THE LEROUGE CASE

By Emile Gaboriau

CHAPTER I. 

On Thursday, the 6th of March, 1862, two days after Shrove Tuesday, fivewomen belonging to the village of La Jonchere presented themselves atthe police station at Bougival. 

They stated that for two days past no one had seen the Widow Lerouge, one of their neighbours, who lived by herself in an isolated cottage. They had several times knocked at the door, but all in vain. Thewindow-shutters as well as the door were closed; and it was impossibleto obtain even a glimpse of the interior. 

This silence, this sudden disappearance alarmed them. Apprehensive ofa crime, or at least of an accident, they requested the interference ofthe police to satisfy their doubts by forcing the door and entering thehouse. 

Bougival is a pleasant riverside village, peopled on Sundays by crowdsof boating parties. Trifling offences are frequently heard of in itsneighbourhood, but crimes are rare. 

The commissary of police at first refused to listen to the women, buttheir importunities so fatigued him that he at length acceded to theirrequest. He sent for the corporal of gendarmes, with two of hismen, called into requisition the services of a locksmith, and, thusaccompanied, followed the neighbours of the Widow Lerouge. 

La Jonchere owes some celebrity to the inventor of the sliding railway, who for some years past has, with more enterprise than profit, madepublic trials of his system in the immediate neighbourhood. It isa hamlet of no importance, resting upon the slope of the hill whichoverlooks the Seine between La Malmaison and Bougival. It is abouttwenty minutes' walk from the main road, which, passing by Rueil andPort-Marly, goes from Paris to St. Germain, and is reached by a steepand rugged lane, quite unknown to the government engineers. 

The party, led by the gendarmes, followed the main road which herebordered the river until it reached this lane, into which it turned, andstumbled over the rugged inequalities of the ground for about a hundredyards, when it arrived in front of a cottage of extremely modest yetrespectable appearance. This cottage had probably been built by somelittle Parisian shopkeeper in love with the beauties of nature; forall the trees had been carefully cut down. It consisted merely of twoapartments on the ground floor with a loft above. Around it extended amuch-neglected garden, badly protected against midnight prowlers, bya very dilapidated stone wall about three feet high, and broken andcrumbling in many places. A light wooden gate, clumsily held in itsplace by pieces of wire, gave access to the garden. 

"It is here, " said the women. 

The commissary stopped. During his short walk, the number of hisfollowers had been rapidly increasing, and now included all theinquisitive and idle persons of the neighbourhood. He found himselfsurrounded by about forty individuals burning with curiosity. 

"No one must enter the garden, " said he; and, to ensure obedience, heplaced the two gendarmes on sentry before the entrance, and advancedtowards the house, accompanied by the corporal and the locksmith. 

He knocked several times loudly with his leaded cane, first at the door, and then successively at all the window shutters. After each blow, heplaced his ear against the wood and listened. Hearing nothing, he turnedto the locksmith. 

"Open!" said he. 

The workman unstrapped his satchel, and produced his implements. He hadalready introduced a skeleton key into the lock, when a loud exclamationwas heard from the crowd outside the gate. 

"The key!" they cried. "Here is the key!"

A boy about twelve years old playing with one of his companions, hadseen an enormous key in a ditch by the roadside; he had picked it up andcarried it to the cottage in triumph. 

"Give it to me youngster, " said the corporal. "We shall see. "

The key was tried, and it proved to be the key of the house. 

The commissary and the locksmith exchanged glances full of sinistermisgivings. "This looks bad, " muttered the corporal. They entered thehouse, while the crowd, restrained with difficulty by the gendarmes, stamped with impatience, or leant over the garden wall, stretching theirnecks eagerly, to see or hear something of what was passing within thecottage. 

Those who anticipated the discovery of a crime, were unhappily notdeceived. The commissary was convinced of this as soon as he crossed thethreshold. Everything in the first room pointed with a sad eloquence tothe recent presence of a malefactor. The furniture was knocked about, and a chest of drawers and two large trunks had been forced and brokenopen. 

In the inner room, which served as a sleeping apartment, the disorderwas even greater. It seemed as though some furious hand had taken afiendish pleasure in upsetting everything. Near the fireplace, her faceburied in the ashes, lay the dead body of Widow Lerouge. All one side ofthe face and the hair were burnt; it seemed a miracle that the fire hadnot caught her clothing. 

"Wretches!" exclaimed the corporal. "Could they not have robbed, withoutassassinating the poor woman?"

"But where has she been wounded?" inquired the commissary, "I do not seeany blood. "

"Look! here between the shoulders, " replied the corporal; "two fierceblows, by my faith. I'll wager my stripes she had no time to cry out. "

He stooped over the corpse and touched it. 

"She is quite cold, " he continued, "and it seems to me that she is nolonger very stiff. It is at least thirty-six hours since she receivedher death-blow. "

The commissary began writing, on the corner of a table, a short officialreport. 

"We are not here to talk, but to discover the guilty, " said he to thecorporal. "Let information be at once conveyed to the justice of thepeace, and the mayor, and send this letter without delay to the Palaisde Justice. In a couple of hours, an investigating magistrate can behere. In the meanwhile, I will proceed to make a preliminary inquiry. "

"Shall I carry the letter?" asked the corporal of gendarmes. 

"No, send one of your men; you will be useful to me here in keepingthese people in order, and in finding any witnesses I may want. Wemust leave everything here as it is. I will install myself in the otherroom. "

A gendarme departed at a run towards the station at Rueil; and thecommissary commenced his investigations in regular form, as prescribedby law. 

"Who was Widow Lerouge? Where did she come from? What did she do? Uponwhat means, and how did she live? What were her habits, her morals, andwhat sort of company did she keep? Was she known to have enemies? Wasshe a miser? Did she pass for being rich?"

The commissary knew the importance of ascertaining all this: butalthough the witnesses were numerous enough, they possessed butlittle information. The depositions of the neighbours, successivelyinterrogated, were empty, incoherent, and incomplete. No one knewanything of the victim, who was a stranger in the country. Manypresented themselves as witnesses moreover, who came forward less toafford information than to gratify their curiosity. A gardener's wife, who had been friendly with the deceased, and a milk-woman with whomshe dealt, were alone able to give a few insignificant though precisedetails. 

In a word, after three hours of laborious investigation, after havingundergone the infliction of all the gossip of the country, afterreceiving evidence the most contradictory, and listened to commentariesthe most ridiculous, the following is what appeared the most reliable tothe commissary. 

Twelve years before, at the beginning of 1850, the woman Lerouge hadmade her appearance at Bougival with a large wagon piled with furniture, linen, and her personal effects. She had alighted at an inn, declaringher intention of settling in the neighbourhood, and had immediately gonein quest of a house. Finding this one unoccupied, and thinking it wouldsuit her, she had taken it without trying to beat down the terms, ata rental of three hundred and twenty francs payable half yearly and inadvance, but had refused to sign a lease. 

The house taken, she occupied it the same day, and expended about ahundred francs on repairs. 

She was a woman about fifty-four or fifty-five years of age, wellpreserved, active, and in the enjoyment of excellent health. No oneknew her reasons for taking up her abode in a country where she was anabsolute stranger. She was supposed to have come from Normandy, havingbeen frequently seen in the early morning to wear a white cotton cap. This night-cap did not prevent her dressing very smartly during the day;indeed, she ordinarily wore very handsome dresses, very showy ribbonsin her caps, and covered herself with jewels like a saint in a chapel. Without doubt she had lived on the coast, for ships and the sea recurredincessantly in her conversation. 

She did not like speaking of her husband who had, she said, perishedin a shipwreck. But she had never given the slightest detail. On oneparticular occasion she had remarked, in presence of the milk-woman andthree other persons, "No woman was ever more miserable than I during mymarried life. " And at another she had said, "All new, all fine! A newbroom sweeps clean. My defunct husband only loved me for a year!"

Widow Lerouge passed for rich, or at the least for being very well offand she was not a miser. She had lent a woman at La Malmaison sixtyfrancs with which to pay her rent, and would not let her return them. At another time she had advanced two hundred francs to a fisherman ofPort-Marly. She was fond of good living, spent a good deal on her food, and bought wine by the half cask. She took pleasure in treating heracquaintances, and her dinners were excellent. If complimented on hereasy circumstances, she made no very strong denial. She had frequentlybeen heard to say, "I have nothing in the funds, but I have everything Iwant. If I wished for more, I could have it. "

Beyond this, the slightest allusion to her past life, her country, orher family had never escaped her. She was very talkative, but all shewould say would be to the detriment of her neighbours. She was supposed, however, to have seen the world, and to know a great deal. She was verydistrustful and barricaded herself in her cottage as in a fortress. Shenever went out in the evening, and it was well known that she got tipsyregularly at her dinner and went to bed very soon afterwards. Rarely hadstrangers been seen to visit her; four or five times a lady accompaniedby a young man had called, and upon one occasion two gentlemen, oneyoung, the other old and decorated, had come in a magnificent carriage. 

In conclusion, the deceased was held in but little esteem by herneighbours. Her remarks were often most offensive and odious in themouth of a woman of her age. She had been heard to give a young girlthe most detestable counsels. A pork butcher, belonging to Bougival, embarrassed in his business, and tempted by her supposed wealth, had atone time paid her his addresses. She, however, repelled his advances, declaring that to be married once was enough for her. On severaloccasions men had been seen in her house; first of all, a young one, whohad the appearance of a clerk of the railway company; then another, a tall, elderly man, very sunburnt, who was dressed in a blouse, andlooked very villainous. These men were reported to be her lovers. 

Whilst questioning the witnesses, the commissary wrote down theirdepositions in a more condensed form, and he had got so far, when theinvestigating magistrate arrived, attended by the chief of the detectivepolice, and one of his subordinates. 

M. Daburon was a man thirty-eight years of age, and of prepossessingappearance; sympathetic notwithstanding his coldness; wearing upon hiscountenance a sweet, and rather sad expression. This settled melancholyhad remained with him ever since his recovery, two years before, from adreadful malady, which had well-nigh proved fatal. 

Investigating magistrate since 1859, he had rapidly acquired the mostbrilliant reputation. Laborious, patient, and acute, he knew withsingular skill how to disentangle the skein of the most complicatedaffair, and from the midst of a thousand threads lay hold to the rightone. None better than he, armed with an implacable logic, couldsolve those terrible problems in which X--in algebra, the unknownquantity--represents the criminal. Clever in deducing the unknown fromthe known, he excelled in collecting facts, and in uniting in abundle of overwhelming proofs circumstances the most trifling, and inappearance the most insignificant. 

Although possessed of qualifications for his office so numerous andvaluable, he was tremblingly distrustful of his own abilities andexercised his terrible functions with diffidence and hesitation. Hewanted audacity to risk those sudden surprises so often resorted to byhis colleagues in the pursuit of truth. 

Thus it was repugnant to his feelings to deceive even an accused person, or to lay snares for him; in fact the mere idea of the possibility of ajudicial error terrified him. They said of him in the courts, "He isa trembler. " What he sought was not conviction, nor the most probablepresumptions, but the most absolute certainty. No rest for him until theday when the accused was forced to bow before the evidence; so muchso that he had been jestingly reproached with seeking not to discovercriminals but innocents. 

The chief of detective police was none other than the celebrated Gevrol. He is really an able man, but wanting in perseverance, and liable to beblinded by an incredible obstinacy. If he loses a clue, he cannot bringhimself to acknowledge it, still less to retrace his steps. His audacityand coolness, however, render it impossible to disconcert him; andbeing possessed of immense personal strength, hidden under a mostmeagre appearance, he has never hesitated to confront the most daring ofmalefactors. 

But his specialty, his triumph, his glory, is a memory of faces, soprodigious as to exceed belief. Let him see a face for five minutes, andit is enough. Its possessor is catalogued, and will be recognised at anytime. The impossibilities of place, the unlikelihood of circumstances, the most incredible disguises will not lead him astray. The reason forthis, so he pretends, is because he only looks at a man's eyes, withoutnoticing any other features. 

This faculty was severely tested some months back at Poissy, by thefollowing experiment. Three prisoners were draped in coverings so asto completely disguise their height. Over their faces were thick veils, allowing nothing of the features to be seen except the eyes, for whichholes had been made; and in this state they were shown to Gevrol. 

Without the slightest hesitation he recognised the prisoners and namedthem. Had chance alone assisted him?

The subordinate Gevrol had brought with him, was an old offender, reconciled to the law. A smart fellow in his profession, crafty asa fox, and jealous of his chief, whose abilities he held in lightestimation. His name was Lecoq. 

The commissary, by this time heartily tired of his responsibilities, welcomed the investigating magistrate and his agents as liberators. Herapidly related the facts collected and read his official report. 

"You have proceeded very well, " observed the investigating magistrate. "All is stated clearly; yet there is one fact you have omitted toascertain. "

"What is that, sir?" inquired the commissary. 

"On what day was Widow Lerouge last seen, and at what hour?"

"I was coming to that presently. She was last seen and spoken to on theevening of Shrove Tuesday, at twenty minutes past five. She was thenreturning from Bougival with a basketful of purchases. "

"You are sure of the hour, sir?" inquired Gevrol. 

"Perfectly, and for this reason; the two witnesses who furnished mewith this fact, a woman named Tellier and a cooper who lives hard by, alighted from the omnibus which leaves Marly every hour, when theyperceived the widow in the cross-road, and hastened to overtake her. They conversed with her and only left her when they reached the door ofher own house. "

"And what had she in her basket?" asked the investigating magistrate. 

"The witnesses cannot say. They only know that she carried two sealedbottles of wine, and another of brandy. She complained to them ofheadache, and said, 'Though it is customary to enjoy oneself on ShroveTuesday, I am going to bed. '"

"So, so!" exclaimed the chief of detective police. "I know where tosearch!"

"You think so?" inquired M. Daburon. 

"Why, it is clear enough. We must find the tall sunburnt man, thegallant in the blouse. The brandy and the wine were intended for hisentertainment. The widow expected him to supper. He came, sure enough, the amiable gallant!"

"Oh!" cried the corporal of gendarmes, evidently scandalised, "she wasvery old, and terribly ugly!"

Gevrol surveyed the honest fellow with an expression of contemptuouspity. "Know, corporal, " said he, "that a woman who has money is alwaysyoung and pretty, if she desires to be thought so!"

"Perhaps there is something in that, " remarked the magistrate; "but itis not what strikes me most. I am more impressed by the remark of thisunfortunate woman. 'If I wished for more, I could have it. '"

"That also attracted my attention, " acquiesced the commissary. 

But Gevrol no longer took the trouble to listen. He stuck to hisown opinion, and began to inspect minutely every corner of the room. Suddenly he turned towards the commissary. "Now that I think of it, "cried he, "was it not on Tuesday that the weather changed? It had beenfreezing for a fortnight past, and on that evening it rained. At whattime did the rain commence here?"

"At half-past nine, " answered the corporal. "I went out from supper tomake my circuit of the dancing halls, when I was overtaken opposite theRue des Pecheurs by a heavy shower. In less than ten minutes there washalf an inch of water in the road. "

"Very well, " said Gevrol. "Then if the man came after half-past nine hisshoes must have been very muddy. If they were dry, he arrived sooner. This must have been noticed, for the floor is a polished one. Were thereany imprints of footsteps, M. Commissary?"

"I must confess we never thought of looking for them. "

"Ah!" exclaimed the chief detective, in a tone of irritation, "that isvexatious!"

"Wait, " added the commissary; "there is yet time to see if there areany, not in this room, but in the other. We have disturbed absolutelynothing there. My footsteps and the corporal's will be easilydistinguished. Let us see. "

As the commissary opened the door of the second chamber, Gevrol stoppedhim. "I ask permission, sir, " said he to the investigating magistrate, "to examine the apartment before any one else is permitted to enter. Itis very important for me. "

"Certainly, " approved M. Daburon. 

Gevrol passed in first, the others remaining on the threshold. Theyall took in at a glance the scene of the crime. Everything, as thecommissary had stated, seemed to have been overturned by some furiousmadman. In the middle of the room was a table covered with a fine linencloth, white as snow. Upon this was placed a magnificent wineglass ofthe rarest manufacture, a very handsome knife, and a plate of the finestporcelain. There was an opened bottle of wine, hardly touched, andanother of brandy, from which about five or six small glassfuls had beentaken. 

On the right, against the wall, stood two handsome walnut-woodwardrobes, with ornamental locks; they were placed one on each side ofthe window; both were empty, and the contents scattered about on allsides. There were clothing, linen, and other effects unfolded, tossedabout, and crumpled. At the end of the room, near the fireplace, a largecupboard used for keeping the crockery was wide open. On the other sideof the fireplace, an old secretary with a marble top had been forced, broken, smashed into bits, and rummaged, no doubt, to its inmostrecesses. The desk, wrenched away, hung by a single hinge. The drawershad been pulled out and thrown upon the floor. 

To the left of the room stood the bed, which had been completelydisarranged and upset. Even the straw of the mattress had been pulledout and examined. 

"Not the slightest imprint, " murmured Gevrol disappointed. "He must havearrived before half-past nine. You can all come in now. "

He walked right up to the corpse of the widow, near which he knelt. 

"It can not be said, " grumbled he, "that the work is not properly done!the assassin is no apprentice!"

Then looking right and left, he continued: "Oh! oh! the poor devil wasbusy with her cooking when he struck her; see her pan of ham and eggsupon the hearth. The brute hadn't patience enough to wait for thedinner. The gentleman was in a hurry, he struck the blow fasting;therefore he can't invoke the gayety of dessert in his defense!"

"It is evident, " said the commissary to the investigating magistrate, "that robbery was the motive of the crime. "

"It is probable, " answered Gevrol in a sly way; "and that accounts forthe absence of the silver spoons from the table. "

"Look here! Some pieces of gold in this drawer!" exclaimed Lecoq, whohad been searching on his own account, "just three hundred and twentyfrancs!"

"Well, I never!" cried Gevrol, a little disconcerted. But he soonrecovered from his embarrassment, and added: "He must have forgottenthem; that often happens. I have known an assassin, who, afteraccomplishing the murder, became so utterly bewildered as to departwithout remembering to take the plunder, for which he had committed thecrime. Our man became excited perhaps, or was interrupted. Some one mayhave knocked at the door. What makes me more willing to think so is, that the scamp did not leave the candle burning. You see he took thetrouble to put it out. "

"Pooh!" said Lecoq. "That proves nothing. He is probably an economicaland careful man. "

The investigations of the two agents were continued all over the house;but their most minute researches resulted in discovering absolutelynothing; not one piece of evidence to convict; not the faintestindication which might serve as a point of departure. Even the deadwoman's papers, if she possessed any, had disappeared. Not a letter, nota scrap of paper even, to be met with. From time to time Gevrol stoppedto swear or grumble. "Oh! it is cleverly done! It is a tiptop piece ofwork! The scoundrel is a cool hand!"

"Well, what do you make of it?" at length demanded the investigatingmagistrate. 

"It is a drawn game monsieur, " replied Gevrol. "We are baffled for thepresent. The miscreant has taken his measures with great precaution;but I will catch him. Before night, I shall have a dozen men in pursuit. Besides, he is sure to fall into our hands. He has carried off the plateand the jewels. He is lost!"

"Despite all that, " said M. Daburon, "we are no further advanced than wewere this morning!"

"Well!" growled Gevrol. "A man can only do what he can!"

"Ah!" murmured Lecoq in a low tone, perfectly audible, however, "why isnot old Tirauclair here?"

"What could he do more than we have done?" retorted Gevrol, directing afurious glance at his subordinate. Lecoq bowed his head and was silent, inwardly delighted at having wounded his chief. 

"Who is old Tirauclair?" asked M. Daburon. "It seems to me that I haveheard the name, but I can't remember where. "

"He is an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Lecoq. "He was formerly a clerkat the Mont de Piete, " added Gevrol; "but he is now a rich old fellow, whose real name is Tabaret. He goes in for playing the detective by wayof amusement. "

"And to augment his revenues, " insinuated the commissary. 

"He?" cried Lecoq. "No danger of that. He works so much for the gloryof success that he often spends money from his own pocket. It'shis amusement, you see! At the Prefecture we have nicknamed him'Tirauclair, ' from a phrase he is constantly in the habit of repeating. Ah! he is sharp, the old weasel! It was he who in the case of thatbanker's wife, you remember, guessed that the lady had robbed herself, and who proved it. "

"True!" retorted Gevrol; "and it was also he who almost had poor Deremeguillotined for killing his wife, a thorough bad woman; and all thewhile the poor man was innocent. "

"We are wasting our time, gentlemen, " interrupted M. Daburon. Then, addressing himself to Lecoq, he added:--"Go and find M. Tabaret. I haveheard a great deal of him, and shall be glad to see him at work here. "

Lecoq started off at a run, Gevrol was seriously humiliated. "You haveof course, sir, the right to demand the services of whom you please, "commenced he, "but yet--"

"Do not, " interrupted M. Daburon, "let us lose our tempers, M. Gevrol. I have known you for a long time, and I know your worth; but to-day wehappen to differ in opinion. You hold absolutely to your sunburnt manin the blouse, and I, on my side, am convinced that you are not on theright track!"

"I think I am right, " replied the detective, "and I hope to prove it. Ishall find the scoundrel, be he whom he may!"

"I ask nothing better, " said M. Daburon. 

"Only, permit me, sir, to give--what shall I say without failing inrespect?--a piece of advice?"

"Speak!"

"I would advise you, sir, to distrust old Tabaret. "

"Really? And for what reason?"

"The old fellow allows himself to be carried away too much byappearances. He has become an amateur detective for the sake ofpopularity, just like an author; and, as he is vainer than a peacock, he is apt to lose his temper and be very obstinate. As soon as he findshimself in the presence of a crime, like this one, for example, hepretends he can explain everything on the instant. And he manages toinvent a story that will correspond exactly with the situation. Heprofesses, with the help of one single fact, to be able to reconstructall the details of an assassination, as a savant pictures anantediluvian animal from a single bone. Sometimes he divines correctly;very often, though, he makes a mistake. Take, for instance, the case ofthe tailor, the unfortunate Dereme, without me--"

"I thank you for your advice, " interrupted M. Daburon, "and will profitby it. Now commissary, " he continued, "it is most important to ascertainfrom what part of the country Widow Lerouge came. "

The procession of witnesses under the charge of the corporal ofgendarmes were again interrogated by the investigating magistrate. 

But nothing new was elicited. It was evident that Widow Lerouge had beena singularly discreet woman; for, although very talkative, nothing inany way connected with her antecedents remained in the memory of thegossips of La Jonchere. 

All the people interrogated, however, obstinately tried to impart tothe magistrate their own convictions and personal conjectures. Publicopinion sided with Gevrol. Every voice denounced the tall sunburnt manwith the gray blouse. He must surely be the culprit. Everyone rememberedhis ferocious aspect, which had frightened the whole neighbourhood. Hehad one evening menaced a woman, and another day beaten a child. Theycould point out neither the child nor the woman; but no matter: thesebrutal acts were notoriously public. M. Daburon began to despair ofgaining the least enlightenment, when some one brought the wife of agrocer of Bougival, at whose shop the victim used to deal, and a childthirteen years old, who knew, it was said, something positive. 

The grocer's wife first made her appearance. She had heard Widow Lerougespeak of having a son still living. 

"Are you quite sure of that?" asked the investigating magistrate. 

"As of my existence, " answered the woman, "for, on that evening, yes, itwas evening, she was, saving your presence, a little tipsy. She remainedin my shop more than an hour. "

"And what did she say?"

"I think I see her now, " continued the shopkeeper: "she was leaningagainst the counter near the scales, jesting with a fisherman of Marly, old Husson, who can tell you the same; and she called him a fresh watersailor. 'My husband, ' said she, 'was a real sailor, and the proof is, he would sometimes remain years on a voyage, and always used to bring meback cocoanuts. I have a son who is also a sailor, like his dead father, in the imperial navy. '"

"Did she mention her son's name?"

"Not that time, but another evening, when she was, if I may say so, verydrunk. She told us that her son's name was Jacques, and that she had notseen him for a very long time. "

"Did she speak ill of her husband?"

"Never! She only said he was jealous and brutal, though a good man atbottom, and that he led her a miserable life. He was weak-headed, andforged ideas out of nothing at all. In fact he was too honest to bewise. "

"Did her son ever come to see her while she lived here?"

"She never told me of it. "

"Did she spend much money with you?"

"That depends. About sixty francs a month; sometimes more, for shealways buys the best brandy. She paid cash for all she bought. "

The woman knowing no more was dismissed. The child, who was now broughtforward, belonged to parents in easy circumstances. Tall and strongfor his age, he had bright intelligent eyes, and features expressive ofwatchfulness and cunning. The presence of the magistrate did not seem tointimidate him in the least. 

"Let us hear, my boy, " said M. Daburon, "what you know. "

"Well, sir, a few days ago, on Sunday last, I saw a man at MadameLerouge's garden-gate. "

"At what time of the day?"

"Early in the morning. I was going to church, to serve in the secondmass. "

"Well, " continued the magistrate, "and this man was tall and sunburnt, and dressed in a blouse?"

"No, sir, on the contrary, he was short, very fat, and old. "

"You are sure you are not mistaken?"

"Quite sure, " replied the urchin, "I saw him close face to face, for Ispoke to him. "

"Tell me, then, what occurred?"

"Well, sir, I was passing when I saw this fat man at the gate. Heappeared very much vexed, oh! but awfully vexed! His face was red, orrather purple, as far as the middle of his head, which I could see verywell, for it was bare, and had very little hair on it. "

"And did he speak to you first?"

"Yes, sir, he saw me, and called out, 'Halloa! youngster!' as I cameup to him, and he asked me if I had got a good pair of legs? I answeredyes. Then he took me by the ear, but without hurting me, and said, 'Since that is so, if you will run an errand for me, I will give youten sous. Run as far as the Seine; and when you reach the quay, you willnotice a large boat moored. Go on board, and ask to see Captain Gervais:he is sure to be there. Tell him that he can prepare to leave, that I amready. ' Then he put ten sous in my hand; and off I went. "

"If all the witnesses were like this bright little fellow, " murmured thecommissary, "what a pleasure it would be!"

"Now, " said the magistrate, "tell us how you executed your commission?"

"I went to the boat, sir, found the man, and I told him; and that'sall. "

Gevrol, who had listened with the most lively attention, leaned overtowards the ear of M. Daburon, and said in a low voice: "Will you permitme, sir, to ask the brat a few questions?"

"Certainly, M. Gevrol. "

"Come now, my little friend, " said Gevrol, "if you saw this man again, would you know him?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Then there was something remarkable about him?"

"Yes, I should think so! his face was the colour of a brick!"

"And is that all?"

"Well, yes, sir. "

"But you must remember how he was dressed; had he a blouse on?"

"No; he wore a jacket. Under the arms were very large pockets, and fromout of one of them peeped a blue spotted handkerchief. "

"What kind of trousers had he on?"

"I do not remember. "

"And his waistcoat?"

"Let me see, " answered the child. "I don't think he wore a waistcoat. And yet, --but no, I remember he did not wear one; he had a long cravat, fastened near his neck by a large ring. "

"Ah!" said Gevrol, with an air of satisfaction, "you are a bright boy;and I wager that if you try hard to remember you will find a few moredetails to give us. "

The boy hung down his head, and remained silent. From the knitting ofhis young brows, it was plain he was making a violent effort of memory. "Yes, " cried he suddenly, "I remember another thing. "

"What?"

"The man wore very large rings in his ears. "

"Bravo!" cried Gevrol, "here is a complete description. I shall find thefellow now. M. Daburon can prepare a warrant for his appearance wheneverhe likes. "

"I believe, indeed, the testimony of this child is of the highestimportance, " said M. Daburon; and turning to the boy added, "Can youtell us, my little friend, with what this boat was loaded?"

"No, sir, I couldn't see because it was decked. "

"Which way was she going, up the Seine or down?"

"Neither, sir, she was moored. "

"We know that, " said Gevrol. "The magistrate asks you which way the prowof the boat was turned, --towards Paris or towards Marly?"

"The two ends of the boat seemed alike to me. "

The chief of the detective of police made a gesture of disappointment. 

"At least, " said he, addressing the child again, "you noticed the nameof the boat? you can read I suppose. One should always know the names ofthe boats one goes aboard of. "

"No, I didn't see any name, " said the little boy. 

"If this boat was moored at the quay, " remarked M. Daburon, "it wasprobably noticed by the inhabitants of Bougival. "

"That is true, sir, " approved the commissary. 

"Yes, " said Gevrol, "and the sailors must have come ashore. I shall findout all about it at the wine shop. But what sort of a man was Gervais, the master, my little friend?"

"Like all the sailors hereabouts, sir. "

The child was preparing to depart when M. Daburon recalled him. 

"Before you go, my boy, tell me, have you spoken to any one of thismeeting before to-day?"

"Yes, sir, I told all to mamma when I got back from church, and gave herthe ten sous. "

"And you have told us the whole truth?" continued the magistrate. "Youknow that it is a very grave matter to attempt to impose on justice. Shealways finds it out, and it is my duty to warn you that she inflicts themost terrible punishment upon liars. "

The little fellow blushed as red as a cherry, and held down his head. 

"I see, " pursued M. Daburon, "that you have concealed something from us. Don't you know that the police know everything?"

"Pardon! sir, " cried the boy, bursting into tears, --"pardon. Don'tpunish me, and I will never do so again. "

"Tell us, then, how you have deceived us?"

"Well, sir, it was not ten sous that the man gave me, it was twentysous. I only gave half to mamma; and I kept the rest to buy marbleswith. "

"My little friend, " said the investigating magistrate, "for this time Iforgive you. But let it be a lesson for the remainder of your life. Youmay go now, and remember it is useless to try and hide the truth; italways comes to light!"

CHAPTER II. 

The two last depositions awakened in M. Daburon's mind some slightgleams of hope. In the midst of darkness, the humblest rush-lightacquires brilliancy. 

"I will go at once to Bougival, sir, if you approve of this step, "suggested Gevrol. 

"Perhaps you would do well to wait a little, " answered M. Daburon. "Thisman was seen on Sunday morning; we will inquire into Widow Lerouge'smovements on that day. "

Three neighbours were called. They all declared that the widow hadkept her bed all Sunday. To one woman who, hearing she was unwell, had visited her, she said, "Ah! I had last night a terrible accident. "Nobody at the time attached any significance to these words. 

"The man with the rings in his ears becomes more and important, " saidthe magistrate, when the woman had retired. "To find him again isindispensable: you must see to this, M. Gevrol. "

"Before eight days, I shall have him, " replied the chief of detectivepolice, "if I have to search every boat on the Seine, from its sourceto the ocean. I know the name of the captain, Gervais. The navigationoffice will tell me something. "

He was interrupted by Lecoq, who rushed into the house breathless. "Hereis old Tabaret, " he said. "I met him just as he was going out. What aman! He wouldn't wait for the train, but gave I don't know how much to acabman; and we drove here in fifty minutes!"

Almost immediately, a man appeared at the door, whose aspect it must beadmitted was not at all what one would have expected of a person who hadjoined the police for honour alone. He was certainly sixty years old anddid not look a bit younger. Short, thin, and rather bent, he leanton the carved ivory handle of a stout cane. His round face wore thatexpression of perpetual astonishment, mingled with uneasiness, whichhas made the fortunes of two comic actors of the Palais-Royal theatre. Scrupulously shaved, he presented a very short chin, large and goodnatured lips, and a nose disagreeably elevated, like the broad end ofone of Sax's horns. His eyes of a dull gray, were small and red at thelids, and absolutely void of expression; yet they fatigued the observerby their insupportable restlessness. A few straight hairs shaded hisforehead, which receded like that of a greyhound, and through theirscantiness barely concealed his long ugly ears. He was very comfortablydressed, clean as a new franc piece, displaying linen of dazzlingwhiteness, and wearing silk gloves and leather gaiters. A long andmassive gold chain, very vulgar-looking, was twisted thrice round hisneck, and fell in cascades into the pocket of his waistcoat. 

M. Tabaret, surnamed Tirauclair, stood at the threshold, and bowedalmost to the ground, bending his old back into an arch, and in thehumblest of voices asked, "The investigating magistrate has deigned tosend for me?"

"Yes!" replied M. Daburon, adding under his breath; "and if you are aman of any ability, there is at least nothing to indicate it in yourappearance. "

"I am here, " continued the old fellow, "completely at the service ofjustice. "

"I wish to know, " said M. Daburon, "whether you can discover some cluethat will put us upon the track of the assassin. I will explain the--"

"Oh, I know enough of it!" interrupted old Tabaret. "Lecoq has told methe principal facts, just as much as I desire to know. "

"Nevertheless--" commenced the commissary of police. 

"If you will permit me, I prefer to proceed without receiving anydetails, in order to be more fully master of my own impressions. Whenone knows another's opinion it can't help influencing one's judgment. I will, if you please, at once commence my researches, with Lecoq'sassistance. "

As the old fellow spoke, his little gray eyes dilated, and becamebrilliant as carbuncles. His face reflected an internal satisfaction;even his wrinkles seemed to laugh. His figure became erect, and his stepwas almost elastic, as he darted into the inner chamber. 

He remained there about half an hour; then came out running, thenre-entered and then again came out; once more he disappeared andreappeared again almost immediately. The magistrate could not helpcomparing him to a pointer on the scent, his turned-up nose even movedabout as if to discover some subtle odour left by the assassin. Allthe while he talked loudly and with much gesticulation, apostrophisinghimself, scolding himself, uttering little cries of triumph orself-encouragement. He did not allow Lecoq to have a moment's rest. Hewanted this or that or the other thing. He demanded paper and a pencil. Then he wanted a spade; and finally he cried out for plaster of Paris, some water and a bottle of oil. 

When more than an hour had elapsed, the investigating magistrate beganto grow impatient, and asked what had become of the amateur detective. 

"He is on the road, " replied the corporal, "lying flat in the mud, andmixing some plaster in a plate. He says he has nearly finished, and thathe is coming back presently. "

He did in fact return almost instantly, joyous, triumphant, looking atleast twenty years younger. Lecoq followed him, carrying with the utmostprecaution a large basket. 

"I have solved the riddle!" said Tabaret to the magistrate. "It is allclear now, and as plain as noon-day. Lecoq, my lad, put the basket onthe table. "

Gevrol at this moment returned from his expedition equally delighted. 

"I am on the track of the man with the earrings, " said he; "the boatwent down the river. I have obtained an exact description of the masterGervais. "

"What have you discovered, M. Tabaret!" asked the magistrate. 

The old fellow carefully emptied upon the table the contents of thebasket, --a big lump of clay, several large sheets of paper, and threeor four small lumps of plaster yet damp. Standing behind this table, hepresented a grotesque resemblance to those mountebank conjurers who inthe public squares juggle the money of the lookers-on. His clothes hadgreatly suffered; he was covered with mud up to the chin. 

"In the first place, " said he, at last, in a tone of affected modesty, "robbery has had nothing to do with the crime that occupies ourattention. "

"Oh! of course not!" muttered Gevrol. 

"I shall prove it, " continued old Tabaret, "by the evidence. By-and-byI shall offer my humble opinion as to the real motive. In the secondplace, the assassin arrived here before half-past nine; that is tosay, before the rain fell. No more than M. Gevrol have I been able todiscover traces of muddy footsteps; but under the table, on the spotwhere his feet rested, I find dust. We are thus assured of the hour. The widow did not in the least expect her visitor. She had commencedundressing, and was winding up her cuckoo clock when he knocked. "

"These are absolute details!" cried the commissary. 

"But easily established, " replied the amateur. "You see this cuckooclock above the secretary; it is one of those which run fourteen orfifteen hours at most, for I have examined it. Now it is more thanprobable, it is certain, that the widow wound it up every evening beforegoing to bed. How, then, is it that the clock has stopped at five?Because she must have touched it. As she was drawing the chain, theassassin knocked. In proof, I show this chair standing under the clock, and on the seat a very plain foot-mark. Now look at the dress of thevictim; the body of it is off. In order to open the door more quickly, she did not wait to put it on again, but hastily threw this old shawlover her shoulders. "

"By Jove!" exclaimed the corporal, evidently struck. 

"The widow, " continued the old fellow, "knew the person who knocked. Her haste to open the door gives rise to this conjecture; what followsproves it. The assassin then gained admission without difficulty. Heis a young man, a little above the middle height, elegantly dressed. Hewore on that evening a high hat. He carried an umbrella, and smoked atrabucos cigar in a holder. "

"Ridiculous!" cried Gevrol. "This is too much. "

"Too much, perhaps, " retorted old Tabaret. "At all events, it is thetruth. If you are not minute in your investigations, I cannot help it;anyhow, I am, I search, and I find. Too much, say you? Well deign toglance at these lumps of damp plaster. They represent the heels of theboots worn by the assassin, of which I found a most perfect impressionnear the ditch, where the key was picked up. On these sheets of paper, I have marked in outline the imprint of the foot which I cannot takeup, because it is on some sand. Look! heel high, instep pronounced, solesmall and narrow, --an elegant boot, belonging to a foot well cared forevidently. Look for this impression all along the path; and you willfind it again twice. Then you will find it five times repeated in thegarden where no one else had been; and these footprints prove, bythe way, that the stranger knocked not at the door, but at thewindow-shutter, beneath which shone a gleam of light. At the entrance tothe garden, the man leapt to avoid a flower bed! the point of the foot, more deeply imprinted than usual, shows it. He leapt more than two yardswith ease, proving that he is active, and therefore young. "

Old Tabaret spoke in a low voice, clear and penetrating: and his eyeglanced from one to the other of his auditors, watching the impressionhe was making. 

"Does the hat astonish you, M. Gevrol?" he pursued. "Just look at thecircle traced in the dust on the marble top of the secretary. Is itbecause I have mentioned his height that you are surprised? Take thetrouble to examine the tops of the wardrobes and you will see that theassassin passed his hands across them. Therefore he is taller than I am. Do not say that he got on a chair, for in that case, he would have seenand would not have been obliged to feel. Are you astonished about theumbrella? This lump of earth shows an admirable impression not only ofthe end of the stick, but even of the little round piece of wood whichis always placed at the end of the silk. Perhaps you cannot get over thestatement that he smoked a cigar? Here is the end of a trabucos thatI found amongst the ashes. Has the end been bitten? No. Has it beenmoistened with saliva? No. Then he who smoked it used a cigar-holder. "

Lecoq was unable to conceal his enthusiastic admiration, and noiselesslyrubbed his hands together. The commissary appeared stupefied, whileM. Daburon was delighted. Gevrol's face, on the contrary, was sensiblyelongated. As for the corporal, he was overwhelmed. 

"Now, " continued the old fellow, "follow me closely. We have traced theyoung man into the house. How he explained his presence at this hour, Ido not know; this much is certain, he told the widow he had not dined. The worthy woman was delighted to hear it, and at once set to work toprepare a meal. This meal was not for herself; for in the cupboard Ihave found the remains of her own dinner. She had dined off fish; theautopsy will confirm the truth of this statement. Besides you can seeyourselves, there is but one glass on the table, and one knife. Butwho is this young man? Evidently the widow looked upon him as a man ofsuperior rank to her own; for in the cupboard is a table-cloth stillvery clean. Did she use it? No. For her guest she brought out a cleanlinen one, her very best. It is for him this magnificent glass, apresent, no doubt, and it is evident she did not often use this knifewith the ivory handle. "

"That is all true, " murmured M. Daburon, "very true. "

"Now, then we have got the young man seated. He began by drinking aglass of wine, while the widow was putting her pan on the fire. Then, his heart failing him, he asked for brandy, and swallowed about fivesmall glassfuls. After an internal struggle of ten minutes (the time itmust have taken to cook the ham and eggs as much as they are), the youngman arose and approached the widow, who was squatting down and leaningforward over her cooking. He stabbed her twice on the back; but she wasnot killed instantly. She half arose seizing the assassin by the hands;while he drew back, lifting her suddenly, and then hurling her down inthe position in which you see her. This short struggle is indicated bythe posture of the body; for, squatting down and being struck in theback, it is naturally on her back that she ought to have fallen. Themurderer used a sharp narrow weapon, which was, unless I am deceived, the end of a foil, sharpened, and with the button broken off. Bywiping the weapon upon his victim's skirt, the assassin leaves us thisindication. He was not, however, hurt in the struggle. The victim musthave clung with a death-grip to his hands; but, as he had not taken offhis lavender kid gloves, --"

"Gloves! Why this is romance, " exclaimed Gevrol. 

"Have you examined the dead woman's finger-nails, M. Gevrol? No. Well, do so, and then tell me whether I am mistaken. The woman, now dead, we come to the object of her assassination. What did this well-dressedyoung gentleman want? Money? Valuables? No! no! a hundred times no! Whathe wanted, what he sought, and what he found, were papers, documents, letters, which he knew to be in the possession of the victim. To findthem, he overturned everything, upset the cupboards, unfolded the linen, broke open the secretary, of which he could not find the key, and evenemptied the mattress of the bed. At last he found these documents. Andthen do you know what he did with them? Why, burned them, of course; notin the fire-place, but in the little stove in the front room. His endaccomplished, what does he do next? He flies, carrying with him allthat he finds valuable, to baffle detection, by suggesting a robbery. Hewrapped everything he found worth taking in the napkin which was to haveserved him at dinner, and blowing out the candle, he fled, locking thedoor on the outside, and throwing the key into a ditch. And that isall. "

"M. Tabaret, " said the magistrate, "your investigation is admirable; andI am persuaded your inferences are correct. "

"Ah!" cried Lecoq, "is he not colossal, my old Tirauclair?"

"Pyramidal!" cried Gevrol ironically. "I fear, however, yourwell-dressed young man must have been just a little embarrassed incarrying a bundle covered with a snow white napkin, which could be soeasily seen from a distance. 

"He did not carry it a hundred leagues, " responded old Tabaret. "You maywell believe, that, to reach the railway station, he was not fool enoughto take the omnibus. No, he returned on foot by the shortest way, whichborders the river. Now on reaching the Seine, unless he is more knowingthan I take him to be, his first care was to throw this tell-tale bundleinto the water. "

"Do you believe so, M. Tirauclair?" asked Gevrol. 

"I don't mind making a bet on it; and the best evidence of my beliefis, that I have sent three men, under the surveillance of a gendarme, todrag the Seine at the nearest spot from here. If they succeed in findingthe bundle, I have promised them a recompense. "

"Out of your own pocket, old enthusiast?"

"Yes, M. Gevrol, out of my own pocket. "

"If they should however find this bundle!" murmured M. Daburon. 

He was interrupted by the entrance of a gendarme, who said: "Here is asoiled table-napkin, filled with plate, money, and jewels, which thesemen have found; they claim the hundred francs' reward, promised them. "

Old Tabaret took from his pocket-book a bank note, which he handed tothe gendarme. "Now, " demanded he, crushing Gevrol with one disdainfulglance, "what thinks the investigating magistrate after this?"

"That, thanks to your remarkable penetration, we shall discover--"

He did not finish. The doctor summoned to make the post-mortemexamination entered the room. That unpleasant task accomplished, itonly confirmed the assertions and conjectures of old Tabaret. The doctorexplained, as the old man had done, the position of the body. In hisopinion also, there had been a struggle. He pointed out a bluish circle, hardly perceptible, round the neck of the victim, produced apparentlyby the powerful grasp of the murderer; finally he declared that WidowLerouge had eaten about three hours before being struck. 

Nothing now remained except to collect the different objects which wouldbe useful for the prosecution, and might at a later period confoundthe culprit. Old Tabaret examined with extreme care the dead woman'sfinger-nails; and, using infinite precaution, he even extracted frombehind them several small particles of kid. The largest of these pieceswas not above the twenty-fifth part of an inch in length; but all thesame their colour was easily distinguishable. He put aside also the partof the dress upon which the assassin had wiped his weapon. These withthe bundle recovered from the Seine, and the different casts taken bythe old fellow, were all the traces the murderer had left behind him. 

It was not much; but this little was enormous in the eyes of M. Daburon;and he had strong hopes of discovering the culprit. The greatestobstacle to success in the unravelling of mysterious crimes is inmistaking the motive. If the researches take at the first step a falsedirection, they are diverted further and further from the truth, inproportion to the length they are followed. Thanks to old Tabaret, themagistrate felt confident that he was in the right path. 

Night had come on. M. Daburon had now nothing more to do at La Jonchere;but Gevrol, who still clung to his own opinion of the guilt of the manwith the rings in his ears, declared he would remain at Bougival. Hedetermined to employ the evening in visiting the different wine shops, and finding if possible new witnesses. At the moment of departure, afterthe commissary and the entire party had wished M. Daburon good-night, the latter asked M. Tabaret to accompany him. 

"I was about to solicit that honour, " replied the old fellow. They setout together; and naturally the crime which had been discovered, andwith which they were mutually preoccupied, formed the subject of theirconversation. 

"Shall we, or shall we not, ascertain the antecedents of this woman!"repeated old Tabaret. "All depends upon that now!"

"We shall ascertain them, if the grocer's wife has told the truth, "replied M. Daburon. "If the husband of Widow Lerouge was a sailor, andif her son Jacques is in the navy, the minister of marine can furnishinformation that will soon lead to their discovery. I will write to theminister this very night. "

They reached the station at Rueil, and took their places in the train. They were fortunate enough to secure a 1st class carriage to themselves. But old Tabaret was no longer disposed for conversation. He reflected, he sought, he combined; and in his face might easily be read the workingof his thoughts. M. Daburon watched him curiously and felt singularlyattracted by this eccentric old man, whose very original taste had ledhim to devote his services to the secret police of the Rue de Jerusalem. 

"M Tabaret, " he suddenly asked, "have you been long associated with thepolice?"

"Nine years, M. Daburon, more than nine years; and permit me to confessI am a little surprised that you have never before heard of me. "

"I certainly knew you by reputation, " answered M. Daburon; "but yourname did not occur to me, and it was only in consequence of hearing youpraised that I had the excellent idea of asking your assistance. But what, I should like to know, is your reason for adopting thisemployment?"

"Sorrow, sir, loneliness, weariness. Ah! I have not always been happy!"

"I have been told, though, that you are rich. "

The old fellow heaved a deep sigh, which revealed the most crueldeceptions. "I am well off, sir, " he replied; "but I have not alwaysbeen so. Until I was forty-five years old, my life was a series ofabsurd and useless privations. I had a father who wasted my youth, ruined my life, and made me the most pitiable of human creatures. "

There are men who can never divest themselves of their professionalhabits. M. Daburon was at all times and seasons more or less aninvestigating magistrate. 

"How, M. Tabaret, " he inquired, "your father the author of all yourmisfortunes?"

"Alas, yes, sir! I have forgiven him at last; but I used to curse himheartily. In the first transports of my resentment, I heaped upon hismemory all the insults that can be inspired by the most violent hatred, when I learnt, --But I will confide my history to you, M. Daburon. WhenI was five and twenty years of age. I was earning two thousand francs ayear, as a clerk at the Monte de Piete. One morning my father enteredmy lodging, and abruptly announced to me that he was ruined, and withoutfood or shelter. He appeared in despair, and talked of killing himself. I loved my father. Naturally, I strove to reassure him; I boasted of mysituation, and explained to him at some length, that, while I earnedthe means for living, he should want for nothing; and, to commence, Iinsisted that henceforth we should live together. No sooner said thandone, and during twenty years I was encumbered with the old--"

"What! you repent of your admirable conduct, M. Tabaret?"

"Do I repent of it! That is to say he deserved to be poisoned by thebread I gave him. "

M. Daburon was unable to repress a gesture of surprise, which did notescape the old fellow's notice. 

"Hear, before you condemn me, " he continued. "There was I attwenty-five, imposing upon myself the severest privations for the sakeof my father, --no more friends, no more flirtations, nothing. In theevenings, to augment our scanty revenues, I worked at copying lawpapers for a notary. I denied myself even the luxury of tobacco. Notwithstanding this, the old fellow complained without ceasing; heregretted his lost fortune; he must have pocket-money, with which tobuy this, or that; my utmost exertions failed to satisfy him. Ah, heavenalone knows what I suffered! I was not born to live alone and grow old, like a dog. I longed for the pleasures of a home and a family. My dreamwas to marry, to adore a good wife, by whom I might be loved a little, and to see innocent healthy little ones gambolling about my knees. Butpshaw! when such thoughts entered my heart and forced a tear or two frommy eyes, I rebelled against myself. I said: 'My lad, when you earn butthree thousand francs a year, and have an old and cherished father tosupport, it is your duty to stifle such desires, and remain a bachelor. 'And yet I met a young girl. It is thirty years now since that time;well! just look at me, I am sure I am blushing as red as a tomato. Her name was Hortense. Who can tell what has become of her? She wasbeautiful and poor. Well, I was quite an old man when my father died, the wretch, the--"

"M. Tabaret!" interrupted the magistrate, "for shame, M. Tabaret!"

"But I have already told you, I have forgiven him, sir. However, youwill soon understand my anger. On the day of his death, looking in hissecretary, I found a memorandum of an income of twenty thousand francs!"

"How so! was he rich?"

"Yes, very rich; for that was not all: he owned near Orleans a propertyleased for six thousand francs a year. He owned, besides, the house Inow live in, where we lived together; and I, fool, sot, imbecile, stupid animal that I was, used to pay the rent every three months to theconcierge!"

"That was too much!" M. Daburon could not help saying. 

"Was it not, sir? I was robbing myself of my own money! To crown hishypocrisy, he left a will wherein he declared, in the name of HolyTrinity, that he had no other aim in view, in thus acting, than my ownadvantage. He wished, so he wrote, to habituate me to habits of goodorder and economy, and keep me from the commission of follies. And I wasforty-five years old, and for twenty years I had been reproaching myselfif ever I spent a single sou uselessly. In short, he had speculated onmy good heart, he had . . . Bah! on my word, it is enough to disgust thehuman race with filial piety!"

M. Tabaret's anger, albeit very real and justified, was so highlyludicrous, that M. Daburon had much difficulty to restrain his laughter, in spite of the real sadness of the recital. 

"At least, " said he, "this fortune must have given you pleasure. "

"Not at all, sir, it came too late. Of what avail to have the bread whenone has no longer the teeth? The marriageable age had passed. I resignedmy situation, however, to make way for some one poorer than myself. Atthe end of a month I was sick and tired of life; and, to replace theaffections that had been denied me, I resolved to give myself a passion, a hobby, a mania. I became a collector of books. You think, sir, perhapsthat to take an interest in books a man must have studied, must belearned?"

"I know, dear M. Tabaret, that he must have money. I am acquainted withan illustrious bibliomaniac who may be able to read, but who is mostcertainly unable to sign his own name. "

"This is very likely. I, too, can read; and I read all the books Ibought. I collected all I could find which related, no matter howlittle, to the police. Memoirs, reports, pamphlets, speeches, letters, novels, --all suited me; and I devoured them. So much so, that little bylittle I became attracted towards the mysterious power which, from theobscurity of the Rue de Jerusalem, watches over and protects society, which penetrates everywhere, lifts the most impervious veils, seesthrough every plot, divines what is kept hidden, knows exactly thevalue of a man, the price of a conscience, and which accumulates in itsportfolios the most terrible, as well as the most shameful secrets! Inreading the memoirs of celebrated detectives, more attractive to methan the fables of our best authors I became inspired by an enthusiasticadmiration for those men, so keen scented, so subtle, flexible as steel, artful and penetrating, fertile in expedients, who follow crime onthe trail, armed with the law, through the rushwood of legality, asrelentlessly as the savages of Cooper pursue their enemies in the depthsof the American forests. The desire seized me to become a wheel of thisadmirable machine, --a small assistance in the punishment of crimeand the triumph of innocence. I made the essay; and I found I did notsucceed too badly. "

"And does this employment please you?"

"I owe to it, sir, my liveliest enjoyments. Adieu weariness! since Ihave abandoned the search for books to the search for men. I shrug myshoulders when I see a foolish fellow pay twenty-five francs for theright of hunting a hare. What a prize! Give me the hunting of a man!That, at least, calls the faculties into play, and the victory is notinglorious! The game in my sport is equal to the hunter; they bothpossess intelligence, strength, and cunning. The arms are nearly equal. Ah! if people but knew the excitement of these games of hide and seekwhich are played between the criminal and the detective, everybodywould be wanting employment at the office of the Rue de Jerusalem. Themisfortune is, that the art is becoming lost. Great crimes are now sorare. The race of strong fearless criminals has given place to the mobof vulgar pick-pockets. The few rascals who are heard of occasionallyare as cowardly as foolish. They sign their names to their misdeeds, andeven leave their cards lying about. There is no merit in catching them. Their crime found out, you have only to go and arrest them, --"

"It seems to me, though, " interrupted M. Daburon, smiling, "that ourassassin is not such a bungler. "

"He, sir, is an exception; and I shall have greater delight in trackinghim. I will do everything for that, I will even compromise myself ifnecessary. For I ought to confess, M. Daburon, " added he, slightlyembarrassed, "that I do not boast to my friends of my exploits; I evenconceal them as carefully as possible. They would perhaps shake handswith me less warmly did they know that Tirauclair and Tabaret were oneand the same. "

Insensibly the crime became again the subject of conversation. It wasagreed, that, the first thing in the morning, M. Tabaret should installhimself at Bougival. He boasted that in eight days he should examineall the people round about. On his side M. Daburon promised to keep himadvised of the least evidence that transpired, and recall him, if by anychance he should procure the papers of Widow Lerouge. 

"To you, M. Tabaret, " said the magistrate in conclusion, "I shall bealways at home. If you have any occasion to speak to me, do not hesitateto come at night as well as during the day. I rarely go out, and youwill always find me either at my home, Rue Jacob, or in my office at thePalais de Justice. I will give orders for your admittance whenever youpresent yourself. "

The train entered the station at this moment. M. Daburon, having calleda cab, offered a seat to M. Tabaret. The old fellow declined. 

"It is not worth while, " he replied, "for I live, as I have had thehonour of telling you, in the Rue St. Lazare, only a few steps fromhere. "

"Till to-morrow, then!" said M. Daburon. 

"Till to-morrow, " replied old Tabaret; and he added, "We shall succeed. "

CHAPTER III. 

M. Tabaret's house was in fact not more than four minutes' walk from therailway terminus of St. Lazare. It was a fine building carefully kept, and which probably yielded a fine income though the rents were not toohigh. The old fellow found plenty of room in it. He occupied on thefirst floor, overlooking the street, some handsome apartments, wellarranged and comfortably furnished, the principal of which was hiscollection of books. He lived very simply from taste, as well as habit, waited on by an old servant, to whom on great occasions the conciergelent a helping hand. 

No one in the house had the slightest suspicion of the avocations of theproprietor. Besides, even the humblest agent of police would be expectedto possess a degree of acuteness for which no one gave M. Tabaretcredit. Indeed, they mistook for incipient idiocy his continualabstraction of mind. 

It is true that all who knew him remarked the singularity of hishabits. His frequent absences from home had given to his proceedings anappearance at once eccentric and mysterious. Never was young libertinemore irregular in his habits than this old man. He came or failed tocome home to his meals, ate it mattered not what or when. He went outat every hour of the day and night, often slept abroad, and evendisappeared for entire weeks at a time. Then too he received thestrangest visitors, odd looking men of suspicious appearance, andfellows of ill-favoured and sinister aspect. 

This irregular way of living had robbed the old fellow of muchconsideration. Many believed they saw in him a shameless libertine, whosquandered his income in disreputable places. They would remark to oneanother, "Is it not disgraceful, a man of his age?"

He was aware of all this tittle-tattle, and laughed at it. This did not, however, prevent many of his tenants from seeking his society and payingcourt to him. They would invite him to dinner, but he almost invariablyrefused. 

He seldom visited but one person of the house, but with that one hewas very intimate, so much so indeed, that he was more often in herapartment, than in his own. She was a widow lady, who for fifteen yearshad occupied an apartment on the third floor. Her name was Madame Gerdy, and she lived with her son Noel, whom she adored. 

Noel Gerdy was a man thirty-three years of age, but looking older; talland well made, with a noble and intelligent face, large black eyes, andblack hair which curled naturally. An advocate, he passed for havinggreat talent, and greater industry, and had already gained a certainamount of notoriety. He was an obstinate worker, cold and meditative, though devoted to his profession, and affected, with some ostentation, perhaps, a great rigidity of principle, and austerity of manners. 

In Madame Gerdy's apartment, old Tabaret felt himself quite at home. Heconsidered her as a relation, and looked upon Noel as a son. In spiteof her fifty years, he had often thought of asking the hand of thischarming widow, and was restrained less by the fear of a refusal thanits consequence. To propose and to be rejected would sever the existingrelations, so pleasurable to him. However, he had by his will, whichwas deposited with his notary constituted this young advocate his solelegatee; with the single condition of founding an annual prize of twothousand francs to be bestowed on the police agent who during the yearhad unravelled the most obscure and mysterious crime. 

Short as was the distance to his house, old Tabaret was a good quarterof an hour in reaching it. On leaving M. Daburon his thoughts revertedto the scene of the murder; and, so blinded was the old fellow toexternal objects, that he moved along the street, first jostled on theright, then on the left, by the busy passers by, advancing one step andreceding two. He repeated to himself for the fiftieth time the wordsuttered by Widow Lerouge, as reported by the milk-woman. "If I wishedfor any more, I could have it. "

"All is in that, " murmured he. "Widow Lerouge possessed some importantsecret, which persons rich and powerful had the strongest motives forconcealing. She had them in her power, and that was her fortune. Shemade them sing to her tune; she probably went too far, and so theysuppressed her. But of what nature was this secret, and how did shebecome possessed of it? Most likely she was in her youth a servant insome great family; and whilst there, she saw, heard, or discovered, something--What? Evidently there is a woman at the bottom of it. Did sheassist her mistress in some love intrigue? What more probable? And inthat case the affair becomes even more complicated. Not only must thewoman be found but her lover also; for it is the lover who has moved inthis affair. He is, or I am greatly deceived, a man of noble birth. Aperson of inferior rank would have simply hired an assassin. This manhas not hung back; he himself has struck the blow and by that meansavoiding the indiscretion or the stupidity of an accomplice. He is acourageous rascal, full of audacity and coolness, for the crime hasbeen admirably executed. The fellow left nothing behind of a nature tocompromise him seriously. But for me, Gevrol, believing in the robbery, would have seen nothing. Fortunately, however, I was there. But yet itcan hardly be that, " continued the old man. "It must be something worsethan a mere love affair. "

Old Tabaret entered the porch of the house. The concierge seated by thewindow of his lodge saw him as he passed beneath the gas lamp. 

"Ah, " said he, "the proprietor has returned at last. "

"So he has, " replied his wife, "but it looks as though his princesswould have nothing to do with him to-night. He seems more loose thanever. "

"Is it not positively indecent, " said the concierge, "and isn't he ina state! His fair ones do treat him well! One of these fine mornings Ishall have to take him to a lunatic asylum in a straight waistcoat. "

"Look at him now!" interrupted his wife, "just look at him now, in themiddle of the courtyard!"

The old fellow had stopped at the extremity of the porch. He had takenoff his hat, and, while talking to himself, gesticulated violently. 

"No, " said he, "I have not yet got hold of the clue, I am getting nearit; but have not yet found it out. "

He mounted the staircase, and rang his bell, forgetting that he had hislatch-key in his pocket. His housekeeper opened the door. 

"What, is it you, sir, " said she, "and at this hour!"

"What's that you say?" asked the old fellow. 

"I say, " replied the housekeeper, "that it is more than half-past eighto'clock. I thought you were not coming back this evening. Have you atleast dined?"

"No, not yet. "

"Well, fortunately I have kept your dinner warm. You can sit down to itat once. "

Old Tabaret took his place at the table, and helped himself to soup, but mounting his hobby-horse again, he forgot to eat, and remained, hisspoon in the air, as though suddenly struck by an idea. 

"He is certainly touched in the head, " thought Manette, the housekeeper. "Look at that stupid expression. Who in his senses would lead the lifehe does?" She touched him on the shoulder, and bawled in his ear, as ifhe were deaf, --"You do not eat. Are you not hungry?"

"Yes, yes, " muttered he, trying mechanically to escape the voice thatsounded in his ears, "I am very hungry, for since the morning I havebeen obliged--" He interrupted himself, remaining with his mouth open, his eyes fixed on vacancy. 

"You were obliged--?" repeated Manette. 

"Thunder!" cried he, raising his clenched fists towards theceiling, --"heaven's thunder! I have it!"

His movement was so violent and sudden that the housekeeper was a littlealarmed, and retired to the further end of the dining-room, near thedoor. 

"Yes, " continued he, "it is certain there is a child!"

Manette approached him quickly. "A child?" she asked in astonishment. 

"What next!" cried he in a furious tone. "What are you doing there? Hasyour hardihood come to this that you pick up the words which escape me?Do me the pleasure to retire to your kitchen, and stay there until Icall you. "

"He is going crazy!" thought Manette, as she disappeared very quickly. 

Old Tabaret resumed his seat. He hastily swallowed his soup which wascompletely cold. "Why, " said he to himself, "did I not think of itbefore? Poor humanity! I am growing old, and my brain is worn out. Forit is clear as day; the circumstances all point to that conclusion. "

He rang the bell placed on the table beside him; the servant reappeared. 

"Bring the roast, " he said, "and leave me to myself. "

"Yes, " continued he furiously carving a leg of Presale mutton--"Yes, there is a child, and here is his history! The Widow Lerouge, when ayoung woman, is in the service of a great lady, immensely rich. Herhusband, a sailor, probably had departed on a long voyage. The lady hada lover--found herself enciente. She confided in the Widow Lerouge, and, with her assistance, accomplished a clandestine accouchement. "

He called again. 

"Manette, the dessert, and get out!"

Certainly such a master was unworthy of so excellent a cook as Manette. He would have been puzzled to say what he had eaten for diner, or evenwhat he was eating at this moment; it was a preserve of pears. 

"But what, " murmured he, "has become of the child? Has it beendestroyed? No; for the Widow Lerouge, an accomplice in an infanticide, would be no longer formidable. The child has been preserved, andconfided to the care of our widow, by whom it has been reared. They havebeen able to take the infant away from her, but not the proofs of itsbirth and its existence. Here is the opening. The father is the man ofthe fine carriage; the mother is the lady who came with the handsomeyoung man. Ha! ha! I can well believe the dear old dame wanted fornothing. She had a secret worth a farm in Brie. But the old lady wasextravagant; her expenses and her demands have increased year by year. Poor humanity! She has leaned upon the staff too heavily, and broken it. She has threatened. They have been frightened, and said, 'Let there bean end of this!' But who has charged himself with the commission? Thepapa? No; he is too old. By jupiter! The son, --the child himself! Hewould save his mother, the brave boy! He has slain the witness and burntthe proofs!"

Manette all this time, her ear to the keyhole, listened with all hersoul; from time to time she gleaned a word, an oath, the noise of a blowupon the table; but that was all. 

"For certain, " thought she, "his women are running in his head. "

Her curiosity overcame her prudence. Hearing no more, she ventured toopen the door a little way. The old fellow caught her in the very act. 

"Monsieur wants his coffee?" stammered she timidly. 

"Yes, you may bring it to me, " he answered. 

He attempted to swallow his coffee at a gulp, but scalded himself soseverely that the pain brought him suddenly from speculation to reality. 

"Thunder!" growled he; "but it is hot! Devil take the case! it has setme beside myself. They are right when they say I am too enthusiastic. But who amongst the whole lot of them could have, by the sole exerciseof observation and reason, established the whole history of theassassination? Certainly not Gevrol, poor man! Won't he feel vexed andhumiliated, being altogether out of it. Shall I seek M. Daburon? No, not yet. The night is necessary to me to sift to the bottom all theparticulars, and arrange my ideas systematically. But, on the otherhand, if I sit here all alone, this confounded case will keep me in afever of speculation, and as I have just eaten a great deal, I may getan attack of indigestion. My faith! I will call upon Madame Gerdy: shehas been ailing for some days past. I will have a chat with Noel, andthat will change the course of my ideas. "

He got up from the table, put on his overcoat, and took his hat andcane. 

"Are you going out, sir?" asked Manette. 

"Yes. "

"Shall you be late?"

"Possibly. "

"But you will return to-night?"

"I do not know. "

One minute later, M. Tabaret was ringing his friend's bell. 

Madame Gerdy lived in respectable style. She possessed sufficient forher wants; and her son's practice, already large, had made them almostrich. She lived very quietly, and with the exception of one or twofriends, whom Noel occasionally invited to dinner, received very fewvisitors. During more than fifteen years that M. Tabaret came familiarlyto the apartments, he had only met the cure of the parish, one of Noel'sold professors, and Madame Gerdy's brother, a retired colonel. Whenthese three visitors happened to call on the same evening, an eventsomewhat rare, they played at a round game called Boston; on otherevenings piquet or all-fours was the rule. Noel, however, seldomremained in the drawing-room, but shut himself up after dinner inhis study, which with his bedroom formed a separate apartment to hismother's, and immersed himself in his law papers. He was supposed towork far into the night. Often in winter his lamp was not extinguishedbefore dawn. 

Mother and son absolutely lived for one another, as all who knew themtook pleasure in repeating. They loved and honoured Noel for the carehe bestowed upon his mother, for his more than filial devotion, for thesacrifices which all supposed he made in living at his age like an oldman. 

The neighbours were in the habit of contrasting the conduct of thisexemplary young man with that of M. Tabaret, the incorrigible old rake, the hairless dangler. 

As for Madame Gerdy, she saw nothing but her son in all the world. Herlove had actually taken the form of worship. In Noel she believed shesaw united all the physical and moral perfections. To her he seemed of asuperior order to the rest of humanity. If he spoke, she was silent andlistened: his word was a command, his advice a decree of Providence. Tocare for her son, study his tastes, anticipate his wishes, was the soleaim of her life. She was a mother. 

"Is Madame Gerdy visible?" asked old Tabaret of the girl who opened thedoor; and, without waiting for an answer, he walked into the room likea man assured that his presence cannot be inopportune, and ought to beagreeable. 

A single candle lighted the drawing-room, which was not in itsaccustomed order. The small marble-top table, usually in the middle ofthe room, had been rolled into a corner. Madame Gerdy's large arm-chairwas near the window; a newspaper, all crumpled, lay before it on thecarpet. 

The amateur detective took in the whole at a glance. 

"Has any accident happened?" he asked of the girl. 

"Do not speak of it, sir: we have just had a fright! oh, such a fright!"

"What was it? tell me quickly!"

"You know that madame has been ailing for the last month. She has eatenI may say almost nothing. This morning, even, she said to me--"

"Yes, yes! but this evening?"

"After her dinner, madame went into the drawing-room as usual. She satdown and took up one of M. Noel's newspapers. Scarcely had she begun toread, when she uttered a great cry, --oh, a terrible cry! We hastened toher; madame had fallen on to the floor, as one dead. M. Noel raisedher in his arms, and carried her into her room. I wanted to fetch thedoctor, sir, but he said there was no need; he knew what was the matterwith her. "

"And how is she now?"

"She has come to her senses; that is to say, I suppose so; for M. Noelmade me leave the room. All that I do know is, that a little while agoshe was talking, and talking very loudly too, for I heard her. Ah, sir, it is all the same, very strange!"

"What is strange?"

"What I heard Madame Gerdy say to M. Noel. "

"Ah ha! my girl!" sneered old Tabaret; "so you listen at key-holes, doyou?"

"No, sir, I assure you; but madame cried out like one lost. She said, --"

"My girl!" interrupted old Tabaret severely, "one always hears wrongthrough key-holes. Ask Manette if that is not so. "

The poor girl, thoroughly confused, sought to excuse herself. 

"Enough, enough!" said the old man. "Return to your work: you need notdisturb M. Noel; I can wait for him very well here. "

And satisfied with the reproof he had administered, he picked up thenewspaper, and seated himself beside the fire, placing the candle nearhim so as to read with ease. A minute had scarcely elapsed when he inhis turn bounded in his chair, and stifled a cry of instinctive terrorand surprise. These were the first words that met his eye. 

"A horrible crime has plunged the village of La Jonchere inconsternation. A poor widow, named Lerouge, who enjoyed the generalesteem and love of the community, has been assassinated in her home. Theofficers of the law have made the usual preliminary investigations, andeverything leads us to believe that the police are already on the trackof the author of this dastardly crime. "

"Thunder!" said old Tabaret to himself, "can it be that Madame Gerdy?--"

The idea but flashed across his mind; he fell back into his chair, and, shrugging his shoulders, murmured, --

"Really this affair of La Jonchere is driving me out of my senses! Ican think of nothing but this Widow Lerouge. I shall be seeing her ineverything now. "

In the mean while, an uncontrollable curiosity made him peruse theentire newspaper. He found nothing with the exception of these lines, tojustify or explain even the slightest emotion. 

"It is an extremely singular coincidence, at the same time, " thoughtthe incorrigible police agent. Then, remarking that the newspaper wasslightly torn at the lower part, and crushed, as if by a convulsivegrasp, he repeated, --

"It is strange!"

At this moment the door of Madame Gerdy's room opened, and Noel appearedon the threshold. 

Without doubt the accident to his mother had greatly excited him; forhe was very pale and his countenance, ordinarily so calm, wore anexpression of profound sorrow. He appeared surprised to see old Tabaret. 

"Ah, my dear Noel!" cried the old fellow. "Calm my inquietude. How isyour mother?"

"Madame Gerdy is as well as can be expected. "

"Madame Gerdy!" repeated the old fellow with an air of astonishment; buthe continued, "It is plain you have been seriously alarmed. "

"In truth, " replied the advocate, seating himself, "I have experienced arude shock. "

Noel was making visibly the greatest efforts to appear calm, to listento the old fellow, and to answer him. Old Tabaret, as much disquieted onhis side, perceived nothing. 

"At least, my dear boy, " said he, "tell me how this happened?"

The young man hesitated a moment, as if consulting with himself. Nodoubt he was unprepared for this point blank question, and knew not whatanswer to make; at last he replied, --

"Madame Gerdy has suffered a severe shock in learning from a paragraphin this newspaper that a woman in whom she takes a strong interest hasbeen assassinated. "

"Ah!" replied old Tabaret. 

The old fellow was in a fever of embarrassment. He wanted to questionNoel, but was restrained by the fear of revealing the secret of hisassociation with the police. Indeed he had almost betrayed himself bythe eagerness with which he exclaimed, --

"What! your mother knew the Widow Lerouge?"

By an effort he restrained himself, and with difficulty dissembled hissatisfaction; for he was delighted to find himself so unexpectedly onthe trace of the antecedents of the victim of La Jonchere. 

"She was, " continued Noel, "the slave of Madame Gerdy, devoted to her inevery way! She would have sacrificed herself for her at a sign from herhand. "

"Then you, my dear friend, you knew this poor woman!"

"I had not seen her for a very long time, " replied Noel, whose voiceseemed broken by emotion, "but I knew her well. I ought even to say Iloved her tenderly. She was my nurse. "

"She, this woman?" stammered old Tabaret. 

This time he was thunderstruck. Widow Lerouge Noel's nurse? He was mostunfortunate. Providence had evidently chosen him for its instrument, andwas leading him by the hand. He was about to obtain all the information, which half an hour ago he had almost despaired of procuring. He remainedseated before Noel amazed and speechless. Yet he understood, that, unless he would compromise himself, he must speak. 

"It is a great misfortune, " he murmured at last. 

"What it is for Madame Gerdy, I cannot say, " replied Noel with a gloomyair; "but, for me, it is an overwhelming misfortune! I am struck tothe heart by the blow which has slain this poor woman. Her death, M. Tabaret, has annihilated all my dreams of the future, and probablyoverthrown my most cherished hopes. I had to avenge myself for cruelinjuries; her death breaks the weapon in my hands, and reduces me todespair, to impotence. Alas! I am indeed unfortunate. "

"You unfortunate?" cried old Tabaret, singularly affected by his dearNoel's sadness. "In heaven's name, what has happened to you?"

"I suffer, " murmured the advocate, "and very cruelly. Not only do I fearthat the injustice is irreparable; but here am I totally without defencedelivered over to the shafts of calumny. I may be accused of inventingfalsehood, of being an ambitious intriguer, having no regard for truth, no scruples of conscience. "

Old Tabaret was puzzled. What connection could possibly exist betweenNoel's honour and the assassination at La Jonchere? His brain was ina whirl. A thousand troubled and confused ideas jostled one another ininextricable confusion. 

"Come, come, Noel, " said he, "compose yourself. Who would believe anycalumny uttered about you? Take courage, have you not friends? am Inot here? Have confidence, tell me what troubles you, and it will bestrange, indeed if between us two--"

The advocate started to his feet, impressed by a sudden resolution. 

"Well! yes, " interrupted he, "yes, you shall know all. In fact, I amtired of carrying all alone a secret that is stifling me. The part Ihave been playing irritates and wearies me. I have need of a friend toconsole me. I require a counsellor whose voice will encourage me, forone is a bad judge of his own cause, and this crime has plunged me intoan abyss of hesitations. "

"You know, " replied M. Tabaret kindly, "that I regard you as my own son. Do not scruple to let me serve you. "

"Know then, " commenced the advocate, --"but no, not here: what I have tosay must not be overheard. Let us go into my study. "

CHAPTER IV. 

When Noel and old Tabaret were seated face to face in Noel's study, andthe door had been carefully shut, the old fellow felt uneasy, and said:"What if your mother should require anything. "

"If Madame Gerdy rings, " replied the young man drily, "the servant willattend to her. "

This indifference, this cold disdain, amazed old Tabaret, accustomed ashe was to the affectionate relations always existing between mother andson. 

"For heaven's sake, Noel, " said he, "calm yourself. Do not allowyourself to be overcome by a feeling of irritation. You have, I see, some little pique against your mother, which you will have forgottento-morrow. Don't speak of her in this icy tone; but tell me what youmean by calling her Madame Gerdy?"

"What I mean?" rejoined the advocate in a hollow tone, --"what I mean?"

Then rising from his arm-chair, he took several strides about the room, and, returning to his place near the old fellow, said, --

"Because, M. Tabaret, Madame Gerdy is not my mother!"

This sentence fell like a heavy blow on the head of the amateurdetective. 

"Oh!" he said, in the tone one assumes when rejecting an absurdproposition, "do you really know what you are saying, Noel? Is itcredible? Is it probable?"

"It is improbable, " replied Noel with a peculiar emphasis which washabitual to him: "it is incredible, if you will; but yet it is true. That is to say, for thirty-three years, ever since my birth, this womanhas played a most marvellous and unworthy comedy, to ennoble and enrichher son, --for she has a son, --at my expense!"

"My friend, " commenced old Tabaret, who in the background of the picturepresented by this singular revelation saw again the phantom of themurdered Widow Lerouge. 

But Noel heard not, and seemed hardly in a state to hear. The young man, usually so cold, so self-contained, could no longer control his anger. At the sound of his own voice, he became more and more animated, as agood horse might at the jingling of his harness. 

"Was ever man, " continued he, "more cruelly deceived, more miserablyduped, than I have been! I, who loved this woman, who knew not how toshow my affection for her, who, for her sake, sacrificed my youth! Howshe must have laughed at me! Her infamy dates from the moment when forthe first time she took me on her knees; and, until these few days past, she has sustained without faltering her execrable role. Her love for mewas nothing but hypocrisy! her devotion, falsehood! her caresses, lies! And I adored her! Ah! why can I not take back all the embraces Ibestowed on her in exchange for her Judas kisses? And for what was allthis heroism of deception, this caution, this duplicity? To betray memore securely, to despoil me, to rob me, to give to her bastard allthat lawfully appertained to me; my name, a noble name, my fortune, aprincely inheritance!"

"We are getting near it!" thought old Tabaret, who was fast relapsinginto the colleague of M. Gevrol; then aloud he said, "This is veryserious, all that you have been saying, my dear Noel, terribly serious. We must believe Madame Gerdy possessed of an amount of audacity andability rarely to be met with in a woman. She must have been assisted, advised, compelled perhaps. Who have been her accomplices? She couldnever have managed this unaided; perhaps her husband himself. "

"Her husband!" interrupted the advocate, with a laugh. "Ah! you too havebelieved her a widow. Pshaw! She never had a husband, the defunct Gerdynever existed. I was a bastard, dear M. Tabaret, very much a bastard;Noel, son of the girl Gerdy and an unknown father!"

"Ah!" cried the old fellow; "that then was the reason why your marriagewith Mademoiselle Levernois was broken off four years ago?"

"Yes, my friend, that was the reason. And what misfortunes might havebeen averted by this marriage with a young girl whom I loved! HoweverI did not complain to her whom I then called my mother. She wept, sheaccused herself, she seemed ready to die of grief: and I, poor fool! Iconsoled her as best I could, I dried her tears, and excused her in herown eyes. No, there was no husband. Do such women as she have husbands?She was my father's mistress; and, on the day when he had had enough ofher, he took up his hat and threw her three hundred thousand francs, theprice of the pleasures she had given him. "

Noel would probably have continued much longer to pour forth his furiousdenunciations; but M. Tabaret stopped him. The old fellow felt he wason the point of learning a history in every way similar to that which hehad imagined; and his impatience to know whether he had guessed aright, almost caused him to forget to express any sympathy for his friend'smisfortunes. 

"My dear boy, " said he, "do not let us digress. You ask me for advice;and I am perhaps the best adviser you could have chosen. Come, then, to the point. How have you learned this? Have you any proofs? where arethey?"

The decided tone in which the old fellow spoke, should no doubt, haveawakened Noel's attention; but he did not notice it. He had not leisureto reflect. He therefore answered, --

"I have known the truth for three weeks past. I made the discovery bychance. I have important moral proofs; but they are mere presumptiveevidence. A word from Widow Lerouge, one single word, would haverendered them decisive. This word she cannot now pronounce, since theyhave killed her; but she had said it to me. Now, Madame Gerdy will denyall. I know her; with her head on the block, she will deny it. My fatherdoubtless will turn against me. I am certain, and I possess proofs; nowthis crime makes my certitude but a vain boast, and renders my proofsnull and void!"

"Explain it all to me, " said old Tabaret after a pause--"all, youunderstand. We old ones are sometimes able to give good advice. We willdecide what's to be done afterwards. "

"Three weeks ago, " commenced Noel, "searching for some old documents, I opened Madame Gerdy's secretary. Accidentally I displaced one of thesmall shelves: some papers tumbled out, and a packet of letters fell infront of my eyes. A mechanical impulse, which I cannot explain, promptedme to untie the string, and, impelled by an invincible curiosity, I readthe first letter which came to my hand. "

"You did wrong, " remarked M. Tabaret. 

"Be it so; anyhow I read. At the end of ten lines, I was convinced thatthese letters were from my father, whose name, Madame Gerdy, in spite ofmy prayers, had always hidden from me. You can understand my emotion. I carried off the packet, shut myself up in this room, and devoured thecorrespondence from beginning to end. "

"And you have been cruelly punished my poor boy!"

"It is true; but who in my position could have resisted? These lettershave given me great pain; but they afford the proof of what I just nowtold you. "

"You have at least preserved these letters?"

"I have them here, M. Tabaret, " replied Noel, "and, that you mayunderstand the case in which I have requested your advice, I am going toread them to you. "

The advocate opened one of the drawers of his bureau, pressed aninvisible spring, and from a hidden receptacle constructed in thethick upper shelf, he drew out a bundle of letters. "You understand, myfriend, " he resumed, "that I will spare you all insignificant details, which, however, add their own weight to the rest. I am only going todeal with the more important facts, treating directly of the affair. "

Old Tabaret nestled in his arm-chair, burning with curiosity; his faceand his eyes expressing the most anxious attention. After a selection, which he was some time in making, the advocate opened a letter, andcommenced reading in a voice which trembled at times, in spite of hisefforts to render it calm. 

"'My dearly loved Valerie, '--

"Valerie, " said he, "is Madame Gerdy. "

"I know, I know. Do not interrupt yourself. "

Noel then resumed. 

"'My dearly loved Valerie, "'This is a happy day. This morning I received your darling letter, Ihave covered it with kisses, I have re-read it a hundred times; and nowit has gone to join the others here upon my heart. This letter, oh, mylove! has nearly killed me with joy. You were not deceived, then; it wastrue! Heaven has blessed our love. We shall have a son. 

"'I shall have a son, the living image of my adored Valerie! Oh! why arewe separated by such an immense distance? Why have I not wings that Imight fly to your feet and fall into your arms, full of the sweetestvoluptuousness! No! never as at this moment have I cursed the fatalunion imposed upon me by an inexorable family, whom my tears could notmove. I cannot help hating this woman, who, in spite of me bears myname, innocent victim though she is of the barbarity of our parents. And, to complete my misery, she too will soon render me a father. Who can describe my sorrow when I compare the fortunes of these twochildren?

"'The one, the son of the object of my tenderest love, will have neitherfather nor family, nor even a name, since a law framed to make loversunhappy prevents my acknowledging him. While the other, the son ofmy detested wife, by the sole fact of his birth, will be rich, noble, surrounded by devotion and homage, with a great position in the world. I cannot bear the thought of this terrible injustice! How it is to beprevented, I do not know: but rest assured I shall find a way. It is tohim who is the most desired, the most cherished, the most beloved, thatthe greater fortune should come; and come to him it shall, for I so willit. '"

"From where is that letter dated?" asked old Tabaret. The style in whichit was written had already settled one point in his mind. 

"See, " replied Noel. He handed the letter to the old fellow, who read, --

"Venice, December, 1828. "

"You perceive, " resumed the advocate, "all the importance of this firstletter. It is like a brief statement of the facts. My father, married inspite of himself, adores his mistress, and detests his wife. Both findthemselves enceinte at the same time, and his feelings towards the twoinfants about to be born, are not at all concealed. Towards the end onealmost sees peeping forth the germ of the idea which later on he willnot be afraid to put into execution, in defiance of all law human ordivine!"

He was speaking as though pleading the cause, when old Tabaretinterrupted him. 

"It is not necessary to explain it, " said he. "Thank goodness, what youhave just read is explicit enough. I am not an adept in such matters, Iam as simple as a juryman; however I understand it admirably so far. "

"I pass over several letters, " continued Noel, "and I come to this onedated Jan. 23, 1829. It is very long, and filled with matters altogetherforeign to the subject which now occupies us. However, it containstwo passages, which attest the slow but steady growth of my father'sproject. 'A destiny, more powerful than my will, chains me to thiscountry; but my soul is with you, my Valerie! Without ceasing, mythoughts rest upon the adored pledge of our love which moves within you. Take care, my darling, take care of yourself, now doubly precious. Itis the lover, the father, who implores you. The last part of your letterwounds my heart. Is it not an insult to me, for you to express anxietyas to the future of our child! Oh heaven! she loves me, she knows me, and yet she doubts!'

"I skip, " said Noel, "two pages of passionate rhapsody, and stop atthese few lines at the end. 'The countess's condition causes her tosuffer very much! Unfortunate wife! I hate and at the same time pityher. She seems to divine the reason of my sadness and my coldness. Byher timid submission and unalterable sweetness, one would think shesought pardon for our unhappy union. Poor sacrificed creature! She alsomay have given her heart to another, before being dragged to the altar. Our fates would then be the same. Your good heart will pardon my pityingher. '

"That one was my mother, " cried the advocate in a trembling voice. "Asaint! And he asks pardon for the pity she inspires! Poor woman. "

He passed his hands over his eyes, as if to force back his tears, andadded, --

"She is dead!"

In spite of his impatience, old Tabaret dared not utter a word. Besideshe felt keenly the profound sorrow of his young friend, and respectedit. After a rather long silence, Noel raised his head, and returned tothe correspondence. 

"All the letters which follow, " said he, "carry traces of thepreoccupation of my father's mind on the subject of his bastard son. Ilay them, however, aside. But this is what strikes me in the one writtenfrom Rome, on March 5, 1829. 'My son, our son, that is my great, my onlyanxiety. How to secure for him the future position of which I dream?The nobles of former times were not worried in this way. In those daysI would have gone to the king, who, with a word, would have assuredthe child's position in the world. To-day, the king who governs withdifficulty his disaffected subjects can do nothing. The nobility haslost its rights, and the highest in the land are treated the same asthe meanest peasants!' Lower down I find, --'My heart loves to picture toitself the likeness of our son. He will have the spirit, the mind, thebeauty, the grace, all the fascinations of his mother. He will inheritfrom his father, pride, valour, and the sentiments of a noble race. Andthe other, what will he be like? I tremble to think of it. Hatred canonly engender a monster. Heaven reserves strength and beauty for thechildren of love!' The monster, that is I!" said the advocate, withintense rage. "Whilst the other--But let us ignore these preliminariesto an outrageous action. I only desired up to the present to show youthe aberration of my father's reason under the influence of his passion. We shall soon come to the point. "

M. Tabaret was astonished at the strength of this passion, of which Noelwas disturbing the ashes. Perhaps, he felt it all the more keenly onaccount of those expressions which recalled his own youth. He understoodhow irresistible must have been the strength of such a love and hetrembled to speculate as to the result. 

"Here is, " resumed Noel, holding up a sheet of paper, "not one of thoseinterminable epistles from which I have read you short extracts, but asimple billet. It is dated from Venice at the beginning of May; it isshort but nevertheless decisive; 'Dear Valerie, --Tell me, as near aspossible, the probable date of your confinement. I await your replywith an anxiety you would imagine, could you but guess my projects withregard to our child. '

"I do not know, " said Noel, "whether Madame Gerdy understood; anyhowshe must have answered at once, for this is what my father wrote on the14th: 'Your reply, my darling, is what I did not dare expect it to be. The project I had conceived is now practicable. I begin to feel morecalm and secure. Our son shall bear my name; I shall not be obliged toseparate myself from him. He shall be reared by my side, in my mansion, under my eyes, on my knees, in my arms. Shall I have strength enough tobear this excess of happiness? I have a soul for grief, shall I haveone for joy? Oh! my adored one, oh! my precious child, fear nothing, myheart is vast, enough to love you both! I set out to-morrow for Naples, from whence I shall write to you at length. Happen what may, however, though I should have to sacrifice the important interests confided tome, I shall be in Paris for the critical hour. My presence will doubleyour courage; the strength of my love will diminish your sufferings. '"

"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Noel, " said old Tabaret, "doyou know what important affairs detained your father abroad?"

"My father, my old friend, " replied the advocate, "was, in spite of hisyouth, one of the friends, one of the confidants, of Charles X. ; and hehad been entrusted by him with a secret mission to Italy. My father isCount Rheteau de Commarin. "

"Whew!" exclaimed the old fellow; and the better to engrave the nameupon his memory, he repeated several times, between his teeth, "Rheteaude Commarin. "

For a few minutes Noel remained silent. After having appeared to doeverything to control his resentment, he seemed utterly dejected, asthough he had formed the determination to attempt nothing to repair theinjury he had sustained. 

"In the middle of the month of May, then, " he continued, "my father isat Naples. It is whilst there, that he, a man of prudence and sense, a dignified diplomatist, a nobleman, prompted by an insensate passion, dares to confide to paper this most monstrous of projects. Listen!

"'My adored one, --

"'It is Germain, my old valet, who will hand you this letter. I amsending him to Normandy, charged with a commission of the most delicatenature. He is one of those servitors who may be trusted implicitly. 

"'The time has come for me to explain to you my projects respecting myson. In three weeks, at the latest, I shall be in Paris. 

"'If my previsions are not deceited, the countess and you will beconfined at the same time. An interval of three or four days will notalter my plan. This is what I have resolved. 

"'My two children will be entrusted to two nurses of Normandy, where myestates are nearly all situated. One of these women, known to Germain, and to whom I am sending him, will be in our interests. It is to thisperson, Valerie, that our son will be confided. These two women willleave Paris the same day, Germain accompanying her who will have chargeof the son of the countess. 

"'An accident, devised beforehand, will compel these two women to passone night on the road. Germain will arrange so they will have to sleepin the same inn, and in the same chamber! During the night, our nursewill change the infants in their cradles. 

"'I have foreseen everything, as I will explain to you, and everyprecaution has been taken to prevent our secret from escaping. Germainhas instructions to procure, while in Paris, two sets of baby linenexactly similar. Assist him with your advice. 

"'Your maternal heart, my sweet Valerie, may perhaps bleed at thethought of being deprived of the innocent caresses of your child. Youwill console yourself by thinking of the position secured to him by yoursacrifice. What excess of tenderness can serve him as powerfully as thisseparation? As to the other, I know your fond heart, you will cherishhim. Will it not be another proof of your love for me? Besides, he willhave nothing to complain of. Knowing nothing he will have nothing toregret; and all that money can secure in this world he shall have. 

"'Do not tell me that this attempt is criminal. No, my well beloved, no. The success of our plan depends upon so many unlikely circumstances, somany coincidences, independent of our will, that, without the evidentprotection of Providence, we cannot succeed. If, then, success crownsour efforts, it will be because heaven decreed it. 

"'Meanwhile I hope. '"

"Just what I expected, " murmured old Tabaret. 

"And the wretched man, " cried Noel, "dares to invoke the aid ofProvidence! He would make heaven his accomplice!"

"But, " asked the old fellow, "how did your mother, --pardon me, I wouldsay, how did Madame Gerdy receive this proposition?"

"She would appear to have rejected it, at first, for here are twentypages of eloquent persuasion from the count, urging her to agree to it, trying to convince her. Oh, that woman!"

"Come my child, " said M. Tabaret, softly, "try not to be too unjust. Youseem to direct all your resentment against Madame Gerdy? Really, in myopinion, the count is far more deserving of your anger than she is. "

"True, " interrupted Noel, with a certain degree of violence, --"true, the count is guilty, very guilty. He is the author of the infamousconspiracy, and yet I feel no hatred against him. He has committed acrime, but he has an excuse, his passion. Moreover, my father has notdeceived me, like this miserable woman, every hour of my life, duringthirty years. Besides, M. De Commarin has been so cruelly punished, that, at this present moment, I can only pardon and pity him. "

"Ah! so he has been punished?" interrogated the old fellow. 

"Yes, fearfully, as you will admit. But allow me to continue. Towardsthe end of May, or, rather, during the first days of June, the countmust have arrived in Paris, for the correspondence ceases. He saw MadameGerdy, and the final arrangements of the conspiracy were decided on. Here is a note which removes all uncertainty on that point. On the dayit was written, the count was on service at the Tuileries, and unableto leave his post. He has written it even in the king's study, on theking's paper; see the royal arms! The bargain has been concluded, andthe woman who has consented to become the instrument of my father'sprojects is in Paris. He informs his mistress of the fact. "

"'Dear Valerie, --Germain informs me of the arrival of your son's, ourson's nurse. She will call at your house during the day. She is to bedepended upon; a magnificent recompense ensures her discretion. Do not, however, mention our plans to her; for she has been given tounderstand that you know nothing. I wish to charge myself with the soleresponsibility of the deed; it is more prudent. This woman is a nativeof Normandy. She was born on our estate, almost in our house. Herhusband is a brave and honest sailor. Her name is Claudine Lerouge. 

"'Be of good courage, my dear love I am exacting from you the greatestsacrifice that a lover can hope for from a mother. Heaven, you can nolonger doubt it, protects us. Everything depends now upon our skill andour prudence, so that we are sure to succeed!'"

On one point, at least, M. Tabaret was sufficiently enlightened. Theresearches into the past life of widow Lerouge were no longer difficult. He could not restrain an exclamation of satisfaction, which passedunnoticed by Noel. 

"This note, " resumed the advocate, "closes the count's correspondencewith Madame Gerdy. "

"What!" exclaimed the old fellow, "you are in possession of nothingmore?"

"I have also ten lines, written many years later, which certainly havesome weight, but after all are only a moral proof. "

"What a misfortune!" murmured M. Tabaret. Noel laid on the bureau theletters he had held in his hand, and, turning towards his old friend, helooked at him steadily. 

"Suppose, " said he slowly and emphasising every syllable, --"suppose thatall my information ends here. We will admit, for a moment, that I knownothing more than you do now. What is your opinion?"

Old Tabaret remained some minutes without answering; he was estimatingthe probabilities resulting from M. De Commarin's letters. 

"For my own part, " said he at length, "I believe on my conscience thatyou are not Madame Gerdy's son. "

"And you are right!" answered the advocate forcibly. "You will easilybelieve, will you not, that I went and saw Claudine. She loved me, thispoor woman who had given me her milk, she suffered from the knowledgeof the injustice that had been done me. Must I say it, her complicity inthe matter weighed upon her conscience; it was a remorse too great forher old age. I saw her, I interrogated her, and she told me all. Thecount's scheme, simply and yet ingeniously conceived, succeeded withoutany effort. Three days after my birth, the crime was committed, and I, poor, helpless infant, was betrayed, despoiled and disinherited by mynatural protector, by my own father! Poor Claudine! She promised me hertestimony for the day on which I should reclaim my rights!"

"And she is gone, carrying her secret with her!" murmured the old fellowin a tone of regret. 

"Perhaps!" replied Noel, "for I have yet one hope. Claudine had in herpossession several letters which had been written to her a long timeago, some by the count, some by Madame Gerdy, letters both imprudentand explicit. They will be found, no doubt, and their evidence willbe decisive. I have held these letters in my hands, I have read them;Claudine particularly wished me to keep them, why did I not do so?"

No! there was no hope on that side, and old Tabaret knew so better thanany one. It was these very letters, no doubt, that the assassin of LaJonchere wanted. He had found them and had burnt them with the otherpapers, in the little stove. The old amateur detective was beginning tounderstand. 

"All the same, " said he, "from what I know of your affairs, which Ithink I know as well as my own, it appears to me that the count has notoverwell kept the dazzling promises of fortune he made Madame Gerdy onyour behalf. "

"He never even kept them in the least degree, my old friend. "

"That now, " cried the old fellow indignantly, "is even more infamousthan all the rest. "

"Do not accuse my father, " answered Noel gravely; "his connection withMadame Gerdy lasted a long time. I remember a haughty-looking man whoused sometimes to come and see me at school, and who could be no otherthan the count. But the rupture came. "

"Naturally, " sneered M. Tabaret, "a great nobleman--"

"Wait before judging, " interrupted the advocate. "M. De Commarin had hisreasons. His mistress was false to him, he learnt it, and cast heroff with just indignation. The ten lines which I mentioned to you werewritten then. "

Noel searched a considerable time among the papers scattered upon thetable, and at length selected a letter more faded and creased than theothers. Judging from the number of folds in the paper one could guessthat it had been read and re-read many times. The writing even was hereand there partly obliterated. 

"In this, " said he in a bitter tone, "Madame Gerdy is no longer theadored Valerie: 'A friend, cruel as all true friends, has opened myeyes. I doubted. You have been watched, and today, unhappily, I candoubt no more. You, Valerie, you to whom I have given more than my life, you deceive me and have been deceiving me for a long time past. Unhappyman that I am! I am no longer certain that I am the father of yourchild. '"

"But this note is a proof, " cried old Tabaret, "an overwhelming proof. Of what importance to the count would be a doubt of his paternity, hadhe not sacrificed his legitimate son to his bastard? Yes, you have saidtruly, his punishment has been severe. "

"Madame Gerdy, " resumed Noel, "wished to justify herself. She wrote tothe count; but he returned her letters unopened. She called on him, but he would not receive her. At length she grew tired of her uselessattempts to see him. She knew that all was well over when the count'ssteward brought her for me a legal settlement of fifteen thousand francsa year. The son had taken my place, and the mother had ruined me!"

Three or four light knocks at the door of the study interrupted Noel. 

"Who is there?" he asked, without stirring. 

"Sir, " answered the servant from the other side of the door, "madamewishes to speak to you. "

The advocate appeared to hesitate. 

"Go, my son, " advised M. Tabaret; "do not be merciless, only bigots havethat right. "

Noel arose with visible reluctance, and passed into Madame Gerdy'ssleeping apartment. 

"Poor boy!" thought M. Tabaret when left alone. "What a fatal discovery!and how he must feel it. Such a noble young man! such a brave heart!In his candid honesty he does not even suspect from whence the blow hasfallen. Fortunately I am shrewd enough for two, and it is just when hedespairs of justice, I am confident of obtaining it for him. Thanks tohis information, I am now on the track. A child might now divine whosehand struck the blow. But how has it happened? He will tell me withoutknowing it. Ah! if I had one of those letters for four and twenty hours. He has probably counted them. If I ask for one, I must acknowledge myconnection with the police. I had better take one, no matter which, justto verify the handwriting. "

Old Tabaret had just thrust one of the letters into the depths of hiscapacious pocket, when the advocate returned. 

He was one of those men of strongly formed character, who never losetheir self-control. He was very cunning and had long accustomed himselfto dissimulation, that indispensable armour of the ambitious. 

As he entered the room nothing in his manner betrayed what had takenplace between Madame Gerdy and himself. He was absolutely as calm as, when seated in his arm-chair, he listened to the interminable stories ofhis clients. 

"Well, " asked old Tabaret, "how is she now?"

"Worse, " answered Noel. "She is now delirious, and no longer knowswhat she says. She has just assailed me with the most atrocious abuse, upbraiding me as the vilest of mankind! I really believe she is goingout of her mind. "

"One might do so with less cause, " murmured M. Tabaret; "and I think youought to send for the doctor. "

"I have just done so. "

The advocate had resumed his seat before his bureau, and was rearrangingthe scattered letters according to their dates. He seemed to haveforgotten that he had asked his old friend's advice; nor did he appearin any way desirous of renewing the interrupted conversation. This wasnot at all what old Tabaret wanted. 

"The more I ponder over your history, my dear Noel, " he observed, "themore I am bewildered. I really do not know what resolution I shouldadopt, were I in your situation. "

"Yes, my old friend, " replied the advocate sadly, "it is a situationthat might well perplex even more profound experiences than yours. "

The old amateur detective repressed with difficulty the sly smile, whichfor an instant hovered about his lips. 

"I confess it humbly, " he said, taking pleasure in assuming an air ofintense simplicity, "but you, what have you done? Your first impulsemust have been to ask Madame Gerdy for an explanation. "

Noel made a startled movement, which passed unnoticed by old Tabaret, preoccupied as he was in trying to give the turn he desired to theconversation. 

"It was by that, " answered Noel, "that I began. "

"And what did she say?"

"What could she say! Was she not overwhelmed by the discovery?"

"What! did she not attempt to exculpate herself?" inquired the detectivegreatly surprised. 

"Yes! she attempted the impossible. She pretended she could explainthe correspondence. She told me . . . But can I remember what she said?Lies, absurd, infamous lies. "

The advocate had finished gathering up his letters, without noticing theabstraction. He tied them together carefully, and replaced them in thesecret drawer of his bureau. 

"Yes, " continued he, rising and walking backwards and forward acrosshis study, as if the constant movement could calm his anger, "yes, shepretended she could show me I was wrong. It was easy, was it not, withthe proofs I held against her? The fact is she adores her son, and herheart is breaking at the idea that he may be obliged to restitute whathe has stolen from me. And I, idiot, fool, coward, almost wished not tomention the matter to her. I said to myself, I will forgive, for afterall she has loved me! Loved? no. She would see me suffer the mosthorrible tortures, without shedding a tear, to prevent a single hairfalling from her son's head. "

"She has probably warned the count, " observed old Tabaret, stillpursuing his idea. 

"She may have tried, but cannot have succeeded, for the count has beenabsent from Paris for more than a month and is not expected to returnuntil the end of the week. "

"How do you know that?"

"I wished to see the count my father, to speak with him. "

"You?"

"Yes, I. Do you think that I shall not reclaim my own? Do you imaginethat I shall not raise my voice. On what account should I keep silent, who have I to consider? I have rights, and I will make them good. Whatdo you find surprising in that?"

"Nothing, certainly, my friend. So then you called at M. De Commarin'shouse?"

"Oh! I did not decide on doing so all at once, " continued Noel. "Atfirst my discovery almost drove me mad. Then I required time to reflect. A thousand opposing sentiments agitated me. At one moment, my furyblinded me; the next, my courage deserted me. I would, and I would not. I was undecided, uncertain, wild. The scandal that must arise from thepublicity of such an affair terrified me. I desired, I still desire torecover my name, that much is certain. But on the eve of recovering it, I wish to preserve it from stain. I was seeking a means of arrangingeverything, without noise, without scandal. "

"At length, however, you made up your mind?"

"Yes, after a struggle of fifteen days, fifteen days of torture, ofanguish! Ah! what I suffered in that time! I neglected my business, being totally unfit for work. During the day, I tried by incessantaction to fatigue my body, that at night I might find forgetfulnessin sleep. Vain hope! since I found these letters, I have not slept anhour. "

From time to time, old Tabaret slyly consulted his watch. "M. Daburonwill be in bed, " thought he. 

"At last one morning, " continued Noel, "after a night of rage, Idetermined to end all uncertainty. I was in that desperate state ofmind, in which the gambler, after successive losses, stakes upon a cardhis last remaining coin. I plucked up courage, sent for a cab, and wasdriven to the de Commarin mansion. "

The old amateur detective here allowed a sigh of satisfaction to escapehim. 

"It is one of the most magnificent houses, in the Faubourg St. Germain, my friend, a princely dwelling, worthy a great noble twenty timesmillionaire; almost a palace in fact. One enters at first a vastcourtyard, to the right and left of which are the stables, containingtwenty most valuable horses, and the coach-houses. At the end rises thegrand facade of the main building, majestic and severe, with its immensewindows, and its double flight of marble steps. Behind the house isa magnificent garden, I should say a park, shaded by the oldest treeswhich perhaps exist in all Paris. "

This enthusiastic description was not at all what M. Tabaret wanted. Butwhat could he do, how could he press Noel for the result of his visit!An indiscreet word might awaken the advocate's suspicions, and reveal tohim that he was speaking not to a friend, but to a detective. 

"Were you then shown over the house and grounds?" asked the old fellow. 

"No, but I have examined them alone. Since I discovered that I was theonly heir of the Rheteau de Commarin, I have found out the antecedentsof my new family. 

"Standing before the dwelling of my ancestors, " continued Noel, "youcannot comprehend the excess of my emotion. Here, said I, is the housein which I was born. This is the house in which I should have beenreared; and, above all, this is the spot where I should reign to-day, whereon I stand an outcast and a stranger, devoured by the sad andbitter memories, of which banished men have died. I compared mybrother's brilliant destinies with my sad and labourious career; and myindignation well nigh overmastered reason. The mad impulse stirred meto force the doors, to rush into the grand salon, and drive out theintruder, --the son of Madame Gerdy, --who had taken the place of theson of the Countess de Commarin! Out, usurper, out of this. I am masterhere. The propriety of legal means at once recurred to my distractedmind, however, and restrained me. Once more I stood before thehabitation of my fathers. How I love its old sculptures, its grand oldtrees, its shaded walls, worn by the feet of my poor mother! I loveall, even to the proud escutcheon, frowning above the principal doorway, flinging its defiance to the theories of this age of levellers. "

This last phrase conflicted so directly with the code of opinionshabitual to Noel, that old Tabaret was obliged to turn aside, to concealhis amusement. 

"Poor humanity!" thought he; "he is already the grand seigneur. "

"On presenting myself, " continued the advocate, "I demanded to see theCount de Commarin. A Swiss porter, in grand livery, answered, the countwas travelling, but that the viscount was at home. This ran counter tomy designs; but I was embarked; so I insisted on speaking to the son indefault of the father. The Swiss porter stared at me with astonishment. He had evidently seen me alight from a hired carriage, and sodeliberated for some moments as to whether I was not too insignificant aperson to have the honour of being admitted to visit the viscount. "

"But tell me, have you seen him?" asked old Tabaret, unable to restrainhis impatience. 

"Of course, immediately, " replied the advocate in a tone of bitterraillery. "Could the examination, think you, result otherwise than inmy favour? No. My white cravat and black costume produced their naturaleffect. The Swiss porter entrusted me to the guidance of a chasseur witha plumed hat, who, led me across the yard to a superb vestibule, wherefive or six footmen were lolling and gaping on their seats. One of thesegentlemen asked me to follow him. He led me up a spacious staircase, wide enough for a carriage to ascend, preceded me along an extensivepicture gallery, guided me across vast apartments, the furniture ofwhich was fading under its coverings, and finally delivered me into thehands of M. Albert's valet. That is the name by which Madame Gerdy's sonis known, that is to say, my name. "

"I understand, I understand. "

"I had passed an inspection; now I had to undergo an examination. Thevalet desired to be informed who I was, whence I came, what was myprofession, what I wanted and all the rest. I answered simply, that, quite unknown to the viscount, I desired five minutes' conversation withhim on a matter of importance. He left me, requesting me to sit down andwait. I had waited more than a quarter of an hour, when he reappeared. His master graciously deigned to receive me. "

It was easy to perceive that the advocate's reception rankled in hisbreast, and that he considered it an insult. He could not forgive Alberthis lackeys and his valet. He forgot the words of the illustrious duke, who said, "I pay my lackeys to be insolent, to save myself the troubleand ridicule of being so. " Old Tabaret was surprised at his youngfriend's display of bitterness, in speaking of these trivial details. 

"What narrow-mindedness, " thought he, "for a man of such intelligence!Can it be true that the arrogance of lackeys is the secret of thepeople's hatred of an amiable and polite aristocracy?"

"I was ushered into a small apartment, " continued Noel, "simplyfurnished, the only ornaments of which were weapons. These, rangedagainst the walls, were of all times and countries. Never have I seenin so small a space so many muskets, pistols, swords, sabres, and foils. One might have imagined himself in a fencing master's arsenal. "

The weapon used by Widow Lerouge's assassin naturally recurred to theold fellow's memory. 

"The viscount, " said Noel, speaking slowly, "was half lying on a divanwhen I entered. He was dressed in a velvet jacket and loose trousers ofthe same material, and had around his neck an immense white silk scarf. I do not cherish any resentment against this young man; he has never tohis knowledge injured me: he was in ignorance of our father's crime; Iam therefore able to speak of him with justice. He is handsome, bearshimself well, and nobly carries the name which does not belong to him. He is about my height, of the same dark complexion, and would resembleme, perhaps, if he did not wear a beard. Only he looks five or sixyears younger; but this is readily explained, he has neither worked, struggled, nor suffered. He is one of the fortunate ones who arrivewithout having to start, or who traverse life's road on such softcushions that they are never injured by the jolting of their carriage. On seeing me, he arose and saluted me graciously. "

"You must have been dreadfully excited, " remarked old Tabaret. 

"Less than I am at this moment. Fifteen preparatory days of mentaltorture exhausts one's emotions. I answered the question I saw uponhis lips. 'Sir, ' said I, 'you do not know me; but that is of littleconsequence. I come to you, charged with a very grave, a very sadmission, which touches the honour of the name you bear. ' Without doubthe did not believe me, for, in an impertinent tone, he asked me, 'Shallyou be long?' I answered simply, 'Yes. '"

"Pray, " interrupted old Tabaret, now become very attentive, "do not omita single detail; it may be very important, you understand. "

"The viscount, " continued Noel, "appeared very much put out. 'The factis, ' he explained, 'I had already disposed of my time. This is the hourat which I call on the young lady to whom I am engaged, Mademoiselled'Arlange. Can we not postpone this conversation?'"

"Good! another woman!" said the old fellow to himself. 

"I answered the viscount, that an explanation would admit of no delay;and, as I saw him prepare to dismiss me, I drew from my pocket thecount's correspondence, and presented one of the letters to him. Onrecognizing his father's handwriting, he became more tractable, declaredhimself at my service, and asked permission to write a word of apologyto the lady by whom he was expected. Having hastily written the notehe handed it to his valet, and ordered him to send at once to Madamed'Arlange, He then asked me to pass into the next room, which was hislibrary. "

"One word, " interrupted the old fellow; "was he troubled on seeing theletters?"

"Not the least in the world. After carefully closing the door, hepointed to a chair, seated himself, and said, 'Now, sir, explainyourself. ' I had had time to prepare myself for this interview whilstwaiting in the ante-room. I had decided to go straight to the point. 'Sir, ' said I, 'my mission is painful. The facts I am about to reveal toyou are incredible. I beg you, do not answer me until you have read theletters I have here. I beseech you, above all, to keep calm. ' He lookedat me with an air of extreme surprise, and answered, 'Speak! I can hearall. ' I stood up, and said, 'Sir, I must inform you that you are not thelegitimate son of M. De Commarin, as this correspondence will prove toyou. The legitimate son exists; and he it is who sends me. ' I kept myeyes on his while speaking, and I saw there a passing gleam of fury. For a moment I thought he was about to spring at my throat. He soonrecovered himself. 'The letters, ' said he in a short tone. I handed themto him. "

"How!" cried old Tabaret, "these letters, --the true ones? Howimprudent!"

"And why?"

"If he had--I don't know; but--" the old fellow hesitated. 

The advocate laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "I was there, "said he in a hollow tone; "and I promise you the letters were in nodanger. "

Noel's features assumed such an expression of ferocity that the oldfellow was almost afraid, and recoiled instinctively. "He would havekilled him, " thought he. 

"That which I have done for you this evening, my friend, " resumed theadvocate, "I did for the viscount. I obviated, at least for the moment, the necessity of reading all of these hundred and fifty-six letters. I told him only to stop at those marked with a cross, and to carefullyread the passages indicated with a red pencil. "

"It was an abridgment of his penance, " remarked old Tabaret. 

"He was seated, " continued Noel, "before a little table, too fragileeven to lean upon. I was standing with my back to the fireplace in whicha fire was burning. I followed his slightest movements; and I scannedhis features closely. Never in my life have I seen so sad a spectacle, nor shall I forget it, if I live for a thousand years. In less than fiveminutes his face changed to such an extent that his own valet would nothave recognized him. He held his handkerchief in his hand, with whichfrom time to time he mechanically wiped his lips. He grew paler andpaler, and his lips became as white as his handkerchief. Large drops ofsweat stood upon his forehead, and his eyes became dull and clouded, asif a film had covered them; but not an exclamation, not a sigh, not agroan, not even a gesture, escaped him. At one moment, I felt such pityfor him that I was almost on the point of snatching the letters from hishands, throwing them into the fire and taking him in my arms, crying, 'No, you are my brother! Forget all; let us remain as we are and loveone another!'"

M. Tabaret took Noel's hand, and pressed it. "Ah!" he said, "I recognisemy generous boy. "

"If I have not done this, my friend, it is because I thought to myself, 'Once these letters destroyed, would he recognise me as his brother?'"

"Ah! very true. "

"In about half an hour, he had finished reading; he arose, and facing medirectly, said, 'You are right, sir. If these letters are really writtenby my father, as I believe them to be, they distinctly prove that I amnot the son of the Countess de Commarin. ' I did not answer. 'Meanwhile, 'continued he, 'these are only presumptions. Are you possessed ofother proofs?' I expected, of course, a great many other objections. 'Germain, ' said I, 'can speak. ' He told me that Germain had been deadfor several years. Then I spoke of the nurse, Widow Lerouge--I explainedhow easily she could be found and questioned, adding that she lived atLa Jonchere. "

"And what said he, Noel, to this?" asked old Tabaret anxiously. 

"He remained silent at first, and appeared to reflect. All on a suddenhe struck his forehead, and said, 'I remember; I know her. I haveaccompanied my father to her house three times, and in my presence hegave her a considerable sum of money. ' I remarked to him that this wasyet another proof. He made no answer, but walked up and down the room. At length he turned towards me, saying, 'Sir, you know M. De Commarin'slegitimate son?' I answered: 'I am he. ' He bowed his head and murmured'I thought so. ' He then took my hand and added, 'Brother, I bear you noill will for this. '"

"It seems to me, " remarked old Tabaret, "that he might have left that toyou to say, and with more reason and justice. "

"No, my friend, for he is more ill-used than I. I have not been lowered, for I did not know, whilst he! . . . . "

The old police agent nodded his head, he had to hide his thoughts, andthey were stifling him. 

"At length, " resumed Noel, after a rather long pause, "I asked him whathe proposed doing. 'Listen, ' he said, 'I expect my father in about eightor ten days. You will allow me this delay. As soon as he returns I willhave an explanation with him, and justice shall be done. I give you myword of honour. Take back your letters and leave me to myself. This newshas utterly overwhelmed me. In a moment I lose everything: a greatname that I have always borne as worthily as possible, a magnificentposition, an immense fortune, and, more than all that, perhaps, thewoman who is dearer to me than life. In exchange, it is true, I shallfind a mother. We will console each other. And I will try, sir, to makeher forget you, for she must love you, and will miss you. '"

"Did he really say that?"

"Almost word for word. "

"Hypocrite!" growled the old fellow between his teeth. 

"What did you say?" asked Noel. 

"I say that he is a fine young man; and I shall be delighted to make hisacquaintance. "

"I did not show him the letter referring to the rupture, " addedNoel; "it is best that he should ignore Madame Gerdy's misconduct. Ivoluntarily deprived myself of this proof, rather than give him furtherpain. "

"And now?"

"What am I to do? I am waiting the count's return. I shall act morefreely after hearing what he has to say. Tomorrow I shall ask permissionto examine the papers belonging to Claudine. If I find the letters, I amsaved; if not, --but, as I have told you, I have formed no plan since Iheard of the assassination. Now, what do you advise?"

"The briefest counsel demands long reflection, " replied the old fellow, who was in haste to depart. "Alas! my poor boy, what worry you havehad!"

"Terrible! and, in addition, I have pecuniary embarrassments. "

"How! you who spend nothing?"

"I have entered into various engagements. Can I now make use of MadameGerdy's fortune, which I have hitherto used as my own? I think not. "

"You certainly ought not to. But listen! I am glad you have spoken ofthis; you can render me a service. 

"Very willingly. What is it?"

"I have, locked up in my secretary, twelve or fifteen thousand francs, which trouble me exceedingly. You see, I am old, and not very brave, ifany one heard I had this money--"

"I fear I cannot--" commenced the advocate. 

"Nonsense!" said the old fellow. "To-morrow I will give them to youto take care of. " But remembering he was about to put himself at M. Daburon's disposal, and that perhaps he might not be free on the morrow, he quickly added, "No, not to-morrow; but this very evening. Thisinfernal money shall not remain another night in my keeping. "

He hurried out, and presently reappeared, holding in his hand fifteennotes of a thousand francs each. "If that is not sufficient, " said he, handing them to Noel, "you can have more. "

"Anyhow, " replied the advocate, "I will give you a receipt for these. "

"Oh! never mind. Time enough to-morrow. "

"And if I die to-night?"

"Then, " said the old fellow to himself, thinking of his will, "I shallstill be your debtor. Good-night!" added he aloud. "You have asked myadvice, I shall require the night for reflection. At present my brain iswhirling; I must go into the air. If I go to bed now, I am sure to havea horrible nightmare. Come, my boy; patience and courage. Who knowswhether at this very hour Providence is not working for you?"

He went out, and Noel, leaving his door open, listened to the sound ofhis footsteps as he descended the stairs. Almost immediately the cry of, "Open, if you please, " and the banging of the door apprised him thatM. Tabaret had gone out. He waited a few minutes and refilled his lamp. Then he took a small packet from one of his bureau drawers, slippedinto his pocket the bank notes lent him by his old friend, and left hisstudy, the door of which he double-locked. On reaching the landing, hepaused. He listened intently as though the sound of Madame Gerdy's moanscould reach him where he stood. Hearing nothing, he descended the stairson tiptoe. A minute later, he was in the street. 

CHAPTER V. 

Included in Madame Gerdy's lease was a coach-house, which was used byher as a lumber room. Here were heaped together all the old rubbishof the household, broken pieces of furniture, utensils past service, articles become useless or cumbrous. It was also used to store theprovision of wood and coal for the winter. This old coach-house hada small door opening on the street, which had been in disuse for manyyears; but which Noel had had secretly repaired and provided with alock. He could thus enter or leave the house at any hour without theconcierge or any one else knowing. It was by this door that the advocatewent out, though not without using the utmost caution in openingand closing it. Once in the street, he stood still a moment, as ifhesitating which way to go. Then, he slowly proceeded in the directionof the St. Lazare railway station, when a cab happening to pass, hehailed it. "Rue du Faubourg Montmarte, at the corner of the Rue deProvence, " said Noel, entering the vehicle, "and drive quick. "

The advocate alighted at the spot named, and dismissed the cabman. Whenhe had seen him drive off, Noel turned into the Rue de Provence, and, after walking a few yards, rang the bell of one of the handsomest housesin the street. The door was immediately opened. As Noel passedbefore him the concierge made a most respectful, and at the same timepatronizing bow, one of those salutations which Parisian conciergesreserve for their favorite tenants, generous mortals always ready togive. On reaching the second floor, the advocate paused, drew a key fromhis pocket, and opening the door facing him, entered as if at home. Butat the sound of the key in the lock, though very faint, a lady's maid, rather young and pretty, with a bold pair of eyes, ran toward him. 

"Ah! it is you, sir, " cried she. 

This exclamation escaped her just loud enough to be audible at theextremity of the apartment, and serve as a signal if needed. It was asif she had cried, "Take care!"

Noel did not seem to notice it. "Madame is there?" asked he. 

"Yes, sir, and very angry too. This morning she wanted to send some oneto you. A little while ago she spoke of going to find you, sir, herself. I have had much difficulty in prevailing on her not to disobey yourorders. "

"Very well, " said the advocate. 

"Madame is in the smoking room, " continued the girl "I am making her acup of tea. Will you have one, sir?"

"Yes, " replied Noel. "Show me a light, Charlotte. "

He passed successively through a magnificent dining-room, a splendidgilded drawing-room in Louis XIV. Style, and entered the smoking-room. This was a rather large apartment with a very high ceiling. Once insideone might almost fancy oneself three thousand miles from Paris, inthe house of some opulent mandarin of the celestial Empire. Furniture, carpet, hangings, pictures, all had evidently been imported direct fromHong Kong or Shanghai. A rich silk tapestry representing brilliantlycoloured figures, covered the walls, and hid the doors from view. All the empire of the sun and moon was depicted thereon in vermillionlandscapes: corpulent mandarins surrounded by their lantern-bearers;learned men lay stupefied with opium, sleeping under their parasols;young girls with elevated eyebrows, stumbled upon their diminutive feetswathed in bandages. The carpet of a manufacture unknown to Europeans, was strewn with fruits and flowers, so true to nature that they mighthave deceived a bee. Some great artist of Pekin had painted on the silkwhich covered the ceiling numerous fantastic birds, opening on azureground their wings of purple and gold. Slender rods of lacquer, inlaidwith mother of pearl, bordered the draperies, and marked the angles ofthe apartment. Two fantastic looking chests entirely occupied one sideof the room. Articles of furniture of capricious and incoherent forms, tables with porcelain tops, and chiffoniers of precious woods encumberedevery recess or angle. There were also ornamental cabinets and shelvespurchased of Lien-Tsi, the Tahan of Sou-Tcheou, the artistic city, anda thousand curiosities, both miscellaneous and costly, from the ivorysticks which are used instead of forks, to the porcelain teacups, thinner than soap bubbles, --miracles of the reign of Kien-Loung. A verylarge and very low divan piled up with cushions, covered with tapestrysimilar to the hangings, occupied one end of the room. There was noregular window, but instead a large single pane of glass, fixed into thewall of the house; in front of it was a double glass door with moveablepanes, and the space between was filled with the most rare flowers. Thegrate was replaced by registers adroitly concealed, which maintainedin the apartment a temperature fit for hatching silkworms, thus trulyharmonising with the furniture. 

When Noel entered, a woman, still young, was reclining on the divan, smoking a cigarette. In spite of the tropical heat, she was envelopedin heavy Cashmere shawls. She was small, but then only small women canunite in their persons every perfection. Women who are above the mediumheight must be either essays, or errors of nature. No matter how lovelythey may look, they invariably present some defect, like the work of astatuary, who, though possessed of genius, attempts for the first timesculpture on a grand scale. She was small, but her neck, her shoulders, and her arms had the most exquisite contours. Her hands with theirtapering fingers and rosy nails looked like jewels preciously cared for. Her feet, encased in silken stockings almost as thin as a spider's-web, were a marvel; not that they recalled the very fabulous foot whichCinderella thrust into the glass slipper; but the other, very real, verycelebrated and very palpable foot, of which the fair owner (the lovelywife of a well-known banker) used to present the model either in bronzeor in marble to her numerous admirers. Her face was, not beautiful, noreven pretty; but her features were such as one seldom forgets; for, atthe first glance, they startled the beholder like a flash of lightning. Her forehead was a little high, and her mouth unmistakably large, notwithstanding the provoking freshness of her lips. Her eyebrows wereso perfect they seem to have been drawn with India ink; but, unhappilythe pencil had been used too heavily; and they gave her an unpleasantexpression when she frowned. On the other hand, her smooth complexionhad a rich golden pallor; and her black and velvety eyes possessedenormous magnetic power. Her teeth were of a pearly brilliancy andwhiteness, and her hair, of prodigious opulence, was black and fine, andglossy as a raven's wing. 

On perceiving Noel, as he pushed aside the silken hangings, she halfarose and leaned upon her elbow. "So you have come at last?" sheobserved in a tone of vexation; "you are very kind. "

The advocate felt almost suffocated by the oppressive temperature of theroom. "How warm it is!" said he; "it is enough to stifle one!"

"Do you find it so?" replied the young woman. "Well, I am actuallyshivering! It is true though, that I am very unwell. Waiting isunbearable to me, it acts upon my nerves; and I have been waiting foryou ever since yesterday. "

"It was quite impossible for me to come, " explained Noel, "quiteimpossible!"

"You knew, however, " continued the lady, "that to-day was my settlingday; and that I had several heavy accounts to settle. The tradesmen allcame, and I had not a half-penny to give them. The coachmaker sent hisbill, but there was no money. Then that old rascal Clergot, to whom Ihad given an acceptance for three thousand francs, came and kicked up afrightful row. How pleasant all this is!"

Noel bowed his head like a schoolboy rebuked for having neglected hislessons. "It is but one day behind, " he murmured. 

"And that is nothing, is it?" retorted the young woman. "A manwho respects himself, my friend, may allow his own signature to bedishonoured, but never that of his mistress! Do you wish to destroymy credit altogether? You know very well that the only consideration Ireceive is what my money pays for. So as soon as I am unable to pay, itwill be all up with me. "

"My dear Juliette, " began the advocate gently. 

"Oh, yes! that's all very fine, " interrupted she. "Your dear Juliette!your adored Juliette! so long as you are here it is really charming;but no sooner are you outside than you forget everything. Do you everremember then that there is such a person as Juliette?"

"How unjust you are!" replied Noel. "Do you not know that I am alwaysthinking of you; have I not proved it to you a thousand times? Lookhere! I am going to prove it to you again this very instant. " Hewithdrew from his pocket the small packet he had taken out of his bureaudrawer, and, undoing it, showed her a handsome velvet casket. "Here, "said he exultingly, "is the bracelet you longed for so much a week agoat Beaugrau's. "

Madame Juliette, without rising, held out her hand to take the casket, and, opening it with the utmost indifference, just glanced at the jewel, and merely said, "Ah!"

"Is this the one you wanted?" asked Noel. 

"Yes, but it looked much prettier in the shop window. " She closed thecasket, and threw it carelessly on to a small table near her. 

"I am unfortunate this evening, " said the advocate, much mortified. 

"How so?"

"I see plainly the bracelet does not please you. "

"Oh, but it does. I think it lovely . . . Besides, it will complete thetwo dozen. "

It was now Noel's turn to say: "Ah! . . . " and as Juliette said nothing, he added: "Well, if you are pleased, you do not show it. "

"Oh! so that is what you are driving at!" cried the lady. "I am notgrateful enough to suit you! You bring me a present, and I ought at onceto pay cash, fill the house with cries of joy, and throw myself upon myknees before you, calling you a great and magnificent lord!"

Noel was unable this time to restrain a gesture of impatience, whichJuliette perceived plainly enough, to her great delight. 

"Would that be sufficient?" continued she. "Shall I call Charlotte, so that she may admire this superb bracelet, this monument of yourgenerosity? Shall I have the concierge up, and call the cook to tellthem how happy I am to possess such a magnificent lover. "

The advocate shrugged his shoulders like a philosopher, incapable ofnoticing a child's banter. "What is the use of these insulting jests?"said he. "If you have any real complaint against me, better to say sosimply and seriously. "

"Very well, " said Juliette, "let us be serious. And, that being so, Iwill tell you it would have been better to have forgotten the bracelet, and to have brought me last night or this morning the eight thousandfrancs I wanted. "

"I could not come. "

"You should have sent them; messengers are still to be found at thestreet-corners. "

"If I neither brought nor sent them, my dear Juliette, it was because Idid not have them. I had trouble enough in getting them promised me forto-morrow. If I have the sum this evening, I owe it to a chance uponwhich I could not have counted an hour ago; but by which I profited, atthe risk of compromising myself. "

"Poor man!" said Juliette, with an ironical touch of pity in hervoice. "Do you dare to tell me you have had difficulty in obtaining tenthousand francs, --you?"

"Yes, --I!"

The young woman looked at her lover, and burst into a fit of laughter. "You are really superb when you act the poor young man!" said she. 

"I am not acting. "

"So you say, my own. But I see what you are aiming at. This amiableconfession is the preface. To-morrow you will declare that your affairsare very much embarrassed, and the day after to-morrow . . . Ah! you arebecoming very avaricious. It is a virtue you used not to possess. Do younot already regret the money you have given me?"

"Wretched woman!" murmured Noel, fast losing patience. 

"Really, " continued the lady, "I pity you, oh! so much. Unfortunatelover! Shall I get up a subscription for you? In your place, I wouldappeal to public charity. "

Noel could stand it no longer, in spite of his resolution to remaincalm. "You think it a laughing matter?" cried he. "Well! let me tellyou, Juliette, I am ruined, and I have exhausted my last resources! I amreduced to expedients!"

The eyes of the young woman brightened. She looked at her lovertenderly. "Oh, if 'twas only true, my big pet!" said she. "If I onlycould believe you!"

The advocate was wounded to the heart. "She believes me, " thought he;"and she is glad. She detests me. "

He was mistaken. The idea that a man had loved her sufficiently to ruinhimself for her, without allowing even a reproach to escape him, filledthis woman with joy. She felt herself on the point of loving the man, now poor and humbled, whom she had despised when rich and proud. But theexpression of her eyes suddenly changed, "What a fool I am, " cried she, "I was on the point of believing all that, and of trying to consoleyou. Don't pretend that you are one of those gentlemen who scatter theirmoney broadcast. Tell that to somebody else, my friend! All men in ourdays calculate like money-lenders. There are only a few fools who ruinthemselves now, some conceited youngsters, and occasionally an amorousold dotard. Well, you are a very calm, very grave, and very seriousfellow, but above all, a very strong one. "

"Not with you, anyhow, " murmured Noel. 

"Come now, stop that nonsense! You know very well what you are about. Instead of a heart, you have a great big double zero, just like aHomburg. When you took a fancy to me, you said to yourself, 'I willexpend so much on passion, ' and you have kept your word. It is aninvestment, like any other, in which one receives interest in the formof pleasure. You are capable of all the extravagance in the world, tothe extent of your fixed price of four thousand francs a month! If itrequired a franc more you would very soon take back your heart andyour hat, and carry them elsewhere; to one or other of my rivals in theneighborhood. "

"It is true, " answered the advocate, coolly. "I know how to count, andthat accomplishment is very useful to me. It enables me to know exactlyhow and where I have got rid of my fortune. "

"So you really know?" sneered Juliette. 

"And I can tell you, madam, " continued he. "At first you were not veryexