has fled, we know not with whom; and all our effortsto find her have so far been unsuccessful. "

On the other hand, M. De Brevan wrote, "Deaf to my counsel and prayerseven, Miss Ville-Handry has carried out the project of leaving herpaternal home. Suspected of having favored her escape, I have beencalled out by Sir Thorn, and had to fight a duel with him. A paper whichI enclose will give you the details of our meeting, and tell you that Iwas lucky enough to wound that gentleman of little honor, but of greatskill with the pistol. 

"Alas! my poor, excellent Daniel, why should I be compelled by theduties of friendship to confess to you that it was not for the purposeof remaining faithful to you, that Miss Henrietta was so anxious to befree? Do not desire to return, my poor friend! You would suffer too muchin finding her whom you have loved so dearly unworthy of an honestman, unworthy of you. Believe me, I did all I could to prevent herirregularities, which now have become public. I only drew her hatredupon me, and I should not be surprised if she did all she could to makeus all cut our throats. "

This impudence was bold enough to confound anybody's mind, and to makeone doubt one's own good sense. Still he found the newspaper, whichhad been sent to him with the letter, and in it the account of the duelbetween M. De Brevan and M. Thomas Elgin. What did that signify? He oncemore read over, more attentively than at first, the letters of Maximeand the Countess Sarah; and, by comparing them with each other, hethought he noticed in them some traces of a beginning disagreement. 

"It may be that there is discord among my enemies, " he said to himself, "and that they do no longer agree, now that, in their view, the momentapproaches when they are to divide the proceeds of their crimes. Or didthey never agree, and am I the victim of a double plot? Or is the wholemerely a comedy for the purpose of deceiving me, and keeping me here, until the murderer has done his work?"

He was not allowed to torture his mind long with efforts to seek thesolution of this riddle. The old doctor came back with the lawyer, andfor more than half an hour he had to answer an avalanche of questions. But the investigation had been carried on with such rare sagacity, that Daniel could furnish the prosecution only a single new fact, --thesurrender of his entire fortune into the hands of M. De Brevan. 

And even this fact must needs, on account of its extreme improbability, remain untold in an investigation which was based upon logic alone. Daniel very naturally, somewhat ashamed of his imprudence, tried toexcuse himself; and, when he had concluded his explanations, the lawyersaid, --

"Now, one more question: would you recognize the man who attempted todrown you in the Dong-Nai in a boat which he had offered to you, andwhich he upset evidently on purpose?"

"No, sir. "

"Ah! that is a pity. That man was Crochard, I am sure; but he will denyit; and the prosecution will have nothing but probabilities to oppose tohis denial, unless I can find the place where he changed his clothes. "

"Excuse me, there is a way to ascertain his identity. "

"How?"

"The voice of the wretch is so deeply engraven on my mind, that evenat this moment, while I am speaking to you, I think I can hear it in myear; and I would recognize it among a thousand. "

The lawyer made no reply, weighing, no doubt, in his mind the chances ofa confrontation. Then he made up his mind, and said, --

"It is worth trying. "

And handing his clerk, who had been a silent witness of this scene, anorder to have the accused brought to the hospital, he said, --

"Take this to the jail, and let them make haste. "

It was a month now since Crochard had been arrested; and hisimprisonment, so far from discouraging him, had raised his spirits. Atfirst, his arrest and the examination had frightened him; but, as thedays went by, he recovered his insolence. 

"They are evidently looking for evidence, " he said; "but, as they cannotfind any, they will have to let me go. "

He looked, therefore, as self-assured as ever when he came into Daniel'sroom, and exclaimed, while still in the door, with an air of intolerablearrogance, --

"Well? I ask for justice; I am tired of jail. If I am guilty, let themcut my throat; if I am innocent"--

But Daniel did not let him finish. 

"That is the man!" he exclaimed; "I am ready to swear to it, that is theman!"

Great as was the impudence of Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, he wasastonished, and looked with rapid, restless eyes at the chief surgeon, at the magistrate, and last at Lefloch, who stood immovable at the footof the bed of his lieutenant. He had too much experience of legal formsnot to know that he had given way to absurd illusions, --and that hisposition was far more dangerous than he had imagined. But what was theirpurpose? what had they found out? and what did they know positively?The effort he made to guess all this gave to his face an atrociousexpression. 

"Did you hear that, Crochard?" asked the lawyer. 

But the accused had recovered his self-control by a great effort; and hereplied, --

"I am not deaf. " And there was in his voice the unmistakable accentof the former vagabond of Paris. "I hear perfectly well; only I don'tunderstand. "

The magistrate, finding that, where he was seated, he could not verywell observe Crochard, had quietly gotten up, and was now standing nearthe mantle-piece, against which he rested. 

"On the contrary, " he said severely, "you understand but too well Lieut. Champcey says you are the man who tried to drown him in the Dong-Nai. Herecognizes you. "

"That's impossible!" exclaimed the accused. "That's impossible; for"--

But the rest of the phrase remained in his throat. A sudden reflectionhad shown him the trap in which he had been caught, --a trap quitefamiliar to examining lawyers, and terrible by its very simplicity. Butfor that reflection, he would have gone on thus, --

"That's impossible; for the night was too dark to distinguish a man'sfeatures. "

And that would have been equivalent to a confession; and he would havehad nothing to answer the magistrate, if the latter had asked at once, --

"How do you know that the darkness was so great on the banks of theDong-Nai? It seems you were there, eh?"

Quite pallid with fright, the accused simply said, --

"The officer must be mistaken. "

"I think not, " replied the magistrate. 

Turning to Daniel, he asked him, --

"Do you persist in your declaration, lieutenant?"

"More than ever, sir; I declare upon honor that I recognize theman's voice. When he offered me a boat, he spoke a kind of almostunintelligible jargon, a mixture of English and Spanish words; but hedid not think of changing his intonation and his accent. "

Affecting an assurance which he was far from really feeling, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and said, --

"Do I know any English? Do I know any Spanish?"

"No, very likely not; but like all Frenchmen who live in this colony, and like all the marines, you no doubt know a certain number of words ofthese two languages. "

To the great surprise of the doctor and of Daniel, the prisoner did notdeny it; it looked as if he felt that he was on dangerous ground. 

"Never mind!" he exclaimed in the most arrogant manner. "It is anyhowpretty hard to accuse an honest man of a crime, because his voiceresembles the voice of a rascal. "

The magistrate gently shook his head. He said, --

"Do you pretend being an honest man?"

"What! I pretend? Let them send for my employers. "

"That is not necessary. I know your antecedents, from the first pettytheft that procured you four months' imprisonment, to the aggravatedrobbery for which you were sent to the penitentiary, when you were inthe army. "

Profound stupor lengthened all of Crochard's features; but he wasnot the man to give up a game in which his head was at stake, withoutfighting for it. 

"Well, there you are mistaken, " he said very coolly. "I have beencondemned to ten years, that is true, when I was a soldier; but it wasfor having struck an officer who had punished me unjustly. "

"You lie. A former soldier of your regiment, who is now in garrison herein Saigon, will prove it. "

For the first time the accused seemed to be really troubled. He saw allof a sudden his past rising before him, which until now he had thoughtunknown or forgotten; and he knew full well the weight which antecedentslike his would have in the scales of justice. So he changed his tactics;and, assuming an abject humility, he said, --

"One may have committed a fault, and still be incapable of murdering aman. "

"That is not your case. "

"Oh! how can you say such a thing?--I who would not harm a fly. Unluckygun! Must I needs have such a mishap?"

The magistrate had for some time been looking at the accused with an airof the most profound disgust. He interrupted him rudely now, and said, --

"Look here, my man! Spare us those useless denials. Justice knowseverything it wants to know. That shot was the third attempt you made tomurder a man. "

Crochard drew back. He looked livid. But he had still the strength tosay in a half-strangled voice, --

"That is false!"

But the magistrate had too great an abundance of evidence to allow theexamination to continue. He said simply, --

"Who, then, threw, during the voyage, an enormous block at M. Champcey'shead? Come, don't deny it. The emigrant who was near you, who saw you, and who promised he would not report you at that time, has spoken. Doyou want to see him?"

Once more Crochard opened his lips to protest his innocence; but hecould not utter a sound. He was crushed, annihilated; he trembled in allhis limbs; and his teeth rattled in his mouth. In less than no time, hisfeatures had sunk in, as it were, till he looked like a man at the footof the scaffold. It may be, that, feeling he was irretrievably lost, hehad had a vision of the fatal instrument. 

"Believe me, " continued the lawyer, "do not insist upon the impossible;you had better tell the truth. "

For another minute yet, the miserable man hesitated. Then, seeing noother chance of safety, except the mercy of the judges, he fell heavilyon his knees, and stammered out, --

"I am a wretched man. "

At the same instant a cry of astonishment burst from the doctor, fromDaniel, and the worthy Lefloch. But the man of law was not surprised. Heknew in advance that the first victory would be easily won, and that thereal difficulty would be to induce the prisoner to confess the name ofhis principal. Without giving him, therefore time to recover, he said, --

"Now, what reasons had you for persecuting M. Champcey in this way?"

The accused rose again; and, making an effort, he said slowly, --

"I hated him. Once during the voyage he had threatened to have me put inirons. "

"The man lies!" said Daniel. 

"Do you hear?" asked the lawyer. "So you will not tell the truth? Well, I will tell it for you. They had hired you to kill Lieut. Champcey, and you wanted to earn your money. You got a certain sum of money inadvance; and you were to receive a larger sum after his death. "

"I swear"--

"Don't swear! The sum in your possession, which you cannot account for, is positive proof of what I say. "

"Alas! I possess nothing. You may inquire. You may order a search. "

Under the impassive mask of the lawyer, a certain degree of excitementcould at this moment be easily discerned. The time had come to strikea decisive blow, and to judge of the value of his system of induction. Instead, therefore, of replying to the prisoner, he turned to thegendarmes who were present and said to them, --

"Take the prisoner into the next room. Strip him, and examine all hisclothes carefully: see to it that there is nothing hid in the lining. "

The gendarmes advanced to seize the prisoner, when he suddenly jumpedup, and said in a tone of ill-constrained rage, --

"No need for that! I have three one thousand-franc-notes sewn into thelining of my trousers. "

This time the pride of success got completely the better of theimperturbable coldness of the magistrate. He uttered a low cry ofsatisfaction, and could not refrain from casting a look of triumph atDaniel and the doctor, which said clearly, --

"Well? What did I tell you?"

It was for a second only; the next instant his features resumed theiricy immobility; and, turning to the accused, he said in a tone ofcommand, --

"Hand me the notes!"

Crochard did not stir; but his livid countenance betrayed the fiercesuffering he endured. Certainly, at this moment, he did not play a part. To take from him his three thousand francs, the price of the meanest andmost execrable crime; the three thousand francs for the sake of which hehad risked the scaffold, --this was like tearing his entrails from him. 

Like an enraged brute who sees that the enemy is all-powerful, hegathered all his strength, and, with a furious look, glanced around theroom to see if he could escape anywhere, asking himself, perhaps, uponwhich of the men he ought to throw himself for the purpose. 

"The notes!" repeated the inexorable lawyer. "Must I order force to beused?"

Convinced of the uselessness of resistance, and of the folly of anyattempt at escape, the wretch hung his head. 

"But I cannot undo the seams of my trousers with my nails, " he said. "Let them give me a knife or a pair of scissors. "

They were careful not to do so. But, at a sign given by the magistrate, one of the gendarmes approached, and, drawing a penknife from hispocket, ripped the seam at the place which the prisoner pointed out. A genuine convulsion of rage seized the assassin, when a little paperparcel appeared, folded up, and compressed to the smallest possiblesize. By a very curious phenomenon, which is, however, quite frequentlyobserved in criminals, he was far more concerned about his money thanabout his life, which was in such imminent danger. 

"That is my money!" he raged. "No one has a right to take it from me. Itis infamous to ill use a man who has been unfortunate, and to rob him. "

The magistrate, no doubt quite accustomed to such scenes, did not evenlisten to Crochard, but carefully opened the packet. It contained threenotes of a thousand francs each, wrapped up in a sheet of letter-paper, which was all greasy, and worn out in the folds. The bank-notes hadnothing peculiar; but on the sheet of paper, traces could be made outof lines of writing; and at least two words were distinctlylegible, --_University_ and _Street_. 

"What paper is this, Crochard?" asked the lawyer. 

"I don't know. I suppose I picked it up somewhere. "

"What? Are you going to lie again? What is the use? Here is evidentlythe address of some one who lives in University Street. "

Daniel was trembling on his bed. 

"Ah, sir!" he exclaimed, "I used to live in University Street, Paris. "

A slight blush passed over the lawyer's face, a sign of unequivocalsatisfaction in him. He uttered half loud, as if replying to certainobjections in his own mind, --

"Everything is becoming clear. "

And yet, to the great surprise of his listeners, he abandoned thispoint; and, returning to the prisoner, he asked him, --

"So you acknowledge having received money for the murder of Lieut. Champcey?"

"I never said so. "

"No; but the three thousand francs found concealed on your person say sovery clearly. From whom did you receive this money?"

"From nobody. They are my savings. "

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders; and, looking very sternly atCrochard, he said, --

"I have before compelled you to make a certain confession. I mean todo so again and again. You will gain nothing, believe me, by strugglingagainst justice; and you cannot save the wretches who tempted you tocommit this crime. There is only one way left to you, if you wish formercy; and that is frankness. Do not forget that!"

The assassin was, perhaps, better able to appreciate the importance ofsuch advice than anybody else there present. Still he remained silentfor more than a minute, shaken by a kind of nervous tremor, as if aterrible struggle was going on in his heart. He was heard to mutter, --

"I do not denounce anybody. A bargain is a bargain. I am not a tell-tale. "

Then, all of a sudden, making up his mind, and showing himself just theman the magistrate had expected to find, he said with a cynic laugh, --

"Upon my word, so much the worse for them! Since I am in the trap, letthe others be caught as well! Besides, who would have gotten the bigprize, if I had succeeded? Not I, most assuredly; and yet it was I whorisked most. Well, then, the man who hired me to 'do the lieutenant'sbusiness' is a certain Justin Chevassat. "

The most intense disappointment seized both Daniel and the surgeon. Thiswas not the name they had been looking for with such deep anxiety. 

"Don't you deceive me, Crochard?" asked the lawyer, who alone had beenable to conceal all he felt. 

"You may take my head if I lie!"

Did he tell the truth? The lawyer thought he did; for, turning toDaniel, he asked, --

"Do you know anybody by the name of Chevassat, M. Champcey?"

"No. It is the first time in my life I hear that name. "

"Perhaps that Chevassat was only an agent, " suggested the doctor. 

"Yes, that may be, " replied the lawyer; "although, in such matters, people generally do their own work. "

And, continuing his examination, he asked the accused, --

"Who is this Justin Chevassat?"

"One of my friends. "

"A friend richer than yourself, I should think?"

"As to that--why, yes; since he has always plenty of money in hispockets, dresses in the last fashion, and drives his carriage. "

"What is he doing? What is his profession?"

"Ah! as to that, I know nothing about it. I never asked him, andhe never told me. I once said to him, 'Do you know you look like aprodigiously lucky fellow?' And he replied, 'Oh, not as much so as youthink;' but that is all. "

"Where does he live?"

"In Paris, Rue Louis, 39. "

"Do you write to him there? For I dare say you have written to him sinceyou have been in Saigon. "

"I send my letters to M. X. O. X. 88. "

It became evident now, that, so far from endeavoring to save hisaccomplices, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, would do all he could toaid justice in discovering them. He began to show the system which thewretch was about to adopt, --to throw all the responsibility and all theodium of the crime on the man who had hired him, and to appear the poordevil, succumbing to destitution when he was tempted and dazzled by suchmagnificent promises, that he had not the strength to resist. The lawyercontinued, --

"Where and how did you make the acquaintance of this Justin Chevassat?"

"I made his acquaintance at the galleys. "

"Ah! that is becoming interesting. And do you know for what crime he hadbeen condemned?"

"For forgery, I believe, and also for theft. "

"And what was he doing before he was condemned?"

"He was employed by a banker, or perhaps as cashier in some largeestablishment. At all events, he had money to handle; and it stuck tohis fingers. "

"I am surprised, as you are so well informed with regard to this man'santecedents, that you should know nothing of his present means ofexistence. "

"He has money, plenty of money; that is all I know. "

"Have you lost sight of him?"

"Why, yes. Chevassat was set free long before I was. I believe he waspardoned; and I had not met him for more than fifteen years. "

"How did you find him again?"

"Oh! by the merest chance, and a very bad chance for me; since, but forhim, I would not be here. "

XXVI. 

Never would a stranger who should have suddenly come into Daniel'schamber, upon seeing Crochard's attitude, have imagined that thewretch was accused of a capital crime, and was standing there beforea magistrate, in presence of the man whom he had tried three times toassassinate. 

Quite at home in the law, as far as it was studied at the galleys, hehad instantly recognized that his situation was by no means so desperateas he had at first supposed; that, if the jury rendered a verdict ofguilty of death, it would be against the instigator of the crime, andthat he would probably get off with a few years' penal servitude. 

Hence he had made up his mind about his situation with that almostbestial indifference which characterizes people who are ready foreverything, and prepared for everything. He had recovered from thatstupor which the discovery of his crime had produced in him, and fromthe rage in which he had been thrown by the loss of his bank-notes. Now there appeared, under the odious personage of the murderer, thepretentious and ridiculous orator of the streets and prisons, who isaccustomed to make himself heard, and displays his eloquence with greatpride. 

He assumed a studied position; and it was evident that he was preparinghimself for his speech, although, afterwards, a good many words escapedhim which are found in no dictionary, but belong to the jargon of thelowest classes, and serve to express the vilest sentiments. 

"It was, " he began, "a Friday, an unlucky day, --a week, about, before'The Conquest' sailed. It might have been two o'clock. I had eatennothing; I had not a cent in my pockets and I was walking along theboulevards, loafing, and thinking how I could procure some money. 

"I had crossed several streets, when a carriage stopped close to me; andI saw a very fine gentleman step out, a cigar in his mouth, a goldchain across his waistcoat, and a flower in his buttonhole. He entered aglove-shop. 

"At once I said to myself, 'Curious! I have seen that head somewhere. '

"Thereupon, I go to work, and remain fixed to the front of the shop, alittle at the side, though, you know, at a place where, without beingseen myself, I could very well watch my individual, who laughed andtalked, showing his white teeth, while a pretty girl was trying ona pair of gloves. The more I looked at him, the more I thought, 'Positively, Bagnolet, although that sweet soul don't look as if he werea member of your society, you know him. '

"However, as I could not put a name to that figure, I was going on myway, when suddenly my memory came back to me, and I said, '_Cretonne_, it is an old comrade. I shall get my dinner. '

"After all, I was not positively sure; because why? Fifteen years make adifference in a man, especially when he does not particularly care to berecognized. But I had a little way of my own to make the thing sure. 

"I waited, therefore, for my man; and, at the moment when he crossed thesidewalk to get into his carriage, I stepped up, and cried out, thoughnot very loud, 'Eh, Chevassat!'

"The scamp! They might have fired a cannon at his ear, and he would nothave jumped as he did when I spoke to him. And white he was, --as whiteas his collar. But, nevertheless, he was not without his compass, thescrew. He puts up his eyeglass, and looks at me up and down; and then hesays in his finest manner, 'What is it, my good fellow? Do you want tospeak to me?'

"Thereupon, quite sure of my business now, I say, 'Yes, to you, JustinChevassat. Don't you recall me? Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet;eh? Do you recollect now?' However, the gentleman continued to hold hishead high, and to look at me. At last he says, '_If_ you do not clearout, I will call a policeman. ' Well, the mustard got into my nose, and Ibegan to cry, to annoy him, so as to collect a crowd, --

"'What, what! Policemen, just call them, please do! They will take usbefore a magistrate. If I am mistaken, they won't hang me; but, if I amnot mistaken, they will laugh prodigiously. What have I to risk? Nothingat all; for I have nothing. '

"I must tell you, that, while I said all this, I looked at him fixedlywith the air of a man who has nothing in his stomach, and who is bentupon putting something into it. He also looked at me fixedly; and, ifhis eyes had been pistols--but they were not. And, when he saw I wasdetermined, the fine gentleman softened down. 

"'Make no noise, ' he whispered, looking with a frightened air at all theidlers who commenced to crowd around us. And pretending to laughvery merrily, --for the benefit of the spectators, you know, --he said, speaking very low and very rapidly, --

"'In the costume that you have on, I cannot ask you to get into mycarriage; that would only compromise us both uselessly. I shall send mycoachman back, and walk home. You can follow quietly; and, when we getinto a quiet street, we will take a cab, and talk. '

"As I was sure I could catch him again, if he should try to escape, Iapproved the idea. 'All right. I understand. '"

The magistrate suddenly interrupted the accused. He thought it of greatimportance that Crochard's evidence should be written down, word forword; and he saw, that, for some little while, the clerk had been unableto follow. 

"Rest a moment, Crochard, " he said. 

And when the clerk had filled up what was wanting, and the magistratehad looked it over, he said to the prisoner, --

"Now you can go on, but speak more slowly. "

The wretch smiled, well pleased. This permission gave him more time toselect his words, and this flattered his vanity; for even the lowest ofthese criminals have their weak point, in which their vanity is engaged. 

"Don't let your soup get cold, " he continued. "Chevassat said afew words to his coachman, who whipped the horse, and there he was, promenading down the boulevard, turning his cane this way, puffing outbig clouds of smoke, as if he had not the colic at the thought that hisfriend Bagnolet was following on his heels. 

"I ought to say that he had lots of friends, very genteel friends, whowished him good-evening as they passed him. There were some even whostopped him, shook hands with him, and offered to treat him; but he leftthem all promptly, saying, 'Excuse me, pray, I am in a hurry. '

"Why, yes, he was in a hurry; and I who was behind him, and saw andheard it all, I laughed in my sleeve most heartily. "

Whatever advantage there may be in not interrupting a great talker, whowarms up as he talks, and consequently forgets himself, the magistratebecame impatient. 

"Spare us your impressions, " he said peremptorily. 

This was not what Crochard expected. He looked hurt, and went onangrily, --

"In fine, my individual goes down the boulevard as far as the opera, turns to the right, crosses the open square, and goes down the firststreet to the left. Here a cab passes; he hails it; orders the driver totake _us_ to Vincennes. We get in; and his first care is to let downthe curtains. Then he looks at me with a smile, holds out his hand, andsays, 'Well, old man! how are you?'

"At first, when I saw myself so well received, I was quite overcome. Then reflecting, I thought, 'It is not natural for him to be so soft. Heis getting ready for some trick. Keep your eyes open, Bagnolet. '

"'Then you are not angry that I spoke to you; eh?' He laughs, and says, 'No. '

"Then I, 'However, you hadn't exactly a wedding-air when I spoke toyou, and I thought you were looking for a way to get rid of meunceremoniously. ' But he said very seriously, 'Look here, I am going totalk to you quite openly! For a moment I was surprised; but I was notannoyed. I have long foreseen something of the kind would happen; andI know that every time I go out I run the risk of meeting a formercomrade. You are not the first who has recognized me, and I am preparedto save myself all annoyance. If I wanted to get rid of you, thisvery evening you would have lost all trace of me, thanks to a littlecontrivance I have arranged. Besides, as you are in Paris without leave, before twenty-four hours are over, you would _be_ in jail. ' He told meall this so calmly, that I felt it was so, and that the scamp had somespecial trick. 

"'Then, ' I said, 'you rather like meeting an old friend, eh?'

"He looked me straight in the face and replied, 'Yes; and the proof ofit is, that if you were not here, sitting at my side, and if I had knownwhere to find you, I should have gone in search of you. I have somethingto do for you. '"

Henceforth Bagnolet had reason to be satisfied. 

Although the magistrate preserved his impassive appearance, Daniel andthe chief surgeon listened with breathless attention, feeling that theprisoner had come to the really important part of his confession, fromwhich, no doubt, much light would be obtained. Lefloch himself listenedwith open mouth; and one could follow on his ingenuous countenance allthe emotions produced by the recital of the criminal, who, but for him, would probably have escaped justice. 

"Naturally, " continued Crochard, "when he talked of something to do, I opened my ears wide. 'Why, ' I said, 'I thought you had retired frombusiness. ' And I really thought he had. 'You are mistaken, ' he replied. 'Since I left that place you know of, I have been living nicely. ButI have not put anything aside; and if an accident should happen to me, which I have reason to fear, I would be destitute. '

"I should have liked very much to know more; but he would not tell meanything else concerning himself; and I had to give him my whole historysince my release. Oh! that was soon done. I told him how nothing I hadundertaken had ever succeeded; that, finally, I had been a waiter in adrinking-shop; that they had turned me out; and that for a month nowI had been walking the streets, having not a cent, no clothes, nolodgings, and no bed but the quarries. 

"'Since that is so, ' he said, 'you shall see what a comrade is. ' I oughtto say that the cab had been going all the time we were talking, andthat we were out in the suburbs now. My Chevassat raised the blind tolook out; and, as soon as he saw a clothing store, he ordered the driverto stop there. The driver did so; and then Chevassat said to me, 'Come, old man, we'll begin by dressing you up decently. ' So we get out; andupon my word, he buys me a shirt, trousers, a coat, and everything elsethat was needful; he pays for a silk hat, and a pair of varnishedboots. Farther down the street was a watchmaker. I declare he makes me apresent of a gold watch, which I still have, and which they seized whenthey put me in jail. Finally, he has spent his five hundred francs, andgives me eighty francs to boot, to play the gentleman. 

"You need not ask if I thanked him, when we got back into the cab. Aftersuch misery as I had endured, my morals came back with my clothes. Iwould have jumped into the fire for Chevassat. Alas! I would not havebeen so delighted, if I had known what I should have to pay for allthis; for in the first place"--

"Oh, go on!" broke in the lawyer; "go on!"

Not without some disappointment, Crochard had to acknowledge thateverything purely personal did not seem to excite the deepest interest. He made a face, full of spite, and then went on, speaking morerapidly, --

"All these purchases had taken some time; so that it was six o'clock, and almost dark, when we reached Vincennes. A little before we got intothe town, Chevassat stopped the cab, paid the driver, sends him back, and, taking me by the arm, says, 'You must be hungry: let us dine. '

"So we first absorb a glass of absinthe; then he carries me straight tothe best restaurant, asks for a private room, and orders a dinner. Ah, but a dinner! Merely to hear it ordered from the bill of fare made mymouth water. 

"We sit down; and I, fearing nothing, would not have changed places withthe pope. And I talked, and I ate, and I drank; I drank, perhaps, most;for I had not had anything to drink for a long time; and, finally, I wasrather excited. Chevassat seemed to have unbuttoned, and told me lots offunny things which set me a-laughing heartily. But when the coffee hadbeen brought, with liquors in abundance, and cigars at ten cents apiece, my individual rises, and pushes the latch in the door; for there was alatch. 

"Then he comes back, and sits down right in front of me, with his elbowson the table. 'Now, old man, ' he says, 'we have had enough laughing andtalking. I am a good fellow, you know; but you understand that I am nottreating you for the sake of your pretty face alone. I want a good stoutfellow; and I thought you might be the man. '

"Upon my word, he told me that in such a peculiar way, that I felt as ifsomebody had kicked me in the stomach; and I began to be afraid of him. Still I concealed my fears, and said, 'Well, let us see; go it! What'sthe row?'

"At once he replies, 'As I told you before, I have not laid up a cent. But if anything should happen to a certain person whom I think of, Ishould be rich; and you--why, you might be rich too, if you were willingto give him a little push with the elbow, so that the thing might happento him a little sooner. '"

Earnestly bent upon the part which he had to play for the sake ofcarrying out his system of defence, the prisoner assumed more and morehypocritical repentance, an effort which gave to his wicked face apeculiarly repulsive expression. 

The magistrate, however, though no doubt thoroughly disgusted with thisabsurd comedy, did not move a muscle of his face, nor make a gesture, anxious, as he was, not to break the thread of this importantdeposition. 

"Ah, sir!" exclaimed Crochard, his hand upon his heart, "when Iheard Chevassat talk that way, my heart turned within me, and I said, 'Unfortunate man, what do you mean? I should commit a murder? Never! I'drather die first!' He laughed, and replied, 'Don't be a fool; who talksto you of murder? I spoke of an accident. Besides, you would not riskanything. The thing would happen to him abroad. ' I continued, however, to refuse, and I spoke even of going away; when Chevassat seized a bigknife, and said, now that I had his secret, I was bound to go on. Ifnot!--he looked at me with such a terrible air, that, upon my word, Iwas frightened, and sat down again. 

"Then, all at once, he became as jolly again as before; and, whilst hekept pouring the brandy into my glass, he explained to me that I wouldbe a fool to hesitate; that I could never in all my life find such achance again of making a fortune; that I would most certainly succeed;and that then I would have an income, keep a carriage as he did, wearfine clothes, and have every day a dinner like the one we had just beenenjoying together. 

"I became more and more excited. This lot of gold which he held upbefore my mind's eyes dazzled me; and the strong drink I had been takingincessantly got into my head. Then he flourished again the big knifebefore my face; and finally I did not know what I was saying or doing. I got up; and, striking the table with my fist, I cried out, 'I am yourman!'"

Although, probably, the whole scene never took place, except in theprisoner's imagination, Daniel could not help trembling under his cover, at the thought of these two wretches arranging for his death, while theywere there, half drunk, glass in hand, and their elbows resting on atable covered with wine-stains. Lefloch, on his part, stood graspingthe bedstead so hard with his hand, that the wood cracked. Perhaps hedreamed he held in his grasp the neck of the man who was talking socoolly of murdering his lieutenant. The lawyer and the doctor thought ofnothing but of watching the contortions of the accused. He had drawn ahandkerchief from his pocket, and rubbed his eyes hard, as if he hopedthus to bring forth a few tears. 

"Come, come!" said the magistrate. "No scene!"

Crochard sighed deeply, and then continued in a tearful tone, --

"They might cut me to pieces, and I would not be able to say whathappened after that. I was dead drunk, and do not recollect a thing anymore. From what Chevassat afterwards told me, I had to be carried tothe carriage; and he took me to a hotel in the suburb, where he hired alodging for me. When I woke the next day, a little before noon, my headwas as heavy as lead; and I tried to recall what had happened at therestaurant, and if it was not perhaps merely the bad wine that had givenme the nightmare. 

"Unfortunately, it was no dream; and I soon found that out, when awaiter came up and brought me a letter. Chevassat wrote me to cometo his house, and to breakfast with him for the purpose of talkingbusiness. 

"Of course I went. I asked the concierge where M. Justin Chevassat livesin the house; and he directs me to go to the second floor, on the righthand. I go up, ring the bell; a servant opens the door; I enter, andfind, in an elegant apartment, my brigand in a dressing-gown, stretchedout on a sofa. On the way I had made up my mind to tell him positivelythat he need not count upon me; that the thing was a horror to me; andthat I retracted all I had said. But, as soon as I began, he becameperfectly furious, calling me a coward and a traitor, and telling methat I had no choice but to make my fortune, or to receive a blow withthe big knife between my shoulders. At the same time he spread outbefore me a great heap of gold. Then, yes, then I was weak. I felt I wascaught. Chevassat frightened me; the gold intoxicated me. I pledged myword; and the bargain was made. "

As he said this, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, sighed deeply and noisily, like a man whose heart has been relieved of a grievous burden. He reallyfelt prodigiously relieved. To have to confess everything on the spot, without a moment's respite to combine a plan of apology, was a hardtask. Now, the wretch had stood this delicate and dangerous trial prettywell, and thought he had managed cleverly enough to prepare for the dayof his trial a number of extenuating circumstances. But the magistratehardly gave him time to breathe. 

"Not so fast, " he said: "we are not done yet. What were the conditionswhich you and Chevassat agreed upon?"

"Oh! very simple, sir. I, for my part, said yes to everything heproposed. He magnetized me, I tell you, that man! We agreed, therefore, that he would pay me four thousand francs in advance, and that, afterthe accident, he would give me six thousand certain, and a portion ofthe sum which he would secure. "

"Thus you undertook, for ten thousand francs, to murder a man?"

"I thought"--

"That sum is very far from those fabulous amounts by which you said youhad been blinded and carried away. "

"Pardon me! There was that share in the great fortune. "

"Ah! You knew very well that Chevassat would never have paid youanything. "

Crochard's hands twitched nervously. He cried out, --

"Chevassat cheat me! _cochonnere_! I would have--but no; he knows me; hewould never have dared"--

The magistrate had caught the prisoner's eye, and, fixing him sternly, he said good-naturedly, --

"Why did you tell me, then, that that man magnetized you, and frightenedyou out of your wits?"

The wretch had gone into the snare, and, instead of answering, hung hishead, and tried to sob. 

"Repentance is all very well, " said the lawyer, who did not seem tobe in the least touched; "but just now it would be better for youto explain how your trip to Cochin China was arranged. Come, collectyourself, and give us the details. "

"As to that, " he resumed his account, "you see Chevassat explained tome everything at breakfast; and the very same day he gave me the addresswhich you found on the paper in which the bank-notes were wrapped up. "

"What did he give you M. Champcey's address for?"

"So that I might know him personally. "

"Well, go on. "

"At first, when I heard he was a lieutenant in the navy, I said I mustgive it up, knowing as I did that with such men there is no trifling. But Chevassat scolded me so terribly, and called me such hard names, that I finally got mad, and promised everything. 

"'Besides, ' he said to me, 'listen to my plan. The navy department wantsmechanics to go to Saigon. They have not gotten their full number yet:so you go and offer yourself. They will accept you, and even pay yourjourney to Rochefort: a boat will carry you out to the roadstead onboard the frigate "Conquest. " Do you know whom you will find on board?Our man, Lieut. Champcey. Well, now, I tell you! that if any accidentshould happen to him, either during the voyage, or at Saigon, that accident will pass unnoticed, as a letter passes through thepost-office. '

"Yes, that's what he told me, every word of it; and I think I hear himnow. And I--I was so completely bewildered, that I had nothing to say inreturn. However, there was one thing which troubled me; and I thought, 'Well, after all, they won't accept me at the navy department, with myantecedents. '

"But, when I mentioned the difficulty to Chevassat, he laughed. Oh, buthe laughed! it made me mad. 

"'You are surely more of a fool than I thought, ' he said. 'Are yourcondemnations written on your face? No, I should say. Well, as you willexhibit your papers in excellent order, they will take you. '

"I opened my eyes wide, and said, 'That's all very pretty, what you say;but the mischief is, that, as I have not worked at my professionfor more than fifteen years, I have no papers at all. ' He shrugs hisshoulders, and says, 'You shall have your papers. ' That worries me; andI reply, 'If I have to steal somebody's papers, and change my name, I won't do it. ' But the brigand had his notions. 'You shall keep yourname, ' he said, touching me on the shoulder. 'You shall always remainCrochard, surnamed Bagnolet; and you shall have your papers as engraveron metal as perfect as anybody can have them. '

"And, to be sure, the second day after that he gave me a set of papers, signatures, seals, all in perfect order. "

"The papers found in your room, you mean?" asked the lawyer. 

"Exactly. "

"Where did Chevassat get them?"

"Get them? Why, he had made them himself. He can do anything he chooseswith his pen, the scamp! If he takes it into his head to imitate yourown handwriting, you would never suspect it. "

Daniel and the old surgeon exchanged glances. This was a strong and veryimportant point in connection with the forged letter that had been sentto the navy department, and claimed to be signed by Daniel himself. Themagistrate was as much struck by the fact as they were; but his featuresremained unchanged; and, pursuing his plan in spite of all the incidentsof the examination, he asked, --

"These papers caused no suspicion?"

"None whatever. I had only to show them, and they accepted me. Besides, Chevassat said he would enlist some people in my behalf; perhaps I hadbeen specially recommended. "

"And thus you sailed?"

"Yes. They gave me my ticket, some money for travelling expenses;and, five days after my meeting with Chevassat, I was on board 'TheConquest. ' Lieut. Champcey was not there. Ah! I began to hope he wouldnot go out on the expedition at all. Unfortunately, he arrived forty-eight hours afterwards, and we sailed at once. "

The marvellous coolness of the wretch showed clearly under his affectedtrouble; and, while it confounded Daniel and the old surgeon, itfilled the faithful Lefloch with growing indignation. He spoke of thisabominable plot, of this assassination which had been so carefullyplotted, and of the price agreed upon, and partly paid in advance, as ifthe whole had been a fair commercial operation. 

"Now, Crochard, " said the lawyer, "I cannot impress it too strongly onyour mind, how important it is for your own interests that you shouldtell the truth. Remember, all your statements will be verified. Do youknow whether Chevassat lives in Paris under an assumed name?"

"No, sir! I have always heard him called Chevassat by everybody. "

"What? By everybody?"

"Well, I mean his concierge, his servants. "

The magistrate seemed for a moment to consider how he should frame hisnext question; and then he asked, all of a sudden, --

"Suppose that the--accident, as you call it, had succeeded, you wouldhave taken ship; you would have arrived in France; you reach Paris; howwould you have found Chevassat to claim your six thousand francs?"

"I should have gone to his house, where I breakfasted with him; and, ifhe had left, the concierge would have told me where he lived now. "

"Then you really think you saw him at his own rooms? Consider. If youleft him only for a couple of hours, between the time when you firstmet him and the visit you paid him afterwards, he might very well haveimprovised a new domicile for himself. "

"Ah! I did not lie, sir. When dinner was over, I had lost myconsciousness, and I did not get wide awake again till noon on the nextday. Chevassat had the whole night and next morning. "

Then, as a suspicion suddenly flashed through Crochard's mind, heexclaimed, --

"Ah, the brigand! Why did he urge me never to write to him otherwisethan 'to be called for'?"

The magistrate had turned to his clerk. 

"Go down, " he said, "and see if any of the merchants in town have aParis Directory. "

The clerk went off like an arrow, and appeared promptly back again withthe volume in question. The magistrate hastened to look up the addressgiven by the prisoner, and found it entered thus: "_Langlois_, sumptuousapartments for families and single persons. Superior attendance. "

"I was almost sure of it, " he said to himself. 

Then handing Daniel the paper on which the words "University" and"Street" could be deciphered, he asked, --

"Do you know that handwriting, M. Champcey?"

Too full of the lawyer's shrewd surmises to express any surprise, Daniellooked at the words, and said coolly, --

"That is Maxime de Brevan's handwriting. "

A rush of blood colored instantly the pale face of Crochard. He wasfurious at the idea of having been duped by his accomplice, by theinstigator of the crime he had committed, and for which he wouldprobably never have received the promised reward. 

"Ah, the brigand!" he exclaimed. "And I, who was very near notdenouncing him at all!"

A slight smile passed over the lawyer's face. His end had been attained. He had foreseen this wrath on the part of the prisoner; he had preparedit carefully, and caused it to break out fully; for he knew it wouldbring him full light on the whole subject. 

"To cheat me, me!" Crochard went on with extraordinary vehemence, --"tocheat a friend, an old comrade! Ah the rascal! But he sha'n't go toparadise, if I can help it! Let them cut my throat, I don't mind it; Ishall be quite content even, provided I see his throat cut first. "

"He has not even been arrested yet. "

"But nothing is easier than to catch him, sir. He must be uneasy at nothearing from me; and I am sure he is going every day to the post-officeto inquire if there are no letters yet for M. X. O. X. 88. I can writeto him. Do you want me to write to him? I can tell him that I have oncemore missed it, and that I have been caught even, but that the policehave found out nothing, and that they have set me free again. I am sure, after that, the scamp will keep quiet; and the police will have nothingto do but to take the omnibus, and arrest him at his lodgings. "

The magistrate had allowed the prisoner to give free vent to his fury, knowing full well by experience how intensely criminals hate those oftheir accomplices by whom they find themselves betrayed. And he was inhopes that the rage of this man might suggest a new idea, or furnish himwith new facts. When he saw he was not likely to gain much, he said, --

"Justice cannot stoop to such expedients. " Then he added, seeing howdisappointed Crochard looked, --

"You had better try and recollect all you can. Have you forgottenor concealed nothing that might assist us in carrying out thisexamination?"

"No; I think I have told you every thing. "

"You cannot furnish any additional evidence of the complicity of JustinChevassat, of his efforts to tempt you to commit this crime, or of theforgery he committed in getting up a false set of papers for you?"

"No! Ah, he is a clever one, and leaves no trace behind him that couldconvict him. But, strong as he is, if we could be confronted in court, I'd undertake, just by looking at him, to get the truth out of himsomehow. "

"You shall be confronted, I promise you. "

The prisoner seemed to be amazed. 

"Are you going to send for Chevassat?" he asked. 

"No. You will be sent home, to be tried there. "

A flash of joy shone in the eyes of the wretch. He knew the voyage wouldnot be a pleasant one; but the prospect of being tried in France wasas good as an escape from capital punishment to his mind. Besides, hedelighted in advance in the idea of seeing Chevassat in court, seated byhis side as a fellow-prisoner. 

"Then, " he asked again, "they will send me home?"

"On the first national vessel that leaves Saigon. "

The magistrate went and sat down at the table where the clerk waswriting, and rapidly ran his eye over the long examination, seeing ifanything had been overlooked. When he had done, he said, --

"Now give me as accurate a description of Justin Chevassat as you can. "

Crochard passed his hand repeatedly over his forehead; and then, hiseyes staring at empty space, and his neck stretched out, as if he saw aphantom which he had suddenly called up, he said, --

"Chevassat is a man of my age; but he does not look more than twentyseven or eight. That is what made me hesitate at first, when I met himon the boulevard. He is a handsome fellow, very well made, and wearsall his beard. He looks clever, with soft eyes; and his face inspiresconfidence at once. "

"Ah! that is Maxime all over, " broke in Daniel. 

And, suddenly remembering something, he called Lefloch. The sailorstarted, and almost mechanically assumed the respectful position of asailor standing before his officer. 

"Lieutenant?" he said. 

"Since I have been sick, they have brought part of my baggage here; havethey not?"

"Yes, lieutenant, all of it. "

"Well. Go and look for a big red book with silver clasps. You have nodoubt seen me look at it often. "

"Yes, lieutenant; and I know where it is. "

And he immediately opened one of the trunks that were piled up in acorner of the room, and took from it a photograph album, which, upon asign from Daniel, he handed to the lawyer. 

"Will you please, " said Daniel at the same time, "ask the prisoner, if, among the sixty or seventy portraits in that book, he knows any one?"

The album was handed to Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, who turned overleaf after leaf, till all of a sudden, and almost beside himself, hecried out, --

"Here he is, Justin Chevassat! Oh! that's he, no doubt about it. "

Daniel could, from his bed, see the photograph, and said, --

"That is Maxime's portrait. "

After this decisive evidence, there could be no longer any doubt thatJustin Chevassat and Maxime de Brevan were one and the same person. Theinvestigation was complete, as far as it could be carried on in Saigon;the remaining evidence had to be collected in Paris. The magistratedirected, therefore, the clerk to read the deposition; and Crochardfollowed it without making a single objection. But when he had signedit, and the gendarmes were about to carry him off again, and to puton the handcuffs, he asked leave to make an addition. The magistrateassented; and Crochard said, --

"I do not want to excuse myself, nor to make myself out innocent; but Ido not like, on the other hand, to seem worse than I am. "

He had assumed a very decided position, and evidently aimed at giving tohis words an expression of coarse but perfect frankness. 

"The thing which I had undertaken to do, it was not in my power to do. It has never entered my head to kill a man treacherously. If I had beena brute, such as these are, the lieutenant would not be there, woundedto be sure, but alive. Ten times I might have done his business mosteffectively; but I did not care. I tried in vain to think of Chevassat'sbig promises; at the last moment, my heart always failed me. The thingwas too much for me. And the proof of it is, that I missed him at tenyards' distance. The only time when I tried it really in earnest wasin the little boat, because there, I ran some risk; it was like a duel, since my life was as much at stake as the lieutenant's. I can swim aswell as anybody, to be sure; but in a river like the Dong-Nai, atnight, and with a current like that, no swimmer can hold his own. Thelieutenant got out of it; but I was very near being drowned. I could notget on land again until I had been carried down two miles or more; and, when I did get on shore, I sank in the mud up to my hips. Now, I humblybeg the lieutenant's pardon; and you shall see if I am going to letChevassat escape. "

Thereupon he held out his hands for the handcuffs, with a theatricalgesture, and left the room. 

XXVII. 

In the meantime, the long, trying scene had exhausted Daniel; and he laythere, panting, on his bed. The surgeon and the lawyer withdrew, to lethim have some rest. 

He certainly needed it; but how could he sleep with the fearful ideaof his Henrietta--she whom he loved with his whole heart--being in thehands of this Justin Chevassat, a forger, a former galley-slave, theaccomplice and friend of Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet?

"And I myself handed her over to him!" he repeated for the thousandthtime, --"I, her only friend upon earth! And her confidence in me wasso great, that, if she had any presentiment, she suppressed it for mysake. "

Daniel had, to be sure, a certain assurance now, that Maxime de Brevanwould not be able to escape from justice. But what did it profit him tobe avenged, when it was too late, long after Henrietta should have beenforced to seek in suicide the only refuge from Brevan's persecution? Nowit seemed to him as if the magistrate was far more anxiously concernedfor the punishment of the guilty than for the safety of the victims. Blinded by passion, so as to ask for impossibilities, Daniel would havehad this lawyer, who was so clever in unearthing crimes committed inSaigon, find means rather to prevent the atrocious crime which was nowgoing on in France. On his part, he had done the only thing that couldbe done. 

At the first glimpse of reason that had appeared after his terriblesufferings, he had hastened to write to Henrietta, begging her to takecourage, and promising her that he would soon be near her. In thisletter he had enclosed the sum of four thousand francs. 

This letter was gone. But how long would it take before it could reachher? Three or four months, perhaps even more. 

Would it reach her in time? Might it not be intercepted, like theothers? All these anxieties made a bed of burning coals of the couchof the poor wounded man. He twisted and turned restlessly from side toside, and felt as if he were once more going to lose his senses. Andstill, by a prodigious effort of his will, his convalescence pursued itsnormal, steady way in spite of so many contrary influences. 

A fortnight after Crochard's confession, Daniel could get up; he spentthe afternoon in an arm-chair, and was even able to take a few steps inhis chamber. The next week he was able to get down into the gardenof the hospital, and to walk about there, leaning on the arm of hisfaithful Lefloch. And with his strength and his health, hope, also, began to come back; when, all of a sudden, two letters from Henriettarekindled the fever. 

In one the poor _girl_ told him how she had lived so far on the moneyobtained from the sale of the little jewelry she had taken with her, butadded that she was shamefully cheated, and would soon be compelled toseek employment of some sort in order to support herself. 

"I am quite sure, " she said, with a kind of heartrending cheerfulness, "that I can earn my forty cents a day; and with that, my friend, I shallbe as happy as a queen, and wait for your return, free from want. "

In the other she wrote, --

"None of my efforts to procure work has so far succeeded. The futureis getting darker and darker. Soon I shall be without bread. I shallstruggle on to the last extremity, were it only not to give my enemiesthe joy of seeing me dead. But, Daniel, if you wish to see yourHenrietta again, come back; oh, come back!"

Daniel had not suffered half as much the day when the assassin's ballploughed through his chest. He was evidently reading one of those lastcries which precede agony. After these two fearful letters, he couldonly expect a last one from Henrietta, --a letter in which she would tellhim, "All is over. I am dying. Farewell!"

He sent for the chief surgeon, and said, as soon as he entered, --

"I must go!"

The good doctor frowned, and replied rudely, --

"Are you mad? Do you know that you cannot stand up fifteen minutes?"

"I can lie down in my berth. "

"You would kill yourself. "

"What of that? I would rather suffer death than what I now endure. Besides, I have made up my mind irrevocably! Read this, and you will seeyourself that I cannot do otherwise. "

The chief surgeon took in Henrietta's last letter almost at a singleglance; but he held it in his hand for some time, pretending to read it, but in reality meditating. 

"I am sure, " the excellent man thought in his heart, "I am sure, in thisman's place, I should do the same. But would this imprudence be of anyuse to him? No; for he could not reach the mouth of the Dong-Nai alive. Therefore it is my duty to keep him here: and that can be done, since heis as yet unable to go out alone; and Lefloch will obey me, I am sure, when I tell him that his master's life depends upon his obedience. "

Too wise to meet so decided a determination as Daniel's was by a flatrefusal, he said, --

"Very well, then; be it as you choose!"

Only he came in again the same evening, and, with an air ofdisappointment, said to Daniel, --

"To go is all very well; but there is one difficulty in the way, ofwhich neither you nor I have thought. "

"And what is that?"

"There is no vessel going home. "

"Really, doctor?"

"Ah! my dear friend, " replied the excellent man boldly, "do you think Icould deceive you?"

Evidently Daniel thought him quite capable of doing so; but he tookgood care not to show his suspicions, reserving to himself the right ofmaking direct inquiries as soon as the opportunity should offer. It camethe very next morning. Two friends of his called to see him. He sentLefloch out of the room on some pretext, and then begged them to go downto the port, and to engage a passage for him, --no, not for him, but forhis man, whom urgent business recalled to France. 

In the most eager manner the two gentlemen disappeared. They stayed awaythree hours; and, when they came back, their answer was the same as thedoctor's. They declared they had made inquiries on all sides; but theywere quite sure that there was not a single vessel in Saigon ready tosail for home. Ten other persons whom Daniel asked to do the samething brought him the same answer. And yet, that very week, two shipssailed, --one for Havre, the other for Bordeaux. But the concierge ofthe hospital, and Lefloch, were so well drilled, that no visitor reachedDaniel before having learned his lesson thoroughly. 

Thus they succeeded in keeping Daniel quiet for a fortnight; but, at theend of that time, he declared that he felt quite well enough to look outfor a ship himself; and that, if he could do no better, he meant tosail for Singapore, where he would be sure to procure a passage home. Itwould, of course, have been simple folly to try and keep a man back whowas so much bent upon his purpose; and, as his first visit to the portwould have revealed to him the true state of things, the old surgeonpreferred to make a clean breast of it. When he learned that he hadmissed two ships, Daniel was at first naturally very much incensed. 

"That was not right, doctor, to treat me thus, " he exclaimed. "It waswrong; for you know what sacred duties call me home. "

But the surgeon was prepared for his justification. He replied with acertain solemnity which he rarely assumed, --

"I have only obeyed my conscience. If I had let you set sail in thecondition in which you were, I should have virtually sent you to yourgrave, and thus have deprived your betrothed, Miss Ville-Handry, of herlast and only chance of salvation. "

Daniel shook his head sadly, and said, --

"But if I get there too late, too late; by a week, a day, do you think, doctor, I shall not curse your prudence? And who knows, now, when a shipwill leave?"

"When? On Sunday, in five days; and that ship is 'The Saint Louis' afamous clipper, and so good a sailor, that you will easily overtake thetwo big three-masters that have sailed before you. "

Offering his hand to Daniel, he added, --

"Come, my dear Champcey; don't blame an old friend who has done what hethought was his duty to do. "

Daniel was too painfully affected to pay much attention to theconclusive and sensible reasons alleged by the chief surgeon; he sawnothing but that his friends had taken advantage of his condition tokeep him in the dark. Still he also felt that it would have been blackingratitude and stupid obstinacy to preserve in his heart a shadowof resentment. He therefore, took the hand that was offered him, and, pressing it warmly, replied in a tone of deep emotion, --

"Whatever the future may have in store for me, doctor, I shall neverforget that I owe my life to your devotion. "

As usually, when he felt that excitement was overcoming him, --a veryrare event, to tell the truth, --the old surgeon fell back into his roughand abrupt manner. 

"I have attended you as I would have attended any one: that is my duty, and you need not trouble yourself about your gratitude. If any one owesme thanks, it is Miss Ville-Handry; and I beg you will remind her of itwhen she is your wife. And now you will be good enough to dismiss allthose dismal ideas, and remember that you have only five days longer totremble with impatience in this abominable country. "

He spoke easily enough of it, --five days! It was an eternity for aman in Daniel's state of mind. In three hours he had made all hispreparations for his departure, arranged his business matters, andobtained a furlough for Lefloch, who was to go with him. At noon, therefore, he asked himself with terror, how he was to employ his timetill night, when they came, and asked if he would please come over tothe courthouse, to see the magistrate. 

He went at once, and found the lawyer, but so changed, that he hardlyrecognized him at first. The last mail had brought him the news of hisappointment to a judgeship, which he had long anxiously desired, andwhich would enable him to return, not only to France, but to his nativeprovince. He meant to sail in a frigate which was to leave towards theend of the month, and in which Crochard, also, was to be sent home. 

"In this way, " he said, "I shall arrive at the same time as the accused, and very soon after the papers, which were sent home last week; and Itrust and hope I shall be allowed to conduct the trial of an affair, which, so far, has gone smoothly enough in my hands. "

His impassive air was gone; and that official mask was laid aside, whichmight have been looked upon as much a part of his official costume asthe black gown which was lying upon one of his trunks. He laughed, herubbed his hands, and said, --

"I should take pleasure in having him in my court, this JustinChevassat, alias Maxime de Brevan. He must be a cool swindler, brimfulof cunning and astuteness, familiar with all the tricks of criminalcourts, and not so easily overcome. It will be no child's play, I amsure, to prove that he was the instigator of Crochard's crimes, andthat he has hired him with his own money. Ah! There will be livelydiscussions and curious incidents. "

Daniel listened, quite bewildered. 

"He, too, " he thought. "Professional enthusiasm carries him away; andhere he is, troubling himself about the discussions in court, neitherless nor more than Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet. He thinks only of thehonor he will reap for having handed over to the jury such a formidablerascal as"--

But the lawyer had not sent for Daniel to speak to him of his plans andhis hopes. Having learned from the chief surgeon that Lieut. Champceywas on the point of sailing, he wished to tell him that he would receivea very important packet, which he was desired to hand to the court assoon as he reached Paris. 

"This is, you understand, " he concluded, "an additional precaution whichwe take to prevent Maxime de Brevan from escaping us. "

It was five o'clock when Daniel left the court-house; and on the littlesquare before it he found the old surgeon, waiting to carry him off todinner, and a game of whist in the evening. So, when he undressed atnight, he said to himself, --

"After all, the day has not been so very long!"

But to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow, and the next days!

He tried in vain to get rid of the fixed idea which filled his mind, --amechanical instinct, so to say, which was stronger than his will, anddrove him incessantly to the wharf where "The Saint Louis" was lying. Sitting on some bags of rice, he spent hour after hour in watching thecargo as it was put on board. Never had the Annamites and theChinamen, who in Saigon act as stevedores, appeared to him so lazy, sointolerable. Sometimes he felt as if, seeing or guessing his impatience, they were trying to irritate him by moving the bales with the utmostslowness, and walking with unbearable laziness around with the windlass. 

Then, when he could no longer bear the sight, he went to the cafe on thewharf, where the captain of "The Saint Louis" was generally to be found. 

"Your men will never finish, captain, " he said. "You will never be readyby Sunday. "

To which the captain invariably replied in his fierce Marseillesaccent, --

"Don't be afraid, lieutenant. 'The Saint Louis, ' I tell you, beats theIndian mail in punctuality. "

And really, on Saturday, when he saw his passenger come as usual to thecafe, the captain exclaimed, --

"Well, what did I tell you? We are all ready. At five o'clock I get mymail at the post-office; and to-morrow morning we are off. I was justgoing to send you word that you had better sleep on board. "

That evening the officers of "The Conquest, " gave Daniel a farewelldinner; and it was nearly midnight, when, after having once more shakenhands most cordially with the old chief surgeon, he took possession ofhis state-room, one of the largest on board ship, in which they had putup two berths, so that, in case of need, Lefloch might be at hand toattend his master. 

Then at last, towards four o'clock in the morning, Daniel was arousedby the clanking of chains, accompanied by the singing of the sailors. Hehastened on deck. They were getting up anchors; and, an hour after that, "The Saint Louis" went down the Dong-Nai, aided by a current, rushingalong "like lightning. "

"And now, " said Daniel to Lefloch, "I shall judge, by the time it willtake us to get home, if fortune is on my side. "

Yes, fate, at last, declared for him. Never had the most extraordinarilyfavorable winds hastened a ship home as in this case. "The Saint Louis"was a first-class sailer; and the captain, stimulated by the presence ofa navy lieutenant, always exacted the utmost from his ship; so thaton the seventeenth day after they had left Saigon, on a fine winterafternoon, Daniel could see the hills above Marseilles rise from theblue waters of the Mediterranean. He was drawing near the end of thevoyage and of his renewed anxieties. Two days more, and he would be inParis, and his fate would be irrevocably fixed. 

But would they let him go on shore that evening? He trembled as hethought of all the formalities which have to be observed when a shiparrives. The quarantine authorities might raise difficulties, and causea delay. 

Standing by the side of the captain, he was watching the masts, whichlooked as if they were loaded down with all the sails they could carry, when a cry from the lookout in the bow of the vessel attracted hisattention. That man reported, at two ship's lengths on starboard, asmall boat, like a pilot-boat, making signs of distress. The captainand Daniel exchanged looks of disappointment. The slightest delay inthe position in which they were, and at a season when night falls sosuddenly, deprived them of all hope of going on shore that night. Andwho could tell how long it would take them to go to the rescue of thatboat?

"Well, never mind!" said Daniel. "We have to do it. "

"I wish they were in paradise!" swore the captain. 

Nevertheless, he ordered all that was necessary to slacken speed, andthen to tack so as to come close upon the little boat. 

It was a difficult and tedious manoeuvre; but at last, after half anhour's work, they could throw a rope into the boat. 

There were two men in it, who hastened to come on the deck of theclipper. One was a sailor of about twenty, the other a man of perhapsfifty, who looked like a country gentleman, appeared ill at ease, andcast about him restless glances in all directions. But, whilst they werehoisting themselves up by the man-rope; the captain of "The Saint Louis"had had time to examine their boat, and to ascertain that it was in goodcondition, and every thing in it in perfect order. 

Crimson with wrath, he now seized the young sailor by his collar; and, shaking him so roughly as nearly to disjoint his neck, he said with aformidable oath, --

"Are you making fun of me? What wretched joke have you been playing?"

Like their captain, the men on board, also, had discovered the perfectuselessness of the signals of distress which had excited their sympathy;and their indignation was great at what they considered a stupidmystification. They surrounded the sailor with a threatening air, while he struggled in the captain's hand, and cried in his Marseillesjargon, --

"Let go! You are smothering me! It is not my fault. It was the gentlemanthere, who hired my boat for a sail. I, I would not make the signal;but"--

Nevertheless, the poor fellow would probably have experienced some veryrough treatment, if the "gentleman" had not come running up, and coveredhim with his own body, exclaiming, --

"Let that poor boy go! I am the only one to blame!"

The captain, in a great rage, pushed him back, and, looking at himsavagely, said, --

"Ah! so it is you who have dared"--

"Yes, I did it. But I had my reasons. This is surely 'The Saint Louis, 'eh, coming from Saigon?"

"Yes. What next?"

"You have on board Lieut. Champcey of the navy?"

Daniel, who had been a silent witness of the scene, now stepped forward, very much puzzled. 

"I am Lieut. Champcey, sir, " he said. "What do you desire?"

But, instead of replying, the "gentleman" raised his hands to heaven ina perfect ecstasy of joy, and said in an undertone, --

"We triumph at last!"

Then, turning to Daniel and the captain, he said, --

"But come, gentlemen, come! I must explain my conduct; and we must bealone for what I have to tell you. "

Pale, and with every sign of seasickness in his face, when he had firstappeared on deck, the man now seemed to have recovered, and, in spite ofthe rolling of the vessel, followed the captain and Daniel with a firmstep to the quarter-deck. As soon as they were alone, he said, --

"Could I be here, if I had not used a stratagem? Evidently not. And yetI had the most powerful interest in boarding 'The Saint Louis' beforeshe should enter port; therefore I did not hesitate. "

He drew from his pocket a sheet of paper, simply folded twice, andsaid, --

"Here is my apology, Lieut. Champcey; see if it is sufficient. "

Utterly amazed, the young officer read, --

"I am saved, Daniel; and I owe my life to the man who will hand youthis. I shall owe to him the pleasure of seeing you again. Confide inhim as you would in your best and most devoted friend; and, I beseechyou, do not hesitate to follow his advice literally. 

"Henrietta. "

Daniel turned deadly pale, and tottered. This unexpected, intensehappiness overcame him. 

"Then--it is true--she is alive?" he stammered. 

"She is at my sister's house, safe from all danger. "

"And you, sir, you have rescued her?"

"I did!"

Prompt like thought, Daniel seized the man's hands, and, pressing themvehemently, exclaimed with a penetrating voice, --

"Never, sir, never, whatever may happen, can I thank you enough. Butremember, I pray you, under all circumstances, and for all times, youcan count upon Lieut. Champcey. "

A strange smile played on the man's lips; and, shaking his head, hesaid, "I shall before long remind you of your promise, lieutenant. "

Standing between the two men, the captain of "The Saint Louis" waslooking alternately at the one and the other with an astonished air, listening without comprehending, and imagining marvellous things. Theonly point he understood was this, that his presence was, to say theleast, not useful. 

"If that is so, " he said to Daniel, "we cannot blame this gentleman forthe ugly trick he has played us. "

"Blame him? Oh, certainly not!"

"Then I'll leave you. I believe I have treated the sailor who broughthim on board a little roughly; but I am going to order him a glass ofbrandy, which will set him right again. "

Thereupon the captain discreetly withdrew; while Papa Ravinetcontinued, --

"You will tell me, M. Champcey, that it would have been simpler to waitfor you in port, and hand you my letter of introduction there. Thatwould have been grievous imprudence. If I heard at the navy departmentof your arrival, others may have learned it as well. As soon, therefore, as 'The Saint Louis' was telegraphed in town, you may be sure a spy wassent to the wharf, who is going to follow you, never losing sight ofyou, and who will report all your goings and your doings. "

"What does it matter?"

"Ah! do not say so, sir! If our enemies hear of our meeting, you see, if they only find out that we have conversed together, all is lost. Theywould see the danger that threatens them, and they would escape. "

Daniel could hardly trust his ears. 

"Our enemies?" he asked, emphasizing the word "our. "

"Yes: I mean _our_ enemies, --Sarah Brandon, Countess Ville-Handry, Maxime de Brevan, Thomas Elgin, and Mrs. Brian. "

"You hate them?"

"If I hate them! I tell you for five years I have lived only on the hopeof being able to avenge myself on them. Yes, it is five years now, that, lost in the crowd, I have followed them with the perseverance of anIndian, --five years that I have patiently, incessantly, inch by inch, undermined the ground beneath their steps. And they suspect nothing. Idoubt whether they are aware of my existence. No, not even--What wouldit be to them, besides? They have pushed me so far down into the mud, that they cannot imagine my ever rising again up to their level. Theytriumph with impunity; they boast of their unpunished wickedness, andthink they are strong, and safe from all attacks, because they have theprestige and the power of gold. And yet their hour is coming. I, thewretched man, who have been compelled to hide, and to live on my dailylabor, --I have attained my end. Every thing is ready; and I have only totouch the proud fabric of their crimes to make it come down upon them, and crush them all under the ruins. Ah! if I could see them only sufferone-fourth of what they have made me suffer, I should die content. "

Papa Ravinet seemed to have grown a foot; his hatred convulsed hisplacid face; his voice trembled with rage; and his yellow eyes shonewith ill-subdued passion. 

Daniel wondered, and asked himself what the people who had sworn to ruinhim and Henrietta could have done to this man, who looked so inoffensivewith his bright-flowered waistcoat and his coat with the high collar. 

"But who are you, sir?" he asked. 

"Who am I?" exclaimed the man, --"who am I?"

But he paused; and, after waiting a little while, he sunk his head, andsaid, --

"I am Anthony Ravinet, dealer in curiosities. "

The clipper was in the meantime making way rapidly. Already the whitecountry houses appeared on the high bluffs amid the pine-groves; and theoutlines of the Castle of If were clearly penned on the deep blue of thesky. 

"But we are getting near, " exclaimed Papa Ravinet; "and I must get backinto my boat. I did not come out so far, that they might see me enter onboard 'The Saint Louis. '"

And when Daniel offered him his state-room, where he might remain inconcealment, he replied, --

"No, no! We shall have time enough to come to an understanding aboutwhat is to be done in Paris; and I must go back by rail to-night; I camedown for the sole purpose of telling you this. Miss Henrietta is at mysister's house; but you must take care not to come there. NeitherSarah nor Brevan know what has become of her; they think she has thrownherself into the river; and this conviction is our safety and ourstrength. As they will most assuredly have you watched, the slightestimprudence might betray us. "

"But I must see Henrietta, sir. "

"Certainly; and I have found the means for it. Instead of going to yourformer lodgings, go to the Hotel du Louvre. I will see to it that mysister and Miss Ville-Handry shall have taken rooms there before youreach Paris; and you may be sure, that, in less than a quarter of anhour after your arrival, you will hear news. But, heavens, how near weare! I must make haste. "

Upon Daniel's request, the ship lay by long enough to allow Papa Ravinetand his sailor to get back again into their boat without danger. Whenthey were safely stowed away in it, and at the moment when they cast offthe man-rope, Papa Ravinet called to Daniel, --

"We shall soon see you! Rely upon me! Tonight Miss Henrietta shall havea telegram from us. "

XXVIII. 

At the same hour when Papa Ravinet, on the deck of "The Saint Louis, "was pressing Daniel's hand, and bidding him farewell, there werein Paris two poor women, who prayed and watched with breathlessanxiety, --the sister of the old dealer, Mrs. Bertolle, the widow; andHenrietta, the daughter of Count Ville-Handry. When Papa Ravinet hadappeared the evening before, with his carpet-bag in his hand, his hurryhad been so extraordinary, and his excitement so great, that one mighthave doubted his sanity. He had peremptorily asked his sister for twothousand francs; had made Henrietta write in all haste a letter ofintroduction to Daniel; and had rushed out again like a tempest, as hehad come in, without saying more than this, --

"M. Champcey will arrive, or perhaps has already arrived, in Marseilles, on board a merchant vessel, 'The Saint Louis. ' I have been told so atthe navy department. It is all important that I should see him beforeanybody else. I take the express train of quarter past seven. To-morrow, I'll send you a telegram. "

The two ladies asked for something more, a hope, a word; but no, nothingmore! The old dealer had jumped into the carriage that had brought him, before they had recovered from their surprise; and they remained there, sitting before the fire, silent, their heads in their hands, each lostin conjectures. When the clock struck seven, the good widow was arousedfrom her grave thoughts, which seemed so different from her usualcheerful temper. 

"Come, come, Miss Henrietta, " she said with somewhat forced gayety, "mybrother's departure does not condemn us, as far as I know, to starveourselves to death. "

She had gotten up as she said this. She set the table, and then sat downopposite to Henrietta, to their modest dinner. Modest it was, indeed, and still too abundant. They were both too much overcome to be able toeat; and yet both handled knife and fork, trying to deceive one another. Their thoughts were far away, in spite of all their efforts to keep themat home, and followed the traveller. 

"Now he has left, " whispered Henrietta as it struck eight. 

"He is on his way already, " replied the old lady. 

But neither of them knew anything of the journey from Paris toMarseilles. They were ignorant of the distances, the names of thestations, and even of the large cities through which the railroadpasses. 

"We must try and get a railway guide, " said the good widow. And, quiteproud of her happy thought, she went out instantly, hurried to thenearest bookstore, and soon reappeared, flourishing triumphantly ayellow pamphlet, and saying, --

"Now we shall see it all, my dear child. "

Then, placing the guide on the tablecloth between them, they looked forthe page containing the railway from Paris to Lyons and Marseilles, thenthe train which Papa Ravinet was to have taken; and they delighted incounting up how swiftly the "express" went, and all the stations whereit stopped. 

Then, when the table was cleared, instead of going industriously towork, as usually, they kept constantly looking at the clock, and, afterconsulting the book, said to each other, --

"He is at Montereau now; he must be beyond Sens; he will soon be atTonnerre. "

A childish satisfaction, no doubt, and very idle. But who of us hasnot, at least once in his life, derived a wonderful pleasure, or perhapsunspeakable relief from impatience, or even grief, from following thusacross space a beloved one who was going away, or coming home? Towardsmidnight, however, the old lady remarked that it was getting late, andthat it would be wise to go to bed. 

"You think you will sleep, madam?" asked Henrietta, surprised. 

"No, my child; but"--

"Oh! I, for my part, --_I_ could not sleep. This work on which we arebusy is very pressing, you say; why could we not finish it?"

"Well, let us sit up then, " said the good widow. 

The poor women, reduced as they were to conjectures by Papa Ravinet'slaconic answers, nevertheless knew full well that some great event wasin preparation, something unexpected, and yet decisive. What it was, they did not know; but they understood, or rather felt, that Daniel'sreturn would and must totally change the aspect of affairs. But wouldDaniel really come?

"If he does come, " said Henrietta, "why did they only the other day tellme, at the navy department, that he was not coming? Then, again, whyshould he come home in a merchant vessel, and not on board his frigate?"

"Your letters have probably reached him at last, " explained the oldlady; "and, as soon as he received them, he came home. "

Gradually, however, after having exhausted all conjectures, and afterhaving discussed all contingencies, Henrietta became silent. When itstruck half-past three, she said once more, --

"Ah! M. Ravinet is at the Lyons station now. "

Then her hand became less and less active in drawing the worsted, herhead oscillated from side to side, and her eyelids closed unconsciously. Her old friend advised her to retire; and this time she did not refuse. 

It was past ten o'clock when she awoke; and upon entering, fullydressed, into the sitting-room, Mrs. Bertolle greeted her with theexclamation:--

"At this moment my brother reaches Marseilles!"

"Ah! then it will not be long before we shall have news, " repliedHenrietta. 

But there are moments in which we think electricity the slowest ofmessengers. At two o'clock nothing had come; and the poor women began toaccuse the old dealer of having forgotten them, when, at last, the bellwas rung. 

It was really the telegraph messenger, with his black leather pouch. Theold lady signed her receipt with marvellous promptness; and, tearing theenvelope hastily open, she read, --

Marseilles, 12. 40 a. M. 

"Saint Louis" signalled by telegraph this morning. Will be in to-night. I hire boat to go and meet her, provided Champcey is on board. Thisevening telegram. 

Ravinet. 

"But this does not tell us any thing, " said Henrietta, terriblydisappointed. "Just see, madam, _your_ brother is not even sure whetherM. Champcey is on board 'The Saint Louis. '"

Perhaps Mrs. Bertolle, also, was a little disappointed; but she was notthe person to let it be seen. 

"But what did you expect, dear child? Anthony has not been an hour inMarseilles; how do you think he can know? We must wait till the evening. It is only a matter of a few hours. "

She said this very quietly; but all who have ever undergone the anguishof expectation will know how it becomes more and more intolerable as themoment approaches that is to bring the decision. However the old ladyendeavored to control her excitement, the calm and dignified woman couldnot long conceal the nervous fever that was raging within her. Ten timesduring the afternoon she opened the window, to look for--what? She couldnot have told it herself, as she well knew nothing could come as yet. Atnight she could not stay in any one place. She tried in vain to work onher embroidery; her fingers refused their service. 

At last, at ten minutes past nine, the telegraph man appeared, asimpassive as ever. 

This time it was Henrietta who had taken the despatch; and, beforeopening it, she had half a minute's fearful suspense, as if the paperhad contained the secret of her fate. Then, by a sudden impulse, tearingthe envelope, she read, almost at a glance, --

Marseilles, 6. 45 p. M. 

I have seen Champcey. All well; devoted to Henrietta. Return thisevening. Will be in Paris tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Prepareyour trunks as if you were to start on a month's journey immediatelyafter my return. All is going well. 

Pale as death, and trembling like a leaf, but with open lips and brighteyes, Henrietta had sunk into a chair. Up to this moment she had doubtedevery thing. Up to this hour, until she held the proof in her hand, shehad not allowed herself to hope. Such great happiness does not seem tothe unhappy to be intended for them. But now she stammered out, --

"Daniel is in France! Daniel! Nothing more to fear; the future is ours. I am safe now. "

But people do not die of joy; and, when she had recovered herequanimity, Henrietta understood how cruel she had been in theincoherent phrases that had escaped her in her excitement. She rose witha start, and, seizing Mrs. Bertolle's hands, said to her, --

"Great God! what am I saying! Ah, you will pardon me, madam, I am sure;but I feel as if I did not know what I am doing. Safe! I owe it to youand your brother, if I am safe. Without you Daniel would find nothingof me but a cross at the cemetery, and a name stained and destroyed byinfamous calumnies. "

The old lady did not hear a word. She had picked up the despatch, hadread it; and, overcome by its contents, had sat down near the fireplace, utterly insensible to the outside world. The most fearful hatredconvulsed her ordinarily calm and gentle features; and pale, with closedteeth, and in a hoarse voice, she said over and over again, --

"We shall be avenged. "

Most assuredly Henrietta did not find out only now that the old dealerand his sister hated her enemies, Sarah Brandon and Maxime de Brevan, mortally; but she had never seen that hatred break out so terribly asto-night. What had brought it about? This she could not fathom. PapaRavinet, it was evident, was not a nobody. Ill-bred and coarse inWater Street, amid the thousand articles of his trade, he became a verydifferent man as soon as he reached his sister's house. As to the WidowBertolle, she was evidently a woman of superior intellect and education. 

How had they both been reduced to this more than modest condition? Byreverses of fortune. That accounts for everything, but explains nothing. 

Such were Henrietta's thoughts, when the old lady roused her from hermeditations. 

"You saw, my dear child, " she began saying, "that my brother desires usto be ready to set out on a long journey as soon as he comes home. "

"Yes, madam; and I am quite astonished. "

"I understand; but, although I know no more than you do of my brother'sintentions, I know that he does nothing without a purpose. We ought, therefore, in prudence, comply with his wishes. "

They agreed, therefore, at once on their arrangements; and the nextday Mrs. Bertolle went out to purchase whatever might benecessary, --ready-made dresses for Henrietta, shoes, and linen. Towardsfive o'clock in the afternoon, all the preparations of the old lady andthe young girl had been made; and all their things were carefully stowedaway in three large trunks. According to Papa Ravinet's despatch, theyhad only about two hours more to wait, three hours at the worst. Stillthey were out of their reckoning. It was half-past eight before the goodman arrived, evidently broken down by the long and rapid journey whichhe had just made. 

"At last!" exclaimed Mrs. Bertolle. "We hardly expected you any longerto-night. "

But he interrupted her, saying, --

"Oh, my dear sister! don't you think I suffered when I thought of yourimpatience? But it was absolutely necessary I should show myself inWater Street. "

"You have seen Mrs. Chevassat?"

"I come from her just now. She is quite at her ease. I am sure she hasnot the slightest doubt that Miss Ville-Handry has killed herself; andshe goes religiously every morning to the Morgue. "

Henrietta shuddered. 

"And M. De Brevan?" she asked. 

Papa Ravinet looked troubled. 

"Ah, I don't feel so safe there, " he replied. "The man I had left incharge of him has foolishly lost sight of him. "

Then noticing the trunks, he said, --

"But I am talking, and time flies. You are ready, I see. Let us go. Ihave a carriage at the door. We can talk on the way. "

When he noticed some reluctance in Henrietta's face, he added with akindly smile, --

"You need not fear anything, Miss Henrietta; we are not going away fromM. Champcey, very far from it. Here, you see, he could not have cometwice without betraying the secret of your existence. "

"But where are we going?" asked Mrs. Bertolle. 

"To the Hotel du Louvre, dear sister, where you will take rooms for Mrs. And Miss Bertolle. Be calm; my plans are laid. "

Thereupon, he ran out on the staircase to call the concierge to help himin taking down the trunks. 

Although the manoeuvres required by Papa Ravinet's appearance on board"The Saint Louis" had taken but little time, the delay had been longenough to prevent the ship from going through all the formalities thatsame evening. She had, therefore, to drop anchor at some distance fromthe harbor, to the great disgust of the crew, who saw Marseilles allablaze before them, and who could count the wineshops, and hear thesongs of the half-drunken people as they walked down the wharves inmerry bands. 

The least unhappy of them all was, for once, Daniel. The terribleexcitement he had undergone had given way to utter prostration. Hisnerves, strained to the utmost, relaxed; and he felt the delight of aman who can at last throw down a heavy burden which he has long borneon his shoulders. Papa Ravinet had given him no details; but he did notregret it, he hardly noticed it. He knew positively that his Henriettawas alive; that she was in safety; and that she still loved him. Thatwas enough. 

"Well, lieutenant, " said Lefloch, delighted at his master's joy, "did Inot tell you? Good wind during the passage always brings good news uponlanding. "

That night, while "The Saint Louis" was rocking lazily over her anchors, was the first night, since Daniel had heard of Count Ville-Handry'smarriage, that he slept with that sweet sleep given by hope. He was onlyaroused by the noise of the people who came in the quarantine boat;and, when he came on deck, he found that there was nothing any longer toprevent his going on shore. The men had been actively engaged ever sinceearly in the morning, to set things right aloft and below, so as to"dress" "The Saint Louis;" for every ship, when it enters port, isdecked out gayly, and carefully conceals all traces of injuries she hassuffered, like the carrier-pigeon, which, upon returning to his nestafter a storm, dries and smooths his feathers in the sun. 

Soon the anchors were got up again; and the great clock on the wharfstruck twelve, when Daniel jumped on the wharf at Marseilles, followedby his faithful man, and dazzled by the most brilliant sunlight. Ah!when he felt his foot once more standing on the soil of France, whencea vile plot had driven him long ago, his eyes flashed, and a threateninggesture boded ill to his enemies. It looked as if he were saying tothem, --

"Here I am, and my vengeance will be terrible!"

Neither his joy nor his excitement, however, could make him forget theapprehensions of Papa Ravinet, although he thought they were eccentric, and very much exaggerated. That a spy should be waiting for him in theharbor, concealed in this busy, noisy crowd, to follow his track, andreport his minutest actions, --this seemed to him, if not impossible, atleast very improbable. 

Nevertheless, he determined to ascertain the fact. Instead, therefore, of simply following the wharf, of going up Canebiere Street, and turningto the right on his way to the Hotel du Luxembourg, he went throughseveral narrow streets, turning purposely every now and then. When hereached the hotel, he was compelled to acknowledge that the old dealerhad acted wisely. 

A big fellow, dark complexioned, and wicked looking, had followed thesame route as he, always keeping some thirty yards behind him. The manwho thus watched him, with his nose in the air and his hands in hispockets, hardly suspected the danger which he ran by practising hisprofession within reach of Lefloch. The idea of being tracked put theworthy sailor into a red-hot fury; and he proposed nothing less than to"run foul" of the spy, and make an end of him for good. 

"I can do it in a second, " he assured his master. "I just go up to him, without making him aware of my presence. _I_ seize him by his cravat;I give him two turns, like that--and good-night. He won't track anybodyagain. "

Daniel had to use all his authority to keep him back, and found it stillharder to convince him of the necessity to let the scamp not know thathe had been discovered. 

"Besides, " he added, "it is not proved yet that we are really watched;it may be merely a curious coincidence. "

"That may be so, " growled Lefloch. 

But they could no longer doubt, when, just before dinner, as they lookedout of the window, they saw the same man pass the hotel. At night theysaw him again at the depot; and he took the same express train of9. 45 for Paris, in which they went. They recognized him in therefreshment-room at Lyons. And the first person they saw as they got outat Paris was the same man. 

But Daniel did not mind the spy. He had long since forgotten him. Hethought of nothing but the one fact that he was in the same town nowwith Henrietta. Too impatient to wait for his trunks, he left Leflochin charge, and jumped into a cab, promising the driver two dollars if hewould go as fast as he could to the Hotel du Louvre. For such pay, thelean horses of any cab become equal to English thoroughbreds; and inthree-quarters of an hour Daniel was installed in his room at the hotel, and waited with anxiety the return of the waiter. Now that he was reallyhere, a thousand doubts assailed him: "Had he understood Papa Ravinetcorrectly? Had the good old man given him the right directions? Mightthey not, excited as they both were, have easily made a mistake?"

"In less than a quarter of an hour after your arrival, " Papa Ravinet hadsaid to Daniel, "you shall have news. "

Less than a quarter of an hour! It seemed to Daniel as if he had been aneternity in this room. Thinking that Henrietta might possibly occupy aroom on the same floor with him, on the same side of the house, that hemight even be separated from her only by a partition-wall, he felt likecursing Papa Ravinet, when there came a knock at the door. 

"Come in!" he cried. 

A waiter appeared, and handed him a visiting-card, on which was written, "Mrs. Bertolle, third story. No. 5. "

As the waiter did not instantly disappear, Daniel said almostfuriously, --

"Did I not tell you it was all right?"

He did not want the man to see his excitement, the most intenseexcitement he had ever experienced in all his life. His hands shook; hefelt a burning sensation in his throat; his knees gave way under him. Helooked at himself in the glass, and was startled; he looked deadly pale. 

"Am I going to be ill?" he thought. 

On the table stood a carafe with water. He filled a large glass, anddrank it at one draught; this made him feel better, and he went out. But, once outside, he was so overcome, that he lost his way in the longpassages and interminable staircases, in spite of the directions hung upat every turn, and had finally to ask a waiter, who pointed out a doorwhich he had passed half a dozen times, and said, --

"That is No. 5. "

He knocked gently, and the door opened instantly, as if somebody hadbeen standing behind it, ready to open it promptly. As he entered, hetottered, and, almost in a mist, saw on his right side Papa Ravinet andan old lady, then, farther back, near the window, Henrietta. 

He uttered a cry, and went forward. But as quickly she bounded to meethim, casting both arms around his neck, and leaning upon his bosom, sobbing and stammering, --

"Daniel, Daniel! At last!"

XXIX. 

It was exactly two years since Daniel and Henrietta had been partedby the foulest treachery, --two years since that fatal evening when thestupidly ironical voice of Count Ville-Handry had suddenly made itselfheard near them under the old trees of the garden of the palace. 

What had not happened since then? What unheard-of, most improbableevents; what trials, what tribulations, what sufferings! They hadendured all that the human heart can endure. There was not a day, so tosay, in these two years, that had not brought them its share of griefand sorrow. How often both of them had despaired of the future! How manytimes they had sighed for death!

And yet, after all these storms, here they were reunited once more, inunspeakable happiness, forgetting every thing, --their enemies and thewhole world, the anxieties of the past, and the uncertainty of thefuture. 

They remained thus for a long time, holding each other closely, overcomewith happiness, unable, as yet, to believe in the reality for which theyhad sighed so long, unable to utter a word, laughing and weeping in onebreath. 

Now and then they would move apart a little, throwing back the head inorder the better to look at each other; then swiftly they would foldeach other again closely in their arms, as if they were afraid theymight be separated anew. 

"How they love each other!" whispered Mrs. Bertolle in her brother'sear, --"the poor young people!"

And big tears rolled down her cheeks, while the old dealer, not lesstouched, but showing his emotion differently, closed his hands fiercely, and said, --

"All right, all right! They will have to pay for everything. "

Daniel, in the meantime, was recovering himself gradually; and reasononce more got the better of his feelings. He led Henrietta to an arm-chair at the corner of the fireplace, and sitting down in front of her, after having taken her hands in his own, he asked her to give him afaithful account of the two terrible years that had just come to an end. 

She had to tell him everything, --her humiliations in her father's house, the insults she had endured, the wicked slanders by which her honor hadbeen tainted, the incomprehensible blindness of the count, the surlyprovocations of her step-mother, the horrible attentions of Sir Thorn;in fine, the whole abominable plot which had been formed, as she foundout too late, for the purpose of driving her to seek safety in flight, and to give herself up to Maxime de Brevan. 

Trembling with rage, livid, his eyes bloodshot, Daniel suddenly let goHenrietta's hands, and exclaimed in a half-smothered voice, --

"Ah, Henrietta! your father deserved--Wretched old man! to abandon hischild to the mercy of such miserable wretches!"

And, when the poor girl looked at him imploringly, he replied, --

"Be it so! I will say nothing more of the count. He is your father, andthat is enough. "

Then he added coldly, --

"But that M. Thomas Elgin, I swear by God he shall die by my hand; andas to Sarah Brandon"--

He was interrupted by the old dealer, who tapped him lightly on theshoulder, and said with an indescribable smile, --

"You shall not do that honor to the Hon. M. Elgin, M. Champcey. Peoplelike him do not die by the sword of honest men. "

In the meantime Henrietta had resumed her history, and spoke of hersurprise and amazement when she reached that bare room in Water Street, with its scanty second-hand furniture. 

"And yet, Henrietta, " here broke in Daniel, "I had handed that man allmy money to be placed at your disposal in case of any accident. "

"What!" exclaimed the old dealer, "you had"--

He did not finish, but looked at the young officer with an utterlyamazed air, as if he were an improbable phenomenon, never seen before. 

Daniel shook his head sadly. 

"Yes, " he said, "I know it was an insane thing. But it was less insanethan to intrust my betrothed to his care. I believed in the friendshipof that man. "

"And besides, " remarked Mrs. Bertolle, "how could you suppose suchatrocious treachery? There are crimes which honest hearts never evenconceive. "

Henrietta continued, describing her sensations when she found herselffor the first time in her life harassed by want, destitution, hunger. But, when she came to the disgusting ill-treatment she received at thehands of the concierge's wife, Daniel cried out, --

"Stop!"

And, fearfully excited, he asked her, --

"Did I hear right? Did you say the concierge of that house in WaterStreet, and his wife, were called Chevassat?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because Maxime de Brevan's real name is Justin Chevassat. "

Papa Ravinet started up as if he had been shot. 

"What, " he said, "you know that?"

"I learned it three months ago. I also know that my friend, theproud nobleman, Maxime de Brevan, who has been received in the mostaristocratic _salons_ of Paris, has been a galley-slave, condemned forforgery. "

Henrietta had risen, filled with terror. 

"Then, " she stammered, "this wretched man was"--

"Chevassat's son; yes, madam, " replied Mrs. Bertolle. 

"Oh!" exclaimed the poor girl, "oh!"

And she fell heavily back into her chair, overcome by this discovery. The old dealer alone preserved his calm appearance. 

"How did you learn that?" he asked Daniel. 

"Through the man whom my friend Maxime had hired to murder me. "

Positively this threatened to be too much for Henrietta's mind. 

"Ah! I thought the mean coward would try to get you out of the way, Daniel. I wrote to you to be careful. "

"And I received your letter, my darling, but too late. After havingmissed me twice, the assassin fired at me; and I was in my bed, a ballin my chest, dying. "

"What has become of the murderer?" asked Papa Ravinet. 

"He was arrested. "

"Then he confessed?"

"Yes, thanks to the astonishing cleverness of the magistrate who carriedon the investigation. "

"What has become of him?"

"He has left Saigon by this time. They have sent him home to be triedhere. "

"And Brevan?"

"I am surprised he has not yet been arrested. The papers in the casewere sent to Paris by a vessel which left a fortnight before I left. Tobe sure, 'The Saint Louis' may have gotten ahead of her. At all events, I have in my keeping a letter to the court. "

Papa Ravinet seemed to be almost delirious with joy. He gesticulatedlike a madman; he laughed nervously, and almost frightfully, till hissides shook; and at last he said, --

"I shall see Brevan on the scaffold! Yes, I shall!"

But from that moment there was an end of that logical order which theold gentleman had so far kept up. As it always happens with people whoare under the influence of some passion, eager to learn what they do notknow, and little disposed to tell what they do know, confusion prevailedsoon. Questions crossed each other, and followed, without order orconnection. Answers came at haphazard. Each wanted to be heard; andall were speaking at once. Thus the explanations, which, by a littlemanagement, might have been given in twenty minutes, took them more thantwo hours. 

At last, after the lapse of this time, and by dint of great efforts, itbecame possible to ascertain the sum total of the information given byPapa Ravinet, Daniel, and Henrietta. The truth began to show itselfin the midst of this chaos; and the plot of Sarah Brandon and heraccomplices appeared in all its hideous outlines. A plan of strikingsimplicity, the success of which seemed to have hung upon a hair. If theold dealer, instead of going down by the backstairs, had taken the frontstaircase, he would never have heard Henrietta's agony, and the poorchild would have been lost. 

If Crochard's ball had been a few lines nearer the heart, Daniel wouldhave been killed. 

And still the old dealer was not quite satisfied. He hung his lip, andwinked with his yellow eyes, as if he wished it to be understood thathe was by no means fully convinced, and that there were certain pointswhich required fuller explanation. 

"Look here, M. Champcey, " he began at last, "the more I think of it, themore _I_ am convinced that Sarah Brandon had nothing to do with theseattempts at assassination, which so nearly made an end of you. She istoo strong in her perversity to stoop to such coarse means, which alwaysleave traces behind, and finally lead to a court of justice. She alwaysacts alone, when her mind is made up; and her accomplices aid her onlyunconsciously, so that they can never betray her. "

Daniel had been thoughtful. 

"What you tell me, " he answered, "I was told before by M. De Brevan. "

The old gentleman did not seem to hear him, so intensely did he applyall the faculties of his mind to the problem before him. 

"Still, " he continued, "there is no doubt about the manner in whichCrochard, surnamed Bagnolet, was employed. Could Brevan have done sowithout Sarah's knowledge, and perhaps even contrary to her wishes?"

"That is quite possible; but then why should he have done so?"

"To secure to himself the fortune which M. Champcey had so imprudentlyintrusted to him, " said Henrietta. 

But Papa Ravinet shook his head, looking very wise, and said, --

"That is one explanation. I do not say no to it; but it is not the trueone yet. Murder is so dangerous an expedient, that even the boldestcriminals only resort to it in the last extremity, and generally verymuch against their inclination. Could not Brevan have possessed himselfof M. Champcey's property without a murder? Of course, he could. 

"Then we must look for another motive. You may say, it was fear whichdrove him to it. No; for at the time when he engaged Crochard, he couldnot foresee the atrocious outrages of which he would have become guiltyduring the succeeding year. Believe my experience; I discern in thewhole affair a hurry and an awkwardness which betray a passion, aviolent hatred, or, perhaps"--

He stopped suddenly, and seemed to reflect and deliberate, while he wasmechanically stroking his chin. Then all of a sudden, looking strangelyat Daniel, he asked him, --

"Could the Countess Sarah be in love with you, M. Champcey?"

Daniel's face turned crimson. He had not forgotten that fatal evening, when, in the house in Circus Street, he had held Sarah Brandon in hisarms; and the intoxicating delirium of that moment had left in his hearta bitter and undying pang of remorse. He had never dared confess toHenrietta that Sarah had actually come to his rooms alone. And evento-night, while giving very fully all the details of his passage out, and his residence in Saigon, he had not said a word of the letters whichhad been addressed to him by the countess. 

"Sarah Brandon in love with me?" he stammered. "What an idea!"

But he could not tell a falsehood; and Henrietta would not have been awoman, if she had not noticed his embarrassment. 

"Why not?" she asked. 

And, looking fixedly at Daniel, she went on, --

"That wretched woman impudently boasted to my face that she loved you;more than that, she swore that you, also, had loved her, and were stillin love with her. She laughed at me contemptuously, telling me that shehad it in her power to make you do anything she chose, and offering toshow me your letters"--

She paused a moment, turned her head aside, and said with a visibleeffort, --

"Finally, M. Thomas Elgin assured me that Sarah Brandon had been yourmistress, and that the marriage with my father took place only inconsequence of a quarrel between you. "

Daniel had listened to her, trembling with indignation. He now criedout, --

"And you could believe these false calumnies! Oh, no, no! tell me thatthere is no need for me to justify myself to"--

Then turning to Papa Ravinet, he said, --

"Suppose, we admit, for a moment, that she might have been in love, asyou say, what would that prove?"

The cunning old dealer remained apparently unmoved for a time; but hissmall eyes were sparkling with malicious delight and satisfaction. 

"Ah! you would not talk so, if you knew Sarah Brandon's antecedents aswell as I do. Ask my sister about her and Maxime de Brevan, and she willtell you why I look upon that apparently trifling circumstance as sovery important. "

Mrs. Bertolle made a sign that she assented; and he, sure, henceforth, that his sagacity had not been at fault, continued, --

"Pardon me, M. Champcey, if I insist, and especially if I do so in MissHenrietta's presence; but our interest, I might almost say our safety, requires it. Maxime de Brevan is caught, to be sure; but he is only avulgar criminal; and we have, as yet, neither Thomas Elgin, nor Mrs. Brian, who are far more formidable, nor, above all, Sarah Brandon, whois a thousand times more wicked, and more guilty, than all the rest. Youwill tell me that we have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred onour side; maybe! Only a single, slight mistake may lead us altogetherastray; and then there is an end to all our hopes, and these rascalstriumph after all!"

He was but too right. Daniel felt it; and hence he said, withouthesitating any longer, but looking stealthily at Henrietta's face, --

"Since that is so, I will not conceal from you that the Countess Sarahhas written me a dozen letters of at least extraordinary nature. "

"You have kept them, I hope?"

"Yes; they are all in one of my trunks. "

Papa Ravinet was evidently much embarrassed; but at last he said, --

"Ah! if I might dare? But no; it would be asking too much, perhaps, tobeg you to let me see them?"

He did not know how ready Daniel was to grant the request. Ready as hewas, to tell Henrietta everything, he could not but wish that she shouldread these letters, as she would see from them, that, if the countesshad written to him, he had never returned an answer. 

"You can never ask too much, M. Ravinet, " he replied. "Lefloch, myservant, must have come up by this time with the trunks; and, if yougive me time to go down to my room, you shall have the letters at once. "

He was on the point of leaving the room, when the old dealer held himback, and said, --

"Sir, you forget the man who has been following you all the way fromMarseilles. Wait till my sister has made sure that there is nobodywatching you. "

Mrs. Bertolle at once went out; but she noticed nothing suspicious, andfound all the passages silent and deserted. The spy had probably gone tomake his report to his employers. Daniel went down promptly; and, whenhe came back, he held in his hand a bundle of faded and crumpled papers, which he handed to Papa Ravinet, with the words, --

"Here they are!"

Strange as it may seem, when the old gentleman touched these letters, impregnated with the peculiar perfume affected by Sarah Brandon, hetrembled and turned pale. Immediately, however, perhaps in order toconceal his embarrassment, or to be the better able to reflect, he tooka candlestick from the mantlepiece, and sat down aside, at one of thesmall tables. Mrs. Bertolle, Daniel, and Henrietta were silent; andnothing broke the stillness but the rustling of the paper, and the oldgentleman's voice as he muttered, --

"This is fabulous, --Sarah writing such things! She did not even disguiseher handwriting, --she who never committed an imprudence in her life; sheruins herself. And she signs her name!"

But he had seen enough. He folded up the letters, and, rising again, said to Champcey, --

"No doubt now! Sarah loves you madly, insanely. Ah! how she does love!Well, well, all heartless women love thus when a sudden passion conquersthem, setting their brains and their senses on fire, and"--

Daniel noticed in Henrietta's face a sign of concern; and, quitedistressed, he beckoned to the old gentleman to say nothing more. But hesaw nothing, full as he was of his notion, and went on, --

"Now I understand. Sarah Brandon has not been able to keep her secret;and Brevan, seeing her love, and furious with jealousy, did not considerthat to hire an assassin was to ruin himself. "

The indignation he felt had restored the blood to his face; and, as hestruck the packet of letters with the palm of his hand, he exclaimed, --

"Yes, all is clear now; and by this correspondence, Sarah Brandon, youare ours!"

What could be the plan of Papa Ravinet? Did he expect to use theseletters as weapons against her? or did he propose to send them to CountVille-Handry in order to open his eyes? Daniel trembled at the idea; forhis loyalty rebelled against such a vengeance; he felt as if he wouldhave become a traitor. 

"You see, to use a woman's correspondence, however odious andcontemptible she may be, would always be very repugnant to me. "

"I had no idea of asking such a thing of you, " replied the old dealer. "No; it is something very different I want you to do. "

And, when Daniel still seemed to be embarrassed, he added, --

"You ought not to give way to such exaggerated delicacy, M. Champcey. All weapons are fair when we are called upon to defend our lives and ourhonor against rascals; and that is where we are. If we do not hasten tostrike Sarah Brandon, she will anticipate us; and then"--

He had been leaning against the mantlepiece, close to Mrs. Bertolle, whosat there silent and immovable; and now he raised his head, and, lookingattentively at Henrietta and Daniel by turns, he added, --

"Perhaps you are both not exactly conscious of the position in which youstand. Having been reunited to-night, after such terrible trials, andhaving, both of you, escaped, almost by a miracle, from death, you feel, no doubt, as if all trouble was at an end, and the future was yours. Imust undeceive you. You are precisely where you were the day before M. Champcey left France. You cannot any more now than at that time marrywithout Count Ville-Handry's consent. Will he give it? You know verywell that the Countess Sarah will not let him. Will you defy prejudices, and proudly avow your love? Ah, have a care! If you sin against socialconventionalities, you risk your whole happiness of life. Will you hideyourself, on the other hand? However careful you may be, the world willfind you out; and fools and hypocrites will overwhelm you with slander. And Miss Henrietta has been too much calumniated already. "

To soar in the azure air, and suddenly to fall back into the mud onearth; to indulge in the sweetest of dreams, and all at once to berecalled to stern reality, --this is what Daniel and Henrietta endured atthat moment. The calm, collected voice of the old dealer sounded cruelto them. Still he was but a sincere friend, who did his painful duty inawakening them from such deceptive illusions. 

"Now, " he went on, "mind that I take everything at the best; and evensuppose the case, that Count Ville-Handry leaves his daughter freeto choose: would that be enough? Evidently not; for the moment SarahBrandon hears that Miss Henrietta has not committed suicide, butis, instead, at the Hotel du Louvre, within easy reach of M. DanielChampcey, she will prevail on her husband to shut his daughter up in aconvent. For another year, Miss Henrietta is yet under paternal control;that is, in this case, at the mercy of a revengeful step-mother, wholooks upon her as a successful rival. "

At this idea, that Henrietta might be once more taken from him, Danielfelt his blood chill off in his veins; and he exclaimed, --

"Ah, and I never dreamed of any of these things! I was mad! Joy hadblinded my eyes completely. "

But the old gentleman beckoned to him to say nothing, and with an almostimperious gesture went on, --

"Oh, wait! I have not yet shown you the most urgent danger: CountVille-Handry, who, when you knew him, had, I know not how many millions, is completely ruined. Of all he once owned, of his lands, forests, castles, deeds, and bonds, there is nothing left. His last cent, hislast rod of land, has been taken from him. You left him living like aprince in his forefathers' palace: you will find him vegetating inthe fourth story of a lodging-house. You know, that, being poor, he isdeemed guilty. The day is drawing near when Sarah Brandon will get ridof him, as she has gotten rid of Kergrist, of Malgat the poorcashier, and others. The means are at hand. Already the name ofCount Ville-Handry is seriously compromised. The company which he hasestablished is breaking to pieces; and the papers hold him up to publiccontempt. If he cannot pay to-day, he will be to-morrow accused offraudulent bankruptcy. Now, I ask you, is the count a man who willsurvive such a disgrace?"

For some time Henrietta had been unable to suppress her sobs; under thisterrible threat she broke out in loud weeping. 

"Ah, sir!" she said, "you have misled me. You assured me that myfather's life was in no danger. "

"And I promise you still, it is not in danger. Would I be here, if I didnot think that Sarah was not quite ready yet?"

Daniel, also, had suffered terribly during this discussion; and he nowsaid passionately, --

"Would it not be a crime for us to think, to wait, and to calculate, when such great dangers are impending? Come, sir, let us go"--

"Where?"

"Ah, how do I know? Into court, to the count, to a lawyer who can adviseus. There must be something that can be done. "

The old dealer did not stir. 

"Poor, honest young man!" he said with an accent of bitter irony. "Andwhat could we tell the lawyer? That Sarah Brandon has made an old man, the Count Ville-Handry, fall madly in love with her? That is no crime. That she has made him marry her? That was her right. That the counthas launched forth in speculations? She opposed it. That he understoodnothing of business? She could not help that. That he has been duped, cheated, and finally ruined in two short years? Apparently she is asmuch ruined as he is. That, in order to delay the catastrophe, he hasresorted to illegal means? She is sorry for it. That he will not survivethe taint on his ancient name? What can she do? Sarah, who was able toclear herself the day after Malgat's disappearance, will not be at aloss now to establish her innocence. "

"But the count, sir, the count! Can we not go to him?"

"Count Ville-Handry would say to you--But you shall hear to-morrow whathe will tell you. "

Daniel began to feel utterly dismayed. 

"What can be done, then?" he asked. 

"We must wait till we have sufficient evidence in hand to crush at oneblow Sarah Brandon, Thorn, and Mrs. Brian. "

"Well; but how shall we get such evidence?"

The old gentleman cast a look of intelligence at his sister, smiled, andsaid with a strange accent in his voice, --

"I have collected some. As to the rest"--

"Well?"

"Well, my dear M. Champcey, I am no longer troubled about getting more, since I have found out that the Countess Sarah is in love with you. "

Now Daniel began to understand the part Papa Ravinet expected him toplay. Still he did not object; he bowed his head under the clear eye ofHenrietta, and said in a low voice, --

"I will do what you wish me to do, sir. "

The old gentleman uttered a low cry of delight, as if he had beenrelieved of an overwhelming anxiety. 

"Then, " he said, "we will begin the campaign tomorrow morning. But wemust know exactly who the enemies are whom we have to meet. Listen, therefore!"

XXX. 

It struck midnight; but the poor people in the little parlor in theHotel du Louvre hardly thought of sleep. How could they have becomeaware of the flight of time, as long as all their faculties were bentupon the immense interests that were at stake? On the struggle whichthey were about to undertake depended Count Ville-Handry's life andhonor, and the happiness and whole future life of Daniel and Henrietta. 

And Papa Ravinet and his sister had said, --"As for us, even more thanthat depends upon it. " The old dealer, therefore, drew up an easy-chair, sat down, and began in a somewhat husky voice, --

"The Countess Sarah is not Sarah Brandon, and is not an American. Herreal name, by which she was known up to her sixteenth year, is ErnestineBergot; and she was born in Paris, in the suburb of Saint Martin, juston the line of the corporation. To tell you in detail what the firstyears of Sarah were like would be difficult indeed. There are things ofthat kind which do not bear being mentioned. Her childhood might be herexcuse, if she could be excused at all. 

"Her mother was one of those unfortunate women of whom Paris devoursevery year several thousands; who come from the provinces in woodenshoes, and are seen, six months later, dressed in all the fashion; andwho live a short, gay life, which invariably ends in the hospital. 

"Her mother was neither better nor worse than the rest. When herdaughter came, she had neither the sense to part with her, nor thecourage--perhaps (who knows?) she had not the means--to mend her ways. Thus the little one grew up by God's mercy, but at the Devil's bidding, living by chance, now stuffed with sweet things, and now half-killed byblows, fed by the charity of neighbors, while her mother remained forweeks absent from her lodgings. 

"Four years old, she wandered through the neighborhood dressed infragments of silk or velvet, with a faded ribbon in her hair, butwith bare feet in her torn shoes, hoarse, and shivering with severecolds, --very much after the fashion of lost dogs, who rove aroundopen-air cooking-shops, --and looking in the gutters for cents with whichto buy fried potatoes or spoilt fruit. 

"At a later time she extended the circle of her excursions, and wanderedall over Paris, in company of other children like herself, stoppingon the boulevards, before the brilliant shops or performing jugglers, trying to learn how to steal from open stalls, and at night asking in aplaintive voice for alms in behalf of her poor sick father. When twelveyears old she was as thin as a plank, and as green as a June apple, withsharp elbows and long red hands. But she had beautiful light hair, teethlike a young dog's, and large, impudent eyes. Merely upon seeing her goalong, her head high with an air of saucy indifference, coquettish underher rags, and walking with elastic steps, you would have guessed inher the young Parisian girl, the sister of the poor 'gamin, ' a thousandtimes more wicked than her brothers, and far more dangerous to society. She was as depraved as the worst of sinners, fearing neither God nor theDevil, nor man, nor anything. 

"However, she did fear the police. 

"For from them she derived the only notions of morality she everpossessed; otherwise, it would have been love's labor lost to talk toher of virtue or of duty. These words would have conveyed no meaningto her imagination; she knew no more about them than about the abstractideas which they represent. 

"One day, however, her mother, who had virtually made a servant of her, had a praiseworthy inspiration. Finding that she had some money, shedressed her anew from head to foot, bought her a kind of outfit, andbound her as an apprentice to a dressmaker. 

"But it came too late. 

"Every kind of restraint was naturally intolerable to such a vagabondnature. The order and the regularity of the house in which she livedwere a horror to her. To sit still all day long, a needle in her hand, appeared to her harder than death itself. The very comforts around herembarrassed her, and she felt as a savage would feel in tight boots. Atthe end of the first week, therefore, she ran away from the dressmaker, stealing a hundred francs. As long as these lasted, she roved overParis. When they were spent, and she was hungry, she came back to hermother. 

"But her mother had moved away, and no one knew what had become of her. She was inquired after, but never found. Any other person would havebeen in despair. Not she. The same day she entered as waiter in acheap coffee-house. Turned out there, she found employment in a lowrestaurant, where she had to wash up the dishes and plates. Sent awayhere, also, she became a servant in two or three other places of stilllower character; then, at last, utterly disgusted, she determined to donothing at all. 

"She was sinking into the gutter, she was on the point of being lostbefore she had reached womanhood, like fruit which spoils before it isripe, when a man turned up who was fated to arm her for life's Struggle, and to change the vulgar thief into the accomplished monster ofperversity whom you know. "

Here Papa Ravinet suddenly paused, and, looking at Daniel, said, --

"You must not believe, M. Champcey, that these details are imaginary. I have spent five years of my life in tracing out Sarah's earlylife, --five years, during which I have been going from door to door, ever in search of information. A dealer in second-hand goods enterseverywhere without exciting suspicion. And then I have witnesses toprove everything I have told you so far, --witnesses whom I shall summon, and who will speak whenever the necessity arises to establish theidentity of the Countess Sarah. "

Daniel made no reply. 

Like Henrietta, even like Mrs. Bertolle, at this moment he wascompletely fascinated by the old gentleman's manner and tone. Thelatter, after having rested for a few minutes, went on, --

"The man who picked up Sarah was an old German artist, painter andmusician both, of rare genius, but a maniac, as they called him. At allevents, he was a good, an excellent man. 

"One winter morning, as he was at work in his studio, he was struck bythe strange ring in a woman's voice, which recited in the court-yardbelow a popular song. He went to the window, and beckoned the singer tocome up. It was Sarah; and she came. The good German used often to speakof the deep compassion which seized him as he saw this tall girl offourteen come into his studio, --a child, stained by vice already, thinlike hunger itself, and shivering in her thin calico dress. But he wasat the same time almost dazzled by the rich promises of beauty in herface, the pure notes of her superb voice, which had withstood so far, and the surprising intelligence beaming in her features. 

"He guessed what there was in her; he saw her, in his mind's eye, suchas she was to be at twenty. 

"Then he asked her how she had come to be reduced to such misery, whoshe was, where her parents lived, and what they did for a living. Whenshe had told him that she stood quite alone, and was dependent on noone, he said to her, --

"'Well, if you will stay with me, I will adopt you; you shall be mydaughter; and I will make you an eminent artist. '

"The studio was warm, and it was bitterly cold outside. Sarah had noroof over her head, and had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. Sheaccepted. 

"She accepted, be it understood, not doubting, in her perversity, butthat this kind old man had other intentions besides those he mentionedin offering her a home. She was mistaken. He recognized in hermarvellous talents, and thought of nothing but of making of her a truemarvel, which should astonish the world. He devoted himself heart andsoul to his new favorite, with all the enthusiastic ardor of an artist, and all the jealous passion of an amateur. 

"It was a hard task, however, which he had undertaken. Sarah could noteven read. She knew nothing, except sin. 

"How the old German went to work to keep this untamable vagabond athome, how he made her bend to his will, and submit to his lessons, noone will ever be able to tell. It was long a problem for me also. Someof the neighbors told me that he treated her harshly, beating her oftenbrutally; but neither threats nor blows were apt to make an impressionon Sarah Brandon. A friend of the old man's thought he had guessed theriddle: he thought the old artist had succeeded in arousing Sarah'spride. He had kindled in her a boundless ambition and the mostpassionate covetousness. He intoxicated her with fairylike hopes. 

"'Follow my counsels, ' he used to say to her, 'and at twenty you will bea queen, --a queen of beauty, of wit, and of genius. Study, and theday will come when you will travel through Europe, a renowned artist, welcomed in every capital, _feted_ everywhere, honored, and glorified. Work, and wealth will come with fame, --immense, boundless wealth, surpassing all your dreams. You will have the finest carriages, the mostmagnificent diamonds; you will draw from inexhaustible purses; the wholeworld will be at your feet; and the women will turn pale with envy andjealousy when they see you. Among men there will be none so noble, noneso great, none so rich, but he will beg for one of your looks; and theywill fight for one of your smiles. Only work and study!'

"At all events, Sarah did work, and studied with a steady perseverancewhich spoke of her faith in the promises of her old master, and of theinfluence he had obtained over her through her vanity. At first shehad been deterred by the extreme difficulties which beset so latea beginning; but her amazing natural gifts had soon begun to showthemselves, and in a short time her progress was almost miraculous. 

"It is true that her innate sagacity had made her soon find out howignorant she was of the world. She saw that society did not exclusivelyconsist, as she had heretofore imagined, of people like those she hadknown. She felt, for instance, what she had never suspected before, thather unfortunate mother, with all her friends and companions, were onlythe rare exceptions, laid under the ban by the immense majority. 

"At last she actually learned to know the tree of good fruit, afterhaving for so many years known only the tree of forbidden fruit. Shelistened with eager curiosity to all the old artist had to tell her. Andhe knew much; for the eccentric old man had travelled for a long timeover the world, and observed man on every step of the social ladder. Hehad been a favorite artist at the court of Vienna; he had had severalof his operas brought out in Italy; and he had been admitted to the bestsociety in Paris. At night, therefore, while sipping his coffee, hisfeet on the andirons, and his long pipe in his mouth, he would soonforget himself amid the recollections of his youth. He described to herthe splendor of courts, the beauty of women, the magnificence of theirtoilets, and the intrigues which he had seen going on around him. Hespoke to her of the men whose portraits he had painted, of the mannersand the jealousies behind the stage, and of the great singers who hadsung in his operas. 

"Thus it came about, that, two years later, no one would have recognizedthe lean, wretched-looking vagabond of the suburbs in this fresh, rosygirl, with the lustrous eyes and the modest mien, whom they called inthe house the 'pretty artist in the fifth story. '

"And yet the change was only on the surface. 

"Sarah was already too thoroughly corrupted, when the good German pickedher up, to be capable of being entirely changed. He thought he hadinfused his own rough honesty into her veins: he had only taught her anew vice, --hypocrisy. 

"The soul remained corrupt; and all the charms with which it wasoutwardly adorned became only so many base allurements, like thosebeautiful flowers which unfold their splendor on the surface ofbottomless swamps, and thus lead those whom they attract to miserabledeath. 

"At that time, however, Sarah did not yet possess that marvellousself-control which became one of her great charms hereafter; and at theend of two years she could endure this peaceful atmosphere no longer;she grew homesick after sin. 

"As she was already a very fair musician, and her voice, trained bya great master, possessed amazing power, she urged her old teacher toprocure her an engagement at one of the theatres. He refused in a mannerwhich made it clear to her that he would never change his mind on thatsubject. He wanted to secure to his pupil one of those debuts which arean apotheosis; and he had decided, as he told her, that she should notappear in public till she had reached the full perfection of her voiceand her talent, --certainly not before her nineteenth or twentieth year. 

"That meant she should wait three or four years longer, --a century!

"In former days Sarah would not have hesitated a moment; she would haverun away. 

"But education had changed her ideas. She was quite able now to reflectand to calculate. She asked herself where she could go, alone, withoutmoney, without friends, and what she should do, and what would become ofher. 

"She knew what destitution meant, and she was afraid of it now. 

"When she thought of the life her mother had led, --a long series ofnights spent in orgies, and of days without bread; that life of distressand disgrace, when she depended on the whims of a good-for-nothing, orthe suspicions of a police constable, --Sarah felt the cold perspirationbreak out on her temples. 

"She wanted her liberty; but she did not want it without money. Viceattracted her irresistibly; but it was gorgeous vice, seated in acarriage, and bespattering with mud the poor, honest women who had towalk on foot, while it was envied by the crowd, and worshipped by thefoolish. She remained, therefore, and studied hard. 

"Perhaps, in spite of everything, in spite of herself and her execrableinstincts, Sarah might have become a great artist, if the old German hadnot been taken from her by a terrible accident. 

"One fine afternoon in April, in the beginning of spring, he was smokinghis pipe at the window, when he heard a noise in the street, and leanedover to see. 

"The bar broke, --he tried in vain to hold on to the window-frame, --andthe next moment he fell from the fifth story to the ground, and waskilled instantly. 

"I have held in my own hands the police report of the accident. Itstates that the fall was unavoidable; and that, if no such calamity hadoccurred before, this was due to the simple fact, that, during the badweather, nobody had thought of looking out of the window. The castingsof the little railing in front were found to be broken in two places, and so long ago, that a thick layer of rust had filled up the cracks. The wooden part had become perfectly loose, as the mortar thatoriginally had kept it in place had been apparently eaten away by thewinter frosts. "

Daniel and Henrietta had turned very pale. It was evident that the sameterrible suspicion had flashed upon their mind. 

"Ah! it was Sarah's work, " they exclaimed simultaneously. "It was Sarahwho had broken the bar, and loosened the wooden rods; she had, no doubt, been watching for months to see her benefactor fall and kill himself. "

Papa Ravinet shook his head. 

"I do not say that, " he said; "and, at all events, it would beimpossible to prove it at this time, --I mean, to prove it against herdenial. It is certain that no one suspected Sarah. She seemed to be indespair; and everybody pitied her sincerely. Was she not ruined by thismisfortune?

"The old artist had left no will. His relatives, of whom several livedin Paris, rushed to his rooms; and their first act was to dismiss Sarah, after having searched her trunks, and after giving her to understandthat she ought to be very grateful if she was allowed to take away allshe said she owed to the munificence of her late patron. 

"Still the inheritance was by no means what the heirs had expected. Knowing that the deceased had had ample means, and how simply he hadalways lived, they expected to find in his bureau considerable savings. There was nothing. A single bond for less than two thousand dollars, anda small sum in cash, were all that was found. 

"Ah! I have long endeavored to find out what had become of the variousbonds and the ready money of the old artist; for everybody who had knownhim agreed that there must be some. Do you know what I discovered bydint of indefatigable investigations? I procured leave to examine thebooks of the savings-bank in which he invested his earnings for the yearof his death; and I found there, that on the 17th of April, that is, five days before the poor German's fall, a certain Ernestine Bergot haddeposited a sum of fifteen hundred francs. "

"Ah, you see!" exclaimed Daniel. "Weary of the simple life with the oldman, she murdered him in order to get hold of his money. "

But the old gentleman continued, as if he had heard nothing, --

"What Sarah did during the three first months of her freedom, I cannottell. If she went and rented furnished lodgings, she did it under afalse name. A clerk in the mayor's office, who is a great lover ofcuriosities, and for whom I have procured many a good bargain, hadall the lists of lodging-houses for the four months from April to Julycarefully examined; but no Ernestine Bergot could be found. 

"I am quite sure, however, that she thought of the stage. One ofthe former secretaries of the Lyric Theatre told me he recollecteddistinctly a certain Ernestine, beautiful beyond description, who, cameseveral times, and requested a trial. She was, however, refused, simplybecause her pretensions were almost ridiculous. And this was quitenatural; for her head was still full of all the ambitious dreams of theold artist. 

"The first positive trace I find of Sarah in that year appears towardsthe end of summer. She was then living in a fashionable street witha young painter full of talent, and very rich, called Planix. Did shereally love him? The friends of the unfortunate young man were sure shedid not. But he--he worshipped her; he loved her passionately, madly, and was so absurdly jealous, that he became desperate if she stayed outan hour longer than he expected. Hence she often complained of his love, which restrained her cherished liberty; and still she bore it patientlytill fate threw in her way Maxime de Brevan. "

At the name of the wretch who had been so bent upon ruining them both, and who had been so nearly successful, Henrietta and Daniel trembled, and looked at each other. But Papa Ravinet did not give them, time toask any questions, and continued, as calmly as if he had been reading areport, --

"It was several years before this, that Justin Chevassat, released fromthe galleys, had made a nobleman of himself, and claimed before all theworld to be Maxime de Brevan. We need not be surprised, in this age ofours, where impudence takes the place of everything else, that he shouldhave promptly succeeded in making his way into high life, and in beingadmitted to many houses which were considered more or less exclusive. In a society which seems to have adopted for its motto the words'Toleration and Discretion, ' and where, consequently, anybody isadmitted without question, Justin Chevassat very naturally had a greatsuccess. He had carefully prepared his way, like those adventurers whonever appear abroad without having their passports in much better orderthan most honest travellers. He had learned prudence by experience; forhis antecedents were stormy enough, though less so than Sarah's. 

"Justin's parents, Mr. And Mrs. Chevassat, now concierges of No. 23Water Street, were, some thirty-eight or forty years ago, living in theupper part of the suburb of Saint Honore. They had a very modest littleshop, partly restaurant, partly bar: their customers were generally theservants of the neighborhood. They were people of easy principles andloose morals, --as there are so many in our day, --honest enough as longas there is nothing to be gained by being otherwise. As their tradeprospered, they were not dishonest; and, when any of their customersforgot their portemonnaies at the shop, they always returned them. Thehusband was twenty-four, and the wife nineteen years old, when, to theirgreat joy, a son was born. There was rejoicing in the shop; and thechild was christened Justin, in honor of his godfather, who was no lessa personage than the valet of the Marquis de Brevan. 

"But to have a son is a small matter. To bring him up till he isseven or eight years old, is nothing. The difficulty is to give him aneducation which shall secure him a position in the world. This thoughtnow began to occupy the minds of his parents incessantly. These stupidpeople, who had a business which supported them handsomely, and enabledthem, in the course of time, to amass a small fortune, did not see thatthe best thing they could have done would have been to enlarge it, andto leave it to their son. But no. They vowed they would sacrifice alltheir savings, and deprive themselves even of the necessaries of life, in order that their Justin might become a 'gentleman. '

"And what a gentleman! The mother dreamed of him as a rich broker, or, at the very least, a notary's first clerk. The father preferred seeinghim a government official, holding one of those much-coveted places, which give the owner, after twenty-five years' service, a title, and anincome of some six or seven hundred dollars. 

"The result of all these speculations was, that, at the age of nine, Master Justin was sent to a high school. He conducted himself there justbadly enough to be perpetually on the brink of being sent away, withoutever being really expelled. This made but little impression upon the twoChevassats. They had become so accustomed to look upon their son as asuperior being, that it never entered their mind to think he was not thefirst, the best, and the most remarkable pupil of the establishment. IfJustin's reports were bad, --and they were always bad, --they accusedthe teachers of partiality. If he gained no prize at the end of theyear, --and he never got any, --they did not know what to do for him toconsole him for having been victimized by such cruel injustice. 

"The consequences of such a system need hardly be stated. 

"When Justin was fourteen years old, he despised his parents thoroughly, treated them like servants, and was so much ashamed of them, that hewould not allow his mother to come and see him in the parlor of thecollege to which he had been admitted of late. When he was at homeduring vacations, he would have cut his right arm off rather than helphis father, or pour out a glass of wine for a customer. He even stayedaway from the house on the plea that he could not endure the odors fromthe kitchen. 

"Thus he reached his seventeenth year. His course was not completed;but, as he was tired of college-life, he declared he would not returnthere, and he never did return. When his father asked him timidly whathe proposed doing, he shrugged his shoulders as his sole reply. What didhe do? Nothing. He idled about Paris. 

"To dress in the height of fashion; to walk up and down before the mostrenowned restaurants, with a toothpick in his mouth; to hire a carriage, and drive it himself, having a hired groom in livery by his side, --thiswas the delight of those days. At night he gambled; and, when he lost, there was the till in his father's shop. 

"His parents had rented for him, and comfortably furnished, a nice setof rooms in their house, and tried by all manner of servility to keephim at home, neglecting even their own business in order to be alwaysready for his orders. But this did not prevent him from being constantlyaway. He said he could not possibly receive his friends in a house wherehis name was to be seen on the signboard of such a low establishment. 

"It was his despair to be the son of a restaurant-keeper, and to becalled Chevassat. 

"But greater grief was to come to him after two years' idle andexpensive life such as has been described. 

"One fine morning when he needed a couple of hundred dollars, hisparents told him, with tears in their eyes, that they had not twentydollars in the house; that they were at the end of their resources; thatthe day before a note of theirs had been protested; and that they wereat that moment on the brink of bankruptcy. They did not reproach Justinwith having spent all their savings; oh, no! On the contrary, theyhumbly asked his pardon, if they were no longer able to provide for hiswants. And, with fear and trembling, they at last ventured to suggest, that perhaps it would be well if he should seek some kind of work. 

"He told them coolly that he would think it over, but that he must havehis two hundred dollars. And he got them. His father and mother hadstill a watch and some jewelry; they pawned everything and brought himthe proceeds. 

"Still he saw that the till he had considered inexhaustible was reallyempty, and that henceforth his pockets also would be empty, unless hecould devise some means to fill them. He went, therefore, in search ofsome employment; and his godfather, the valet, found one for him at thehouse of a banker, who was in want of a reliable young man to be trainedfor his business, and hereafter to be intrusted with the management ofhis funds. "

Papa Ravinet's voice changed so perceptibly as he uttered these lastwords, that Daniel and Henrietta, with one impulse, asked him, --

"Is anything the matter, sir?"

He did not make any reply; but his sister, Mrs. Bertolle, said, --

"No, there is nothing the matter with my brother;" and she looked at himwith a nod of encouragement. 

"I am all right, " he said, like an echo. Then, making a great effort, hecontinued, --

"Justin Chevassat was at twenty precisely what you know him to be asMaxime de Brevan, --a profound dissembler, a fierce egotist devoured byvanity, in fine, a man of ardent passions, and capable of anything tosatisfy his desires. 

"The hope of getting rich at once by some great stroke was already sodeeply rooted in his mind, that it gave him the strength to change hishabits and manner of life from one day to another, and to keep up thedeceit with a perseverance unheard of at his age. This lazy, profligategambler rose with the day, worked ten hours a day, and became the modelof all clerks. He had resolved to win the favor of his patron, and to betrusted. He succeeded in doing it by the most consummate hypocrisy. Sothat, only two years after he had first been admitted into the house, he had already been promoted to a place which conferred upon him thekeeping of all the valuables of the firm. 

"This occurred before those accidents which have, since that time, procured for the keepers of other people's money such a sad reputation. Nowadays it seems almost an ordinary event to hear of some cashier'srunning away with the funds intrusted to his keeping; and no one isastonished. To create a sensation by such an occurrence, the sum must bealmost fabulous, say, two or three millions. And, even in that case, theloser is by no means the man in whom the world is most interested. 

"At the time of which I am now speaking, defalcations were quite rare asyet. Financial companies and brokers did not contemplate being robbed bytheir own clerks as one of the ordinary risks. When they knew the keysof their safe to be in the hands of an honest man, whose family and modeof life were well known, they slept soundly. Justin Chevassat's patronwas thus sleeping soundly for ten months, when one Sunday he wasspecially in need of certain bonds which Justin used to keep in one ofthe drawers of his desk. He did not like to have his clerk hunted up onsuch a day; so he simply sent for a locksmith to open the drawer. 

"The first thing he saw was a draft signed by himself; and yet he hadnever put his name to such a paper. Still, most assuredly, it was hissignature; he would have sworn to it in court. And yet he was as sure ashe was standing there, that it was not he who had put his name, and thesomewhat complicated ornament belonging to it, where he saw it written. 

"His first amazement was succeeded by grievous apprehension. He had theother drawers opened likewise, searched them, and soon discovered allthe details of a formidable and most ingenious plan, by which he was tobe robbed at a single blow of more than a million. 

"If he had slept soundly one month longer, he would have been ruined. His favorite clerk was a wretch, a forger of matchless skill. Heinstantly sent for a detective; and the next morning, when JustinChevassat came as usual, he was arrested. It was then thought thathis crime was confined to this abortive attempt. Not so. A minute andcareful examination of all the papers soon revealed other misdeeds. Evidence was found, that, on the very next day after the day on which hehad been appointed confidential clerk, he had stolen a thousand dollars, concealing his theft by a false entry. Since that time not a week hadpassed without his laying hands on a more or less considerable sum;and all these thefts had been most ingeniously covered by such skilfulimitations of other people's signatures, that he had once been sick fora fortnight, and yet his substitute had never become aware of anything. In fine, it appeared that the sum total of his defalcations amounted tosome eighty thousand dollars. 

"What had he done with all that money? The magistrate before whom he wasbrought at once asked that question. He replied that he had not a centleft. His explanations and his excuses were the old story pleaded by allwho put their hands into their neighbors' pockets. 

"To hear him, no one could be more innocent than he was, however guiltyhe might appear at first sight. He was like one of those men who allowtheir little finger to be caught in a machine. His only fault was thedesire to speculate on 'Change. Did not his employer speculate himself?Having lost some money, and fearing to lose his place if he did not pay, the fatal thought had occurred to him to borrow from the strong box. From that moment he had only cherished one thought, --to restore whathe had taken. If he speculated anew, it was from extreme honesty, andbecause he constantly hoped to gain enough to make restitution. Butmost extraordinary ill luck had pursued him; so that, seeing the deficitgrowing larger and larger, and overcome with remorse and terror, he hadalmost gone mad, and ceased to put any restraint upon himself. 

"He laid great stress upon the fact that his whole eighty thousanddollars had been lost on 'Change, and that he would have looked uponhimself as the meanest of rascals, if he had spent any part of it on hispersonal enjoyments. Unfortunately the forged checks and drafts in hisdrawer destroyed the force of this plea. Convinced that the sums he hadthus obtained were not lost, the investigating magistrate suspectedthe parents of the accused. He questioned them, and obtained sufficientevidence against them to justify their arrest. But they could notbe convicted at the trial, and had to be released. Justin Chevassat, however, appeared at the assizes. 

"Matters looked very serious for him; but he had the good luck offalling in with a young lawyer who initiated in his case a system ofpleading which has since become very popular. He made no effort toexculpate his client: he boldly accused the banker. 'Was it the act ofa sensible man, ' he said, 'to trust so young a man with such importantsums? Was it not tempting him beyond his powers of resistance, andalmost provoking him to become dishonest? What, this banker neverexamined his books for so many months? What kind of a business was it, where a cashier could so easily take eighty thousand dollars, and remainundiscovered? And then, what immorality in a banker to speculate on'Change, and thus to set so bad an example to his young, inexperiencedclerks!'

"Justin Chevassat escaped with twenty years' penal servitude. 

"What he was at the galleys, you may imagine from what you know of him. He played the 'repentant criminal, ' overflowing with professions ofsorrow for the past, and amendment in future, and cringing and crouchingat the feet of the officials of the prison. He carried on this comedy sosuccessfully, that, after three years and a half, he was pardoned. But he had not lost his time in prison. The contact with the vilestof criminals had sharpened his wits, and completed his education inrascality. He came out of prison an accomplished felon. And even whilehe still dragged the chain and ball along with him, he was alreadyplanning and maturing new plots for the future, which he afterwardsexecuted with success. He conceived the idea of bursting forth in a newshape, under which no one would ever suspect his former identity. 

"How he went about to do this, I am enabled to tell you accurately. Through his godfather, the valet, who had died before his trial, JustinChevassat knew the history of the Brevan family in its minutest details. It was a very sad story. The old marquis had died insolvent, afterhaving lost his five sons, who had gone abroad to make their fortunes. The noble family had thus become extinct; but Justin proposed tocontinue its lineage. He knew that the Brevans were originally fromMaine; that they had formerly owned immense estates in the neighborhoodof Mans; and that they had not been there for more than twenty years. Would they still be remembered in a land where they had once been allpowerful? Most assuredly they would. Would people take the trouble toinquire minutely what had become of the marquis and his five sons? Asassuredly not. 

"Chevassat's plot was based upon these calculations. 

"As soon as he was free once more, he devoted all his energies to thedestruction of every trace of his identity; and, when he thought he hadaccomplished this, he went to Mans, assuming the name of one of the sonsof the marquis, who had been nearly of his own age. No one doubted for amoment that he was Maxime de Brevan. Who could have doubted it, whenhe purchased the old family mansion for a considerable sum, althoughit only consisted of a ruinous castle, and a small farm adjoining thehouse? He paid cash, moreover, proving thus the correctness of themagistrate's suspicions as to his story about losses on 'Change, and asto the complicity of his parents. He even took the precaution ofliving on his little estate for four years, practising the life ofa country-gentleman, received with open arms by the nobility of theneighborhood, forming friendships, gaining supporters, and becoming moreand more identified with Maxime de Brevan. 

"What was his aim at that time? I always thought he was looking outfor a wealthy wife, so as to consolidate his position; and he came nearrealizing his hopes. 

"He was on the point of marrying a young lady from Mans, who would havebrought him half a million in money, and the banns had already beenpublished, when, all of a sudden, the marriage was broken off, no oneknew why. 

"This only is certain: he was so bitterly disappointed by his failure, that he sold his property, and left the country. For the next threeyears, he lived in Paris, more completely Maxime de Brevan than ever;and then he met Sarah Brandon. "

Papa Ravinet had been speaking now for nearly three hours, and he wasbeginning to feel exhausted. He showed his weariness in his face;and his voice very nearly gave out. Still it was in vain for Daniel, Henrietta, and Mrs. Bertolle herself to unite in begging him to go andlie down for a few moments. 

"No, " he replied, "I will go to the end. You do not know how importantit is that M. Champcey should be in a position to act to-morrow, orrather to-day. 

"It was at a fancy ball, " he went on, "given by M. Planix, that SarahBrandon, at that time still known as Ernestine Bergot, and JustinChevassat, now Maxime de Brevan, met for the first time. He wascompletely overpowered by her marvellous beauty, and she--she wasstrangely impressed by the peculiar expression in Maxime's face. Perhapsthey divined each other's character, perhaps they had an intuitiveperception of who they were. At all events, they soon became acquainted, drawn as they were to each other by an instinctive and irresistibleattraction. They danced several times together; they sat side by side;they talked long and intimately; and, when the ball came to an end, theywere friends already. 

"They met frequently; and, if it were not profanation, I would say theyloved each other. They seemed to be made on purpose to understand, and, so to say, compliment, each other, equally corrupt as they were, devoured by the same sinful desires, and alike free from all theold-fashioned prejudices, as they called it, about justice, morals, andhonor. They could hardly help coming soon to some understanding by whichthey agreed to associate their ambitions and their plans for the future. 

"For in those early days, when their feelings were still undented, theyhad no secrets for each other. Love had torn the mask from their faces;and each one vied with the other in letting the foulness of their pastdays be seen clearly. This, no doubt, secured, first the constancy oftheir passion, and the continuation of their intimacy long after theyhad ceased loving each other. 

"For now they hate each other; but they are also afraid of each other. Ten times they have tried to break off their intimacy; and as often theyhave been compelled to renew it, bound as they feel they are to eachother by a chain far more oppressive and solid than the one JustinChevassat wore at the galleys. 

"At first, however, they had to conceal their intimacy; for they had nomoney. By joining what she had stolen from her benefactor, to what shehad obtained from M. Planix, Sarah could not make up more than someforty thousand francs. 'That was not enough, ' she said, 'to "set up" themost modest establishment. ' As to M. De Brevan, however economical hehad been, he had come to an end of the sums stolen from his employer. For eight or ten months now, he had been reduced to all kinds ofdangerous expedients in order to live. He rode in his carriage; buthe had been more than once very happy when he could extort atwenty-franc-piece from his parents. He visited them, of course onlyin secret; for they had in the meantime exchanged their shop, for themodest little box assigned to the concierge of No. 23 Water Street. 

"Far, therefore, from being able to be useful to Sarah, he was perfectlydelighted when she brought him one fine day ten thousand francs toalleviate his distress. 

"'Ah!' she said to him on this occasion, and often thereafter, 'whycan't we have that fool's money?' meaning her friend and lover, M. Planix. 

"The next step was naturally an attempt at obtaining this much covetedtreasure. To begin, Sarah induced him to make a last will, in which hemade her his residuary legatee. One would be at a loss to guess how shecould obtain this from a young, healthy man, full of life and happiness, if it were not that love will explain everything. When this successhad been achieved, M. De Brevan undertook to introduce in thesociety frequented by Sarah and M. Planix one of his friends, who wasconsidered, and who really was, the best swordsman in Paris, a goodfellow otherwise, honor itself, and rather patient in temper than givento quarrelling. 

"Without compromising herself, and with that abominable skill which ispeculiarly her own, Sarah, coquetted just enough with this young man, M. De Font-Avar, to tempt him to pay her some attentions. But thatvery night she complained to M. Planix of his persecution, and knew soskilfully how to excite his jealousy, and to wound his vanity, that, three days later, he allowed himself to be carried away by passion, andstruck M. De Font-Avar in the presence of a dozen friends. 

"A duel became inevitable; and M. De Brevan, pretending to try andreconcile the two young men, secretly fanned the flame. The duel cameoff one Saturday morning, in the woods near Vincennes. They fought withsmall-swords; and, after little more than a minute, M. Planix receiveda stab in his breast, fell, and was dead in an instant. He was not yettwenty-seven years old. 

"Sarah's joy was almost delirious. Accomplished actress as she was, shecould hardly manage to shed a few tears for the benefit of the public, when the body, still warm, was brought to the house. And still she hadonce loved the man, whom she had now assassinated. 

"Even as she knelt by the bedside, hiding her face in her handkerchief, she was thinking only of the testament, lying safe and snug, as sheknew, in one of the drawers of that bureau, enclosed in a large officialenvelope with a huge red wax seal. 

"It was opened and read the same day by the justice of the peace, whohad been sent for to put the seals on the deceased man's property. Andthen Sarah began to cry in good earnest. Her tears were tears of rage. For seized by a kind of remorse, and at a moment when Sarah's absencehad rendered him very angry, M. Planix had added two lines as a codicil. 

"He still said, 'I appoint Miss Ernestine Bergot my residuary legatee';but he had written underneath, 'on condition that she shall pay to eachof my sisters the sum of a hundred and fifty thousand francs. ' This wasmore than three-fourths of his whole fortune. 

"When she arrived, therefore, that night, at Brevan's rooms, her firstwords were, --

"'We have been robbed! Planix was a wretch! We won't have a hundredthousand francs left. '

"Maxime, however, recovered his equanimity pretty soon; for the sumappeared to him quite large enough to pay for a crime in which they hadrun no risk, and he was quite as willing as before to marry Sarah; butshe refused to listen to him, saying that a hundred thousand francs werebarely enough for a year's income, and that they must wait. It was thenthat M. De Brevan became a gambler. The wretch actually believed inthe cards; he believed that fortunes could be made by playing. He hadsystems of his own which could not fail, and which he was bent upontrying. 

"He proposed to Sarah to risk the hundred thousand francs, promisingto make a million out of them; and she yielded, tempted by the veryboldness of his proposition. 

"They resolved they would not stop playing till they had won a million, or lost everything. And so they went to Homburg. There they led amad life for a whole month, spending ten hours every day at thegaming-table, feverish, breathless, fighting the bank with marvellousskill and almost incredible coolness. I have met an old croupier whorecollects them even now. Twice they were on the point of staking theirlast thousand-franc-note; and one lucky day they won as much as fourhundred thousand francs. That day, Maxime proposed they should leaveHomburg. Sarah, who kept the money, refused, repeating her favoritemotto, 'All, or nothing. '

"It was nothing. Victory remained, as usual, with, the 'big battalions;'and one evening the two partners returned to their lodgings, ruined, penniless, having not even a watch left, and owing the hotel-keeper aconsiderable sum of money. 

"That evening Maxime spoke of blowing his brains out. Never, on thecontrary, had Sarah been merrier. 

"The next morning she dressed very early and went out, saying she had aplan in her head, and would soon be back. 

"But she did not come back; and all that day M. De Brevan, devouredby anxiety, waited in vain for her return. At five o'clock, however, amessenger brought him a letter. He opened it; there were three thousandfrancs in it, and these words:--

"'When you receive these lines, I shall be far from Homburg. Do not waitfor me. Enclosed is enough to enable you to return to Paris. You shallsee me again when our fortune is made. 

"'Sarah. '"

"Maxime was at first overcome with amazement. To be abandoned in thisway! To be thus unceremoniously dismissed, and by Sarah! He could notrecover from it. But anger soon roused him to fury; and at the same timehe was filled with an intense desire to avenge himself. But, in order toavenge himself, he must first know how to find his faithless ally. Whathad become of her? Where had she gone?

"By dint of meditating, and recollecting all he could gather in hismemory, M. De Brevan remembered having seen Sarah two or three times, since fortune had forsaken them, in close conversation with a tall, thin gentleman of about forty years, who was in the habit of wanderingthrough the rooms, and attracted much attention by his huge whiskers, his stiff carriage, and his wearied expression. No doubt Sarah, beingruined, had fallen an easy prey to this gentleman, who looked as if hemight be a millionaire. 

"Where did he stay? At the Hotel of the Three Kings. Maxime went thereat once. Unfortunately, he was too late. The gentleman had left thatmorning for Frankfort, by the 10. 45 train, with an elderly lady, and aremarkably pretty girl. 

"Sure of his game now, M. De Brevan left immediately for Frankfort, convinced that Sarah's brilliant beauty would guide him like a star. Buthe hunted in vain all over town, inquiring at the hotels, and botheringeverybody with his questions. He found no trace of the fugitives. 

"When he returned to his lodgings that night, he wept. 

"Never in his life had he fancied himself half so unhappy. In losingSarah, he thought he had lost everything. During the five months oftheir intimacy, she had gained such complete ascendency over him, thatnow, when he was left to his own strength, he felt like a lost child, having no thought and no resolution. 

"What was to become of him, now that this woman was no longer thereto sustain and inspire him, --that woman with the marvellous talent forintrigue, the matchless courage that shrank from nothing, and theenergy which sufficed for everything? Sarah had, besides, filled hisimagination with such magnificent hopes, and opened before his covetouseyes such a vast horizon of enjoyment, that he had come to look uponthings as pitiful, which would formerly have satisfied his highestwishes. Should he, after having dreamed of those glorious achievementsby which millions are won in a day, sink back again into the meannessof petty thefts? His heart turned from that prospect with unspeakableloathing; and yet what was he to do?

"He knew, that, if he returned to Paris, matters would not be verypleasant for him there. His creditors, made restless by his prolongedabsence, would fall upon him instantly. How could he induce them towait? Where could he get the money to pay them, at least, a percentageof his dues? How would he support himself? Were all of his dark works tobe useless? Was he to be shipwrecked before ever seeing even the distantport?

"Nevertheless, he returned to Paris, faced the storm, passed throughthe crisis, and resumed his miserable life, associating with anotheradventurer like himself, and succeeding thus, by immensely hard work, in maintaining his existence and his assumed name. Ah! if our honestfriends could but know what misery, what humiliations and anxieties arehid beneath that false splendor of high life, which they often envy, they would think themselves fully avenged. 

"It is certain that Maxime de Brevan found times hard in those days, and actually more than once regretted that he had not remained a stupid, honest man. He thought that was so simple, and so clever. 

"Thus it came about, that, two years later, he had not yet beenreconciled to Sarah's absence. Often and often, in his hours ofdistress, he recalled her parting promise, 'You shall see me againwhen our fortune is made. ' He knew she was quite capable of amassingmillions; but, when she had them, would she still think of him? Wherewas she? What could have become of her?

"Sarah was at that time in America. 

"That tall, light-haired gentleman, that eminently respectable lady, whohad carried her off, were M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Who were thesepeople? I have had no time to trace out their antecedents. All I knowis, that they belonged to that class of adventurers whom one sees atall the watering-places and gambling-resorts, --at Nice, at Monaco, andduring the winter in Italy; swindlers of the highest class, who uniteconsummate skill with excessive caution; who are occasionally suspected, but never found out; and who are frequently indebted to their artof making themselves agreeable, and even useful to others, to thecarelessness of travellers, and their thorough knowledge of life, forthe acquaintance, or even friendship, of people whom one is astonishedto find in such company. 

"Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian were both English, and, so far, they hadmanaged to live very pleasantly. But old age was approaching; and theybegan to be fearful about the future, when they fell in with Sarah. Theydivined her, as she had divined Maxime; and they saw in her an admirablemeans to secure a fortune. They did not hesitate, therefore, to offerher a compact by which she was to be a full partner, although theythemselves had to risk all they possessed, --a capital of some twentythousand dollars. You have seen what these respectable people proposedto make of her, --a snare and a pitfall. They knew very well that hermatchless beauty would catch fools innumerable, and bring in a richharvest of thousand-franc-notes. 

"The idea was by no means new, M. Champcey, as you seem to think; nor isthe case a rare one. 

"In almost all the capitals of Europe, you will find even now some ofthese almost sublimely beautiful creatures, who are exhibited inthe great world by cosmopolitan adventurers. They have six or sevenyears, --eighteen to twenty-five, --during which, their beauty and theirtact may secure an immense fortune to themselves and their comrades; andaccording to chance, to their skill, or the whims or the folly of men, they end by marrying some great personage in high life, or by keepinga wretched gambling hell in the suburbs. They may fall upon the velvetcushions of a princely carriage, or sink, step by step, to the lowestdepths of society. 

"M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian had agreed that they would exhibit Sarah inParis; that she was to marry a duke with any number of millions; andthat they should be paid for their trouble by receiving an annualallowance of some ten thousand dollars. But, in order to undertake theadventure with a good chance of success, it was indispensable that Sarahshould lose her nationality as a Parisian; that she should rise anew, asan unknown star; and, above all, that she should be trained and schooledfor the profession she was to practise. 

"Hence the trip to America, and her long residence there. 

"Chance had helped the wretches. They had hardly landed, when theyfound that they could easily introduce the girl as the daughter ofGen. Brandon, just as Justin Chevassat had managed to become Maximede Brevan. In this way, Ernestine Bergot appeared at once in the bestsociety of Philadelphia as Sarah Brandon. Not less prudent than Maxime, M. Elgin also purchased, in spite of his limited means, for a thousanddollars, vast tracts of land in the western part of the State, wherethere was no trace of oil-wells, but where there might very well be agood many, and had them entered upon the name of his ward. 

"Of all these measures, I have the evidence in hand, and can produce itat any moment. "

For some time already, Daniel and Henrietta had looked at each otherwith utter amazement. They were almost dumfounded by the prodigioussagacity, the cunning, patience, and labor which the old dealermust have employed to collect this vast mass of information. But hecontinued, after a short pause, --

"Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian found out in a few days how well they hadbeen served by their instincts in taking hold of Sarah. In less than sixmonths, this wonderful girl, whose education they had undertaken, spokeEnglish as well as they did, and had become their master, controllingthem by the very superiority of her wickedness. From the day on whichMrs. Brian explained to her the part she was expected to play, shehad assumed it so naturally and so perfectly, that all traces of artdisappeared at once. She had instinctively appreciated the immenseadvantage she would derive from personifying a young American girl, and the irresistible effect she might easily produce by her freedom ofmovement and her bold ingenuousness. Finally, at the end of eighteenmonths' residence in America, M. Elgin declared that the moment had comewhen Sarah might appear on the stage. 

"It was, therefore, twenty-eight months after their parting in Homburg, that M. De Brevan received, one morning, the following note:--

"'Come to-night, at nine o'clock, to M. Thomas Elgin's house in CircusStreet, and be prepared for a surprise. '

"He went there. A tall man opened the door of the sitting-room; and, at the sight of a young lady who sat before the fire, he could not helpexclaiming, 'Ernestine, is that you?'

"But she interrupted him at once, saying, 'You are mistaken: ErnestineBergot is dead, and buried by the side of Justin Chevassat, my dearM. De Brevan. Come, lay aside that amazed air, and kiss Miss SarahBrandon's hand. '

"It was heaven opening for Maxime. She had at last come back tohim, --this woman, who had come across his life like a tempest, and whosememory he had retained in his heart, as a dagger remains in the wound ithas made. She had come back, more beautiful than ever, irresistible inher matchless charms; and he fancied it was love which had brought herback. 

"His vanity led him astray. Sarah Brandon had long since ceased toadmire him. Familiar as she was with the life of adventurers in highlife, she had soon learned to appreciate M. De Brevan at his just value. She saw him now as he really was, --timid, overcautious, petty, incapableof conceiving bold combinations, scarcely good enough for the smallestof plots, ridiculous, in fine, as all needy scamps are. 

"Nevertheless, Sarah wanted him, although she despised him. On the pointof entering upon a most dangerous game, she felt the necessity of havingone accomplice, at least, in whom she could trust blindly. She had, tobe sure, Mrs. Brian and Sir Thorn, as he began to be called now; butshe mistrusted them. They held her, and she had no hold on them. Onthe other hand, Maxime de Brevan was entirely hers, dependent on herpleasure, as the lump of clay in the hands of the sculptor. 

"It is true that Maxime appeared almost distressed when he heard thatthat immense fortune which he coveted with all his might was still to bemade, and that Sarah was no farther advanced now than she was on the dayof their separation. She might even have said that she was less so; forthe two years and more which had just elapsed had made a large inroadupon the savings of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. When they had paid fortheir establishment in Circus Street, when they had advanced the hireof a _coupe_, a landau, and two saddle-horses, they had hardly fourthousand dollars left in all. 

"They knew, therefore, that they must succeed or sink in the comingyear. And, thus driven to bay, they were doubly to be feared. They weredetermined to fall furiously upon the first victim that should passwithin reach, when chance brought to them the unlucky cashier of theMutual Discount Society, Malgat. "

XXXI. 

For a few moments the fatigue of the old dealer seemed to havedisappeared. He was sitting up straight, with tremulous lips, withflashing eyes, and continued in a strangely strident voice, --

"Fools alone attach no weight to trifling occurrences. And still itis those that appear most insignificant which we ought to fear most, because they alone determine our fate, precisely as an atom of sanddismembers the most powerful engine. 

"It was on a fine afternoon in the month of October when Sarah Brandonappeared for the first time before the eyes of Malgat. He was at thattime a man of forty, sprung from an old and respectable though modestfamily, content with his lot in life, and rather simple, as most menare who have always lived far from the intrigues of society. He hadone passion, however, --he filled the five rooms of his lodgingswith curiosities of every kind, happy for a week to come, if he haddiscovered a piece of old china, or a curious piece of furniture, whichhe could purchase cheap. He was not rich, his whole patrimony havingbeen long since spent on his collections; but he had a place thatbrought him some three thousand dollars; and he was sure of an amplepension in his old age. 

"He was honest in the highest sense of the word; his honesty beinginstinctive, so to say, never reasoning, never hesitating. For fifteenyears now, he had been cashier; and hundreds of millions had passedthrough his hands without arousing in him a shadow of covetousness. Hehandled the gold in the bags, and the notes in the portfolios, withas much indifference as if they had been pebbles and dry leaves. Hisemployers, besides, felt for him more than ordinary esteem: it was trueand devoted friendship. Their confidence in him was so great, that theywould have laughed in the face of any one who should have come and toldthem, 'Malgat is a thief!'

"Such he was, when, that morning, he was standing near his safe, and sawa gentleman come to his window who had just cashed a check drawn bythe Central Bank of Philadelphia upon the Mutual Discount Bank. Thisgentleman, who was M. Elgin, spoke such imperfect French, that Malgatasked him, for convenience sake, to step inside the railing. He came in, and behind him Sarah Brandon. 

"How can I describe to you the sensations of the poor cashier as hebeheld this amazing beauty! He could hardly stammer out a few incoherentwords; and the gentleman and the young lady had long since left, whenhe was still lost in a kind of idiotic delight. He had been overtaken byone of those overwhelming passions which sometimes felled to the groundthe strongest and simplest of men at the age of forty. 

"Alas! Sarah had but too keenly noticed the impression she had produced. To be sure, Malgat was very far from that ideal of a millionaire husbandof whom these adventurers dreamed; but, after all, he held the keys ofa safe in which lay millions. One might always get something out of himwherewith to wait for better things to come. Their plan was soon formed. 

"The very next day M. Elgin presented himself alone at the office to askfor some information. He returned three days after with another draft. By the end of the week, he had furnished Malgat with an opportunity torender him some trifling service. Thus relations began to existbetween them; and, at the end of a fortnight, Sir Thorn could, with allpropriety, ask the cashier to dine with him in Circus Street. A voicefrom within--one of those presentiments to which we ought always tolisten--warned Malgat not to accept the invitation; but he was alreadyno longer his own master. 

"He went to dinner in Circus Street, and he left it madly in love. 

"He had felt as if Sarah Brandon's eyes had been all the time uponhim, --those strange, sublimely beautiful eyes, which upset our verybeing within us, weakening the most powerful energy, troubling thesenses, and leading reason astray--eyes which dazzle, enchant, andbewitch. 

"The commonest politeness required that Malgat should call upon Mrs. Brian and M. Elgin. This call was followed by many others. A man lessblinded by passion might have become suspicious at the eagerness withwhich these wretches, driven by necessity, carried on their intrigue. Six weeks after their first meeting, Malgat fancied that Sarah waswildly in love with him. It was absurd, most assuredly; it was foolish, insane. Nevertheless, he believed it. He thought those rapturous glanceswere genuine; he believed in the truthfulness of that intoxicatingsweetness of her voice, and those enchanting blushes, which his comingnever failed to call forth. 

"Now began the second act of the hideous comedy. Mrs. Brian appeared oneday, all of a sudden, to notice something, and promptly requested Malgatnever to put foot again within that house. She accused him of an attemptto seduce Sarah Brandon. I dare say, you can imagine, the fool! how heprotested, affirming the purity of his intentions, and swearing that hewould be the happiest of mortals if they would condescend to grant himthe hand of her niece. But Sir Thorn, in the haughtiest tone possible, asked him how he could dare think of such a thing, and presume thathe could ever be a fit match for a young lady who had a dower of twohundred thousand dollars. 

"Malgat left with tottering steps, despair in his heart, and resolved tokill himself. When he returned home, he actually went to look among hiscuriosities for an old flint-lock pistol, and began to load it. 

"Ah! why did he not kill himself then? He would have carried hisdeceptive illusions and his unstained honor with him to the grave. 

"He was just about to make his will when they brought him a letter fromSarah. She wrote thus:--

"'When a girl like myself loves, she loves for life, and she is hiswhom she loves, or she is nobody's. If your love is true, if dangers anddifficulties terrify you no more than they terrify me, knock to-morrownight, at ten o'clock, at the gate of the court. I will open. '

"Mad with joy and hope, Malgat went to the fatal meeting. Do you knowwhat happened? Sarah fell around his neck, and said, --

"'I love you. Let us run away. '

"Ah! if he had taken her at her word, and answered her, offering her hisarm, --

"'Yes, let us flee, ' the plot might have been defeated, and he mighthave been saved; for she would certainly not have gone with him. 

"But with that clear perception which was a perfect marvel in her, andlooked like the gift of second sight, she had taken the measure of thecashier, and exposed herself to the danger, well-knowing that he wouldshrink from doing what she asked. 

"He did shrink, the idiot! he was afraid. He said to himself that itwould be a mean thing to abuse the attachment of this pure and trustfulgirl, to separate her from her family, and to ruin her forever. 

"He did have this wonderful power of self-denial to dissuade her fromtaking such a step, and to induce her to be patient, giving time anopportunity of coming to their assistance, while he would do all hecould to overcome the obstacles in the way. 

"For hours after he had left Sarah Brandon, Malgat had not recoveredfrom the excitement; and he would have thought the whole a dream, butfor the penetrating perfume which his clothes still retained where shehad rested her beautiful head. But, when he at last began to examinehis position, he came to the conclusion that he had indulged in childishillusions, and that he could never hope to satisfy the demands made byM. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. There _was_ but one way, a single way, bywhich he could ever hope to obtain possession of this woman whomhe worshipped; and that was the one she had herself proposed, --anabduction. To determine upon such a step, however, was for Malgat to endhis peaceful life forever, to lose his place, to abandon the past, andto venture upon an unknown future. But how could he reason at a momentwhen his whole mind was filled with thoughts of the most amazinghappiness that ever was enjoyed by mortal being?

"Whenever he thought of flight, there arose before him one obstaclewhich he could not overcome. He had no money. How could he expose thisrich heiress, who left all for his sake, this beautiful girl, who wasaccustomed to every imaginable luxury, to want and humiliation? No; thathe could never dare. And yet his whole available capital did not amountto three thousand dollars. His fortune was invested in those curiositiesthat were piled up all over his rooms, --beautiful objects to his eyesin former days, but now hateful, and annoying to behold. He knewthey represented a large sum, quite a respectable fortune; but suchcollections cannot be sold overnight; and time was pressing. 

"He had seen Sarah several times secretly; and each time she hadappeared to him more mournful and dejected. She could bring him nothingbut most distressing news. Mrs. Brian spoke of giving her in marriage toa friend of hers. M. Elgin proposed to take her abroad. And, with suchtroubles filling his head, the poor cashier had to attend to hisdaily duties, and from morning till night receive tens and hundreds ofthousands; and never yet, I swear it, the thought occurred to him oftaking a small fraction of these treasures. 

"He had determined to sell all his collections as a whole, at any pricehe could get, when one day, a few moments before the office closed, alady appeared, whose ample dress concealed her figure, while a thickveil completely shrouded her features. 

"This lady raised her veil. It was she. It was Sarah Brandon. 

"Malgat begged her to enter. He was overcome. What new misfortune hadhappened to induce her to take such a step? She told him in a few words. 

"Sir Thorn had found out their secret meetings: he had told her to beready to start for Philadelphia the next morning. 

"The crisis had come. They must choose now between two things, --eitherto flee that very day, or be separated forever. 

"Ah! never had Sarah been so beautiful as at this moment, when sheseemed to be maddened by grief; never had her whole personal beautyexhaled such powerful, such irresistible charms. Her breath went andcame, causing her almost to sob at every respiration; and big tears, like scattered beads from a chaplet of pearls, rolled down her palecheeks. 

"Malgat stood a moment before her, stunned by the blow; and theimminence of the danger extorted from him a confession of the reasonsthat had made him hesitate so long. He told her, cruelly humiliated bythe avowal, that he had no money. 

"But she rose when she heard it, as if she had been stung by an insult, and repeated with crushing irony, --

"'No money? No money?'

"And when Malgat, more heartily ashamed of his poverty than he couldhave been of a crime, blushed to the roots of his hair, she pointed atthe immense safe, which overflowed with gold and bank-notes, and said, --

"'And what is all that?'

"Malgat jumped up, and stood before the safe, his arms far outstretched, as if to defend it, and said in an accent of ineffable terror, --

"'What are you thinking of? And my honor?'

"This was to be his last effort to preserve his honor. Sarah looked himstraight in the face, and said slowly, --

"'And my honor! My honor is nothing to you? Do I not give myself? Do youmean to drive a bargain?'

"Great God! She said this with an accent and with a look which wouldhave tempted an angel. Malgat fell helpless into a chair. 

"Then she came close up to him, and, casting upon him those burningglances which blazed with superhuman audacity, she sighed, --

"'If you loved me really! Ah, if you really loved me!'

"And she bent over him, tremulous with passion, watching his features soclosely, that their lips nearly touched. 

"'If you loved me as I love you, ' she whispered again. 

"It was all over; Malgat was lost. He drew Sarah towards him, and said, kissing her, --

"'Very well then. Yes!'

"She immediately disengaged herself, and with eager hands seized oneparcel of bank-notes after another, pushing them into a little moroccobag which she held in her hand. And, when the bag was full, she said, --

"'Now we are safe. To-night at ten o'clock, at the gate of the court-yard, with a carriage. To-morrow, at daybreak, we shall be out ofFrance, and free. Now we are bound to each other forever, --and I loveyou!'

"And she went away. And he let her go away. "

The old gentleman had become ghastly white, his few hairs seemed tostand on end, and large drops of perspiration inundated his face as heswallowed at a gulp a cup of tea, and then went on, laughing bitterly, --

"You suppose, no doubt, that, _when_ Sarah had left him, Malgat came tohimself? By no means. It seemed as if, with that kiss, with which shehad paid him for his crime, the infamous creature had inspired him withthe same genius for evil that was in her. 

"Far from repenting, he rejoiced at what had been done; and when helearned, that, on the following day, the board of directors were to meetto examine the books, he laughed at the faces they would make; forI told you he was mad. With all the coolness of a hardened thief, hecalculated the total amount of what had been abstracted: it was fourhundred thousand francs. Immediately, in order to conceal the true stateof things, he took his books, and, with almost diabolic skill, alteredthe figures, and changed the entries, so as to make it appear that thedefalcation was of long date, and that various sums had been abstractedfor several months. When he had finished his fearful task, he wrote tothe board a hypocritical letter, in which he stated that he had robbedthe safe in order to pay his differences on 'Change, and that now, whenhe could no longer conceal his crime, he was going to commit suicide. When this was done, he left his office, as if nothing had happened. 

"The proof that he acted under the incomprehensible influence of a kindof hallucination is this, that he felt neither remorse nor fear. As hewas resolved not to return to his house, nor to encumber himself withluggage, he dined at a restaurant, spent a few minutes at a theatre, andthen posted his letter to the board of directors, so that it might reachthem early in the morning. 

"At ten o'clock he knocked at the gate of the house in Circus Street. Aservant came and opened, saying in a mysterious manner, --

"'Please go up. The young lady is waiting. '

"A terrible presentiment seized him at that moment, and chilled him tothe marrow in his bones. In the parlor Sarah was sitting on a sofa, andMaxime de Brevan by her side. They were laughing so loud, that he heardthem in the anteroom. When Malgat entered, she raised her head with adissatisfied air, and said rudely, --

"'Ah! It is you. What do you want now?'

"Surely, such a reception ought to have disabused the unfortunate man. But no! When he began to stammer some explanations, she interrupted him, saying, --

"'Let us speak frankly. You come to run away with me, don't you? Well, that is simply nonsense. Look at yourself, my good friend, and tell meif a girl such as I am can be in love with a man like you. As to thatsmall loan, it does not pay me, I assure you, by half, for the sublimelittle comedy which I have had to play. Believe me, at all events, whenI tell you that I have taken all my precautions so as not to be troubledby anything you may say or do. And now, sir, I wish you good-evening;or must I go?'

"Ah! she might have spoken a long time yet, and Malgat would not havethought of interrupting her. The fearful truth broke all of a suddenupon him; and he felt as if the whole world were going to pieces. He understood the enormity of the crime; he discerned the fatalconsequences, and knew he was ruined. A thousand voices arose from hisconscience, telling him, 'You are a thief! You are a forger! You aredishonored!'

"But, when he saw Sarah Brandon get up to leave the room, he was seizedwith an attack of furious rage, and threw himself upon her, crying, --

"'Yes, I am lost; but you shall die, Sarah Brandon!'

"Poor fool! who did not know that these wretches had, of course, foreseen his wrath, and prepared for the emergency. Supple, like one ofthose lost children of the gutter among whom she had lived once upon atime, Sarah Brandon escaped from Malgat's grasp, and by a clever trickthrew him upon an arm-chair. Before he could rise again, he was heldfast by Maxime de Brevan, and by M. Elgin, who had heard the noise, andrushed in from the adjoining room. 

"The poor man did not attempt to resist. Why should he? Within him, moreover, a faint hope began to rise. It seemed to him impossible thatsuch a monstrous wrong could be carried out, and that he would have onlyto proclaim the wickedness of these wretches to have them in his power. 

"'Let me go!' he said. 'I must go!'

"But they did not allow him to go as yet. They guessed what was going onin his mind. Sir Thorn asked him coolly, --

"'Where do you think of going? Do you mean to denounce us? Have a care!You would only sacrifice yourself, without doing us any harm. If youthink you can use Sarah's letter, in which she appoints a meeting, as aweapon against us, you are mistaken. She did not write that letter; and, moreover, she can prove an alibi. You see we have prepared everythingfor this business during the last three months; and nothing has beenleft to chance. Do not forget that I have commissioned you twenty timesto buy or sell for me on 'Change, and that it was always done in yourname, at my request. How can you say you did not speculate on 'Change?'

"The poor cashier's heart sank within him. Had he not himself, forfear lest a suspicion should fall upon Sarah Brandon, told the boardof directors in his letter that he had been tempted by unluckyspeculations? Had he not altered the entries in the books in order toprove this assertion? Would they believe him if he were to tell thetruth? Whom could he ever hope to persuade that what was probable wasfalse, and that the improbable was true? Sir Thorn continued with hishorrid sneers, --

"'Have you forgotten the letters which you wrote me for the purpose ofborrowing money from me, and in which you confess your defalcations?Here they are. You can read them. '

"These letters, M. Champcey, are those which Sarah showed you; andMalgat was frightened out of his senses. He had never written suchletters; and yet there was his handwriting, imitated with such amazingperfection, that he began to doubt his own senses and his own reason. Heonly saw clearly that no one would look upon them as forgeries. 

"Ah! Maxime de Brevan is an artist. His letter to the navy departmenthas, no doubt, proved it to you. 

"Seeing Malgat thus stupefied, Sarah took the word, and said, --

"'Look here, my dear; I'll give you some advice. Here are ten thousandfrancs: take them, and run for your life. It is time yet to take thetrain for Brussels. '

"But he rose, and said, --

"'No! There is nothing left for me but to die. May my blood come uponyou!'

"And he rushed out, pursued by the insulting laugh of the wretches. "

Amazed at the inconceivable boldness of this atrocious plot, Daniel andHenrietta were shuddering with horror. As to Mrs. Bertolle, she had sunkinto a chair, trembling in all her limbs. The old gentleman, however, continued with evident haste, --

"Whether Malgat did, or did not, commit suicide, he was never heard ofagain. The trial came on, and he was condemned _in contumaciam_ to tenyears' penal servitude. Sarah, also, was examined by a magistrate; butshe made it a success. 

"And that was all. And this crime, one of the most atrocious everconceived by human wickedness, went to swell the long list of unpunishedoutrages. The robbers triumphed impudently in broad daylight. They hadfour hundred thousand francs. They could retire from business. 

"No, indeed! Twenty thousand francs a year was far too little for theirimmoderate desires! They accepted this fortune as an installment onaccount on the future, and used it to wait patiently for new victims tobe stripped. 

"Unfortunately, such victims would not show themselves. The house wasmounted upon a most expensive footing. M. De Brevan had, of course, claimed his share; Sir Thorn was a gambler; Sarah loved diamonds; andgrim Mrs. Brian had her own vices. In short, the hour came when dangerwas approaching; but, just at that moment, Sarah, looking around, metwith the unlucky victim she needed. 

"This one was a handsome young man, almost a child yet, kind, generous, and chivalrous. He was an orphan, and came up from his province, hisheart full of illusions, and in his pockets his entire fortune, --a sumof five hundred thousand francs. His name was Charles de Kergrist. 

"Maxime managed to bring him to the house in Circus Street. He sawSarah, and was dazzled. He loved her, and was lost. 

"Ah! The poor fellow did not last long. At the end of five months, hishalf million was in the hands of Sarah. And, when he had not a centleft, she well-nigh forced him to write her three forged drafts, swearing, that, on the day on which they became due, she would take themup herself. But when the day came, and he called in Circus Street, hewas received as Malgat had been received. They told him that the forgeryhad been discovered: that suit had been brought; that he was ruined. They offered him, also, money to flee. 

"Poor Kergrist! They had not miscalculated. Descended from a family inwhich a keen sense of honor had been hereditary for many generations, he did not hesitate. As soon as he left the house, he hanged himself onSarah's window, thinking that he would thus hold up to public censurethe infamous creature who had led him to commit a crime. 

"Poor child! They had deceived him. He was not ruined. The forgery hadnever been discovered; the drafts had never been used at all. A carefulinvestigation revealed nothing against Sarah Brandon; but the scandalsof the suicide diminished her prestige. She felt it; and, giving up herdreams of greatness, she thought of marrying a fool who was immenselywealthy, M. Wilkie Gordon, when Sir Thorn spoke to her of CountVille-Handry. 

"In fortune, name, and age, the count was exactly what Sarah had dreamedof so often. She threw herself upon him. 

"How the old gentleman was drawn to Circus Street; how he wassurrounded, insnared, intoxicated, and finally made a husband--all thatyou know but too well, M. Champcey. But what you do not know is the factthat this marriage brought discord into the camp. M. De Brevan would nothear of it; and it was the hope he had of breaking it up, which madehim speak to you so frankly of Sarah Brandon. When you went to askhis advice, he was on bad terms with her: she had turned him off, andrefused to pay him any money. And he was so mortally offended, that hewould have betrayed her to the courts even, if he had known how to do itwithout inculpating himself. 

"You were the very person to reconcile them again, inasmuch as you gaveMaxime an opportunity of rendering Sarah Brandon a great service. 

"He did not then anticipate that she would ever fall in love withyou, and that she, in her turn, would have to succumb to one of thosedesperate passions which she had so often kindled in others, and usedfor her own advantage. This discovery made him furious; and Sarah'slove, and Maxime's rage, will explain to you the double plot bywhich you were victimized. Sarah, who loved you, wanted to get rid ofHenrietta, who was your betrothed: Maxime, stung by jealousy, wanted youto die. "

Visibly overcome by fatigue, Papa Ravinet fell back in his chair, andremained silent for more than five minutes. Then he seemed to make onemore effort, and went on, --

"Now, let us sum up the whole. I know how Sarah, Sir Thorn, and Mrs. Brian have gone to work to rob Count Ville-Handry, and to ruin him. Iknow what they have done with the millions which they report were lostin speculations; and I have the evidence in my hand. Therefore, I canruin them, without reference to their other crimes. Crochard's affidavitalone suffices to ruin M. De Brevan. The two Chevassats, husband andwife, have caught themselves by keeping the four thousand francs yousent to Miss Henrietta. We have them safe, the wretches! The hour ofvengeance has come at last. "

Henrietta did not let him conclude: she interrupted him, saying, --

"And my father, sir, my father?"

"M. Champcey will save him, madam. "

Daniel had risen, deeply moved, and now asked, --

"What am I to do?"

"You must call on the Countess Sarah, and look as if you had forgottenall that has happened, --as far as she is concerned, Miss Henrietta. "

The young officer blushed all over, and stammered painfully, --

"Ah, I cannot play that part! I would not be able. "

But Henrietta stopped him. Laying her hand on his shoulder, and lookingdeep into the eyes of her betrothed, as if to search the very depths ofhis conscience, she said, --

"Have you reasons for hesitating?"

He hung his head, and said, --

"I shall go. "

XXXII. 

It struck two when Daniel jumped out of a carriage before No. 79 inPeletier Street, where the offices of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Companywere now, and where Count Ville-Handry lived at present. 

Never in his life had he felt so embarrassed, or so dissatisfied withhimself. In vain had Papa Ravinet and Mrs. Bertolle brought up allpossible arguments to convince him, that, with a woman like SarahBrandon, all reprisals were fair; he would not be convinced. 

Unfortunately, he could not refuse to go without risking the peace ofhis Henrietta, her confidence, and her whole happiness; so he went asbravely as he could. 

A clerk whom he asked told him that the president was in his rooms, --inthe third story on the left. He went up. The maid who came to open thedoor recognized him. It was the same Clarissa who had betrayed him. When he asked for the count she invited him in. She took him throughan anteroom, dark, and fragrant with odors from the kitchen; and then, opening a door, she said;--

"Please walk in!"

Before an immense table, covered with papers, sat Count Ville-Handry. He had grown sadly old. His lower lip hung down, giving him a painfulexpression of weakness of mind; and his watery eyes looked almostsenile. Still his efforts to look young had not been abandoned. He wasrouged and dyed as carefully as ever. When he recognized Daniel, hepushed back his papers; and offering him his hand, as if they had partedthe day before, he said, --

"Ah, here you are back again among us! Upon my word, I am very glad tosee you! We know what you have been doing out there; for my wife sent meagain and again to the navy department to see if there were any news ofyou. And you have become an officer of the Legion of Honor! You ought tobe pleased. "

"Fortune has favored, me, count. "

"Alas! I am sorry I cannot say as much for myself, " replied the latterwith a sigh. 

"You must be surprised, " he continued, "to find me living in such adog's kennel, I who formerly--But so it goes. 'The ups and downs ofspeculations, ' says Sir Thorn. Look here, my dear Daniel, let me giveyou a piece of advice: never speculate in industrial enterprises!Nowadays it is mere gambling, furious gambling; and everybody cheats. Ifyou stake a dollar, you are in for everything. That is my story, and Ithought I would enrich my country by a new source of revenue. From thefirst day on which I emitted shares, speculators have gotten hold ofthem, and have crushed me, till my whole fortune has been spent inuseless efforts to keep them up. And yet Sir Thorn says I have fought asbravely on this slippery ground as my ancestors did in the lists. "

Every now and then the poor old man passed his hand over his face asif trying to drive away painful thoughts; and then he went on in adifferent tone of voice, --

"And yet I am far from complaining. My misfortunes have been the sourceof the purest and highest happiness for me. It is to them I owe theknowledge of the boundless devotion of a beloved wife; they have taughtme how dearly Sarah loves me. I alone can tell what treasures are hidin that angelic heart, which they dared to calumniate. Ah! I think I canhear her now, when I told her one evening how embarrassed I had becomein my finances. 

"'To have concealed that from me!' she exclaimed, --'from me, your wife:that was wrong!' And the very next day she showed her sublime courage. She sold her diamonds to bring me the proceeds, and gave up to me herwhole fortune. And, since we are living here, she goes out on foot, likea simple citizen's wife; and more than once I have caught her preparingour modest meals with her own hands. "

Tears were flowing down the furrowed cheeks, leaving ghastly lines onthe rouged and whitened surface. 

"And I, " he resumed in an accent of deepest despair, --"I could notreward her for such love and so many sacrifices. How did I compensateher for being my only consolation, my joy, my sole happiness in life! Iruined her; I impoverished her! If I were to die to-morrow, she would bepenniless. "

Daniel trembled. 

"Ah, count, " he exclaimed, "don't speak of dying! People like you live ahundred years. "

But the old man lowered his voice, and said, --

"You see, I have not told you all yet. But you are my friend; and I knowI can open my heart to you. _I_ did not have the--the--cleverness toovercome all the restrictions which hamper this kind of business. I wasimprudent, in spite of all Sir Thorn's warnings. To-morrow there will bea meeting of the stockholders; and, if they do not grant me what I shallhave to ask of them, I may be in trouble. And, when a man calls himselfCount Ville-Handry, rather than appear in a police-court--you know whatI mean!"

He was interrupted by one of the clerks, who brought him a letter. Heread it, and said, --

"Tell them I am coming. "

Then, turning again to Daniel, he added, --

"I must leave you; but the countess is at home, and she would neverforgive me if I did not take you in to present your respects to her. Come! But be careful and don't say a word of my troubles. It would killher. "

And, before Daniel could recover from his bewilderment, the count hadopened a door, and pushed him into the room, saying, --

"Sarah, M. Champcey. "

Sarah started up as if she had received an electric shock. Her husbandhad left them; but, even if he had been still in the room, she wouldprobably not have been any more able to control herself. 

"You!" she cried, "Daniel, my Daniel!"

And turning to Mrs. Brian, who was sitting by the window, she said, --

"Leave us. "

"Your conduct is perfectly shocking, Sarah!" began the grim lady. ButSarah, as harshly as if she had been speaking to a servant, cut hershort, saying, --

"You are in the way, and I beg you will leave the room. "

Mrs. Brian did so without saying a word; and the countess sank into anarm-chair, as if overcome by a sudden good fortune which she was notable to endure, looking intensely at Daniel, who stood in the centre ofthe room like a statue. 

She had on a simple black merino dress; she wore no jewelry; but hermarvellous, fatal beauty seemed to be all the more dazzling. The yearshad passed over her without leaving any more traces on her than thespring breeze leaves on a half-opened rose. Her hair still shone withits golden flashes; her rosy lips smiled sweetly; and her velvet eyescaressed you still, till hot fire seemed to run in your veins. 

Once before Daniel had been thus alone with her; and, as the sensationshe then felt rose in his mind, he began to tremble violently. Then, thinking of his purpose in coming here, and the treacherous part he wasabout to act, he felt a desire to escape. 

It was she who broke the charm. She began, saying, --

"You know, I presume, the misfortunes that have befallen us. Yourbetrothed, Henrietta? Has the count told you?"

Daniel had taken a chair. He replied, --

"The count has said nothing about his daughter. "

"Well, then, my saddest presentiments have been fulfilled. Unhappy girl!I did what I could to keep her in the right way. But she fell, step bystep, and finally so low, that one day, when a ray of sense fell uponher mind, she went and killed herself. "

It was done. Sarah had overcome the last hesitation which Daniel stillfelt. Now he was in the right temper to meet cunning with cunning. Heanswered in an admirably-feigned tone of indifference, --

"Ah!"

Then, encouraged by the joyous surprise he read in Sarah's face, he wenton, --

"This expedition has cost me dear. Count Ville-Handry has just informedme that he has lost his whole fortune. I am in the same category. "

"What! You are"--

"Ruined. Yes; that is to say, I have been robbed, --robbed of every centI ever had. On the eve of my departure, I intrusted a hundred thousanddollars, all I ever possessed, to M. De Brevan, with orders to holdit at Miss Henrietta's disposal. He found it easier to appropriate thewhole to himself. So, you see, I am reduced to my pittance of pay as alieutenant. That is not much. "

Sarah looked at Daniel with perfect amazement. In any other man, thisprodigious confidence in a friend would have appeared to her the extremeof human folly; in Daniel, she thought it was sublime. 

"Is that the reason why they have arrested M. De Brevan?" she asked. 

Daniel had not heard of his arrest. 

"What!" he said. "Maxime"--

"Was arrested last night, and is kept in close confinement. "

However well prepared Daniel was by Papa Ravinet's account, he couldnever have hoped to manage the conversation as well as chance did. Hereplied, --

"It cannot be for having robbed me. M. De Brevan must have been arrestedfor having attempted to murder me. "

The lioness who has just been robbed of her whelps does not rise withgreater fury in her eyes than Sarah did when she heard these words. 

"What!" she cried aloud. "He has dared touch you!"

"Not personally; oh, no! But he hired for the base purpose a wretchedfelon, who was caught, and has confessed everything. I see that theorder to apprehend my friend Maxime must have reached here before me, although it left Saigon some time later than I did. "

Might not M. De Brevan be as cowardly as Crochard when he saw that allwas lost? This idea, one would think, would have made Sarah tremble. Butit never occurred to her. 

"Ah, the wretch!" she repeated. "The scoundrel, the rascal!"

And, sitting down by Daniel, she asked him to tell her all the detailsof these attempted assassinations, from which he had escaped only by amiracle. 

The Countess Sarah, in fact, never doubted for a moment but that Danielwas as madly in love with her as Planix, as Malgat, and Kergrist, andall the others, had been, she had become so accustomed to find herbeauty irresistible and all powerful. How could it ever have occurred toher, that this man, the very first whom she loved sincerely, should alsobe the first and the only one to escape from her snares? She was takenin, besides, by the double mirage of love and of absence. 

During the last two years she had so often evoked the image of Daniel, she had so constantly lived with him in her thoughts, that she mistookthe illusion of her desires for the reality, and was no longer able todistinguish between the phantom of her dreams and the real person. 

In the meantime he entertained her by describing to her his actualposition, lamenting over the treachery by which he had been ruined, andadding how hard he would find it at thirty to begin the world anew. 

And she, generally, so clearsighted, was not surprised to find thatthis man, who had been disinterestedness itself, should all of a suddendeplore his losses so bitterly, and value money so highly. 

"Why do you not marry a rich woman?" she suddenly asked him. 

He replied with a perfection of affected candor which he would not havesuspected to be in his power the day before, --

"What? Do you--you, Sarah--give me such advice?"

He said it so naturally, and with such an air of aggrieved surprise, that she was delighted and carried away by it, as if he had made her themost passionate avowal. 

"You love me? Do you really, really love me?"

The sound of a key turning in the door interrupted them. 

And in an undertone, speaking passionately, she said, --

"Go now! You shall know by to-morrow who she is whom I have chosen foryou. Come and breakfast with us at eleven o'clock. Go now. "

And, kissing him on his lips till they burnt with unholy fire, shepushed him out of the room. 

The poor man staggered like a drunken man, as he went down the stairs. 

"I am playing an abominable game, " he said to himself. "She does loveme! What a woman!"

It required nothing less to rouse him from his stupor than the sightof Papa Ravinet, who was waiting for him below, hid in a corner of hiscarriage. 

"Is it you?" he said. 

"Yes, myself. And it seems it was well I came. But for me, the countwould have kept you; but I came to your rescue by sending him up aletter. Now, tell me all. "

Daniel reported to him briefly, while they were driving along, hisconversation with the count and with Sarah. When he had concluded, theold dealer exclaimed, --

"We have the whole matter in our hands now. But there is not a minute tolose. Do you go back to the hotel, and wait for me there. I must go tothe court. "

At the hotel Daniel found Henrietta dying with anxiety. Still she onlyasked after her father. Was it pride, or was it prudence? She did notmention Sarah's name. They had, however, not much time for conversation. Papa Ravinet came back sooner than they expected, all busy and excited. He drew Daniel aside to give him his last directions, and did not leavehim till midnight, when he went away, saying, --

"The ground is burning under our feet; be punctual to-morrow. "

At the precise hour Daniel presented himself in Peletier Street, wherethe count received him with a delighted air. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "you come just in time. Brian is away; Sir Thorn isout on business; and I shall have to leave you directly after breakfast. You must keep the countess company. Come, Sarah, let us have breakfast. "

It was an ill-omened breakfast. 

Under the thick layers of rouge, the count showed his livid pallor;and every moment nervous tremblings shook him from head to foot. Thecountess affected childish happiness; but her sharp and sudden movementsbetrayed the storm that was raging in her heart. Daniel noticed that sheincessantly filled the count's glass, --a strong wine it was too, --andthat, in order to make him take more, she drank herself an unusualquantity. 

It struck twelve, and Count Ville-Handry got up. 

"Well, " he said with the air and the voice of a man who braces himselfto mount the scaffold, "it must be done; they are waiting for me. "

And, after having kissed his wife with passionate tenderness, he shookhands with Daniel, and went out hurriedly. 

Crimson and breathless, Sarah also had risen, and was listeningattentively. And, when she was quite sure that the count had gonedownstairs, she said, --

"Now, Daniel, look at me! Need I tell you who the woman is whom I havechosen for you? It is--the Countess Ville-Handry. "

He shook and trembled; but he controlled himself by a supreme effort, and calmly smiling, in a half tender, half ironical tone, he replied, --

"Why, oh, why! do you speak to me of unattainable happiness? Are you notmarried?"

"I may be a widow. "

These words from her lips had a fearful meaning. But Daniel was preparedfor them, and said, --

"To be sure you may. But, unfortunately, you, also, are ruined. You areas poor as I am; and we are too clever to think of joining poverty topoverty. "

She looked at him with a strange, sinister smile. She was evidentlyhesitating. A last ray of reason lighted up the abyss at her feet. Butshe was drunk with pride and passion; she had taken a good deal of wine;and her usually cool head was in a state of delirium. 

"And if I were not ruined?" she said at last in a hoarse voice; "whatwould you say then?"

"I should say that you are the very woman of whom an ambitious man ofthirty might dream in his most glorious visions. "

She believed him. Yes, she was capable of believing that what he saidwas true; and, throwing aside all restraint, she went on, --

"Well, then, I will tell you. I am rich, --immensely rich. That entirefortune which once belonged to Count Ville-Handry, and which he thinkshas been lost in unlucky speculations, --the whole of it is in my hands. Ah! I have suffered horribly, to have to play for two long years theloving wife to this decrepit old man. But I thought of you, my muchbeloved, my Daniel; and that thought sustained me. I knew you would comeback; and I wanted to have royal treasures to give you. And I have them. These much coveted millions are mine, and you are here; and now I cansay to you, 'Take them, they are yours; I give them to you as I givemyself to you. '"

She had drawn herself up to her full height as she said this; and shelooked splendid and fearful at the same time, in her matchless beauty, diffusing energy and immodesty around her, and shaking her headdefiantly, till the waves of golden hair flowed over her shoulders. 

The untamed vagabond of the gutter reappeared all of a sudden, breathless and trembling, hoarse, lusting. 

Daniel felt as if his reason was giving way. Still he had the strengthto say, --

"But unfortunately you are not a widow. "

She drew close up to him, and said in a strident voice, --

"Not a widow? Do you know what Count Ville-Handry is doing at thismoment? He is beseeching his stockholders to relieve him from theeffects of his mismanagement. If they refuse him, he will be brought upin court, and tried as a defaulter. Well, I tell you! they will refusehim; for among the largest stockholders there are three who belong tome: I have bribed them to refuse. What do you think the count will dowhen he finds himself dishonored and disgraced? I will tell you again;for I have seen him write his will, and load his revolver. "

But the door of the outer room was opened. She turned as pale as deathitself, and, seizing Daniel's arm violently, she whispered, --

"Listen!"

Heavy steps were heard in the adjoining room, then--nothing more!

"It is he!" she whispered again. "Our fate is hanging in the scales"--

A shot was heard, which made the window-panes rattle, and cut hershort. She was seized with spasms from head to foot, but, making a greateffort, she cried out, --

"Free at last, Daniel; we are free!"

And, rushing to the door, she opened it. 

She opened it, but instantly shut it again violently, and uttered aterrible cry. 

On the threshold stood Count Ville-Handry, his features terriblydistorted, a smoking revolver in his hand. 

"No, " he said, "Sarah, no, you are not free!"

Livid, and with eyeballs starting from their sockets, the wretched womanhad shrunk back to a door which opened from the dining-room directlyinto her chamber. 

She was not despairing yet. 

It was evident she was looking for one of those almost incredibleexcuses which are sometimes accepted by credulous old men when violentpassions seize them in their dotage. 

She abandoned the thought, however, when the count stepped forward, andthus allowed Papa Ravinet to be seen behind him. 

"Malgat!" she cried, --"Malgat!"

She held out her hands before her as if to push aside a spectre thathad suddenly risen from the grave, and was now opening its arms to seizeher, and carry her off. 

In the meantime Malgat came forward, with Henrietta leaning on Mrs. Bertolle's arm. 

"She also, " muttered Sarah, --"she too!"

The terrible truth broke at last upon her mind: she saw the snare inwhich she had been caught, and felt that she was lost. Then turning toDaniel, she said to him, --

"Poor man! Who has made you do this? It was not in your loyal heart toplan such treachery against a woman. Are you mad? And do you not see, that for the privilege of being loved by me as I love you, and were itbut for a day, Malgat would again rob his employers, and the count wouldagain give all his millions, and his honor itself?"

She said this; but at the same time she had slipped one of her handsbehind her back, and was feeling for the knob of the door. She got holdof it, and instantly disappeared, before any one could have preventedher escape. 

"Never mind!" said Malgat. "All the outer doors are guarded. "

But she had not meant to escape. There she was again, pale and cold likemarble. She looked defiantly all around her, and said in a mocking toneof voice, --

"I have loved; and now I can die. That is just. I have loved. Ah!Planix, Malgat, and Kergrist ought to have taught me what becomes ofpeople who really love. "

Then looking at Daniel, she went on, --

"And you--you will know what you have lost when I am no more. I may die;but the memory of my love will never die: it will rankle ever in youlike a wound which opens daily afresh, and becomes constantly sorer. You triumph now, Henrietta; but remember, that between your lips andDaniel's there will forever rise the shadow of Sarah Brandon. "

As she said the last words, she raised a small phial, which she held inher hand, with an indescribably swift movement to her lips: she drankthe contents, and, sinking into a chair, said, --

"Now I defy you all!"

"Ah, she escapes after all!" exclaimed Malgat, "she escapes fromjustice!" He rushed forward to assist her; but Daniel stepped between, and said, --

"Let her die. "

Already horrible convulsions began to seize her; and the penetratingsmell of bitter almonds, which slowly filled the whole room, told buttoo plainly that the poison which she had taken was one of those fromwhich there is no rescue. 

She was carried to her bed; and in less than ten minutes she was dead:she had never uttered another word. 

Henrietta and Mrs. Bertolle were kneeling by the side of the bed, andthe count was sobbing in a corner of the room, when a police-sergeantentered. 

"The woman Brian is not to be found, " he said; "but M. Elgin has beenarrested. Where is the Countess Ville-Handry?"

Daniel pointed at the body. 

"Dead?" said the officer. "Then I have nothing more to do here. "

He was going out, when Malgat stopped him. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " he said. "I wish to state that I am notRavinet, dealer in curiosities; but that my true name is Malgat, formerly cashier of the Mutual Discount Society, sentenced _incontumaciam_ to ten years' penal servitude. I am ready to be tried, andplace myself in your hands. "

XXXIII. 

The magistrate from Saigon saw his hopes fulfilled, and, thanks to hispromotion, was commissioned to continue the trial which he had so ablycommenced. After the jury had brought in their verdict of guilty, hesentenced Justin Chevassat, alias Maxime de Brevan, to penal servitudefor life. 

Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, got off with twenty years; and the twoChevassats escaped with ten years' solitary confinement. 

The trial of Thomas Elgin, which came on during the same term, revealeda system of swindling which was so strikingly bold and daring, that itappeared at first sight almost incredible. It excited especial surprisewhen it was found out that he had issued false shares, which he madeCount Ville-Handry buy in, so as to ruin, by the same process, the countas an individual, and the company over which he presided. He was sentfor twenty years to the penitentiary. 

These scandalous proceedings had one good result. They saved the poorcount; but they revealed, at the same time, such prodigious unfitnessfor business, that people began to suspect how dependent he must havebeen on his first wife, Henrietta's mother. He remained, however, relatively poor. They had made Thomas Elgin refund, and had evenobtained possession of Sarah Brandon's fortune; but the count was calledupon to make amends for his want of business capacity. When he hadsatisfied all his creditors, and handed over to his daughter a part ofher maternal inheritance, he had hardly more than six thousand dollars ayear left. 

Of the whole "band, " Mrs. Brian alone escaped. 

Malgat, having surrendered to justice with the prescribed limits of timeto purge himself, was tried, and the whole process begun anew. But thetrial was naturally a mere form. His own lawyer had very little tosay. The state attorney himself made his defense. After having fullyexplained the circumstances which had led the poor cashier to permita crime, rather than to commit it himself, the attorney said to thejury, --

"Now, gentlemen, that you have learned what was the wrong of which he isguilty, you ought also to know how he has expiated his crime. 

"When he left the miserable woman who had ruined him, maddened by grief, and determined to end his life, Malgat went home. There he found hissister. 

"She was one of those women who have religiously preserved the domesticvirtues of our forefathers, and who know of no compromise in questionsof honor. 

"She had soon forced her brother to confess his fatal secret, and, overcoming the horror she naturally felt, she found words, inspiredby her excellent heart, which moved him, and led him to reconsider hisresolve. She told him that suicide was but an additional crime, and thathe was in honor bound to live, so that he might make amends, and restorethe money he had stolen. "

"Hope began to rise once more in his heart, and filled him withunexpected energy. And yet what obstacles he had to encounter! How couldhe ever hope to return four hundred thousand francs. How should he goabout to earn so much money? and where? How could he do anything, nowthat he was compelled to live in concealment?

"Do you know, gentlemen, what this sister did in her almost sublimedevotion? She had a moderate income from state bonds; she sold themall, and carried the proceeds to the president of the Mutual DiscountSociety, begging him to be patient as to the remainder, and promisingthat he should be repaid, capital and interest alike. She asked fornothing but secrecy; and he pledged himself to secrecy. 

"And from that day, gentlemen of the jury, the brother and the sisterhave lived like the poorest laborers, working incessantly, and denyingthemselves everything but what was indispensable for life itself. 

"And this day, gentlemen, Malgat owes nothing to the society; he haspaid everything. He fell once; but he has risen again. And this placein court, where he now sits as a prisoner, will become to him a place ofhonor, in which he will recover his position in society, and his honor. "

Malgat was acquitted. 

The marriage of Henrietta, Countess Ville-Handry, and Lieut. DanielChampcey, was celebrated at the Church of St. Clothilda. Daniel'sgroomsmen were Malgat and the old chief surgeon of the frigate"Conquest. " Several persons noticed that the bride wore, contrary tousage, a dress of embroidered muslin. It was the robe which Henriettahad so often covered with her tears, at the time when, having no breadfor the morrow, she had tried to live by the work of her hands. Malgathad hunted it up, and bought it: the precious dress was his wedding-gift.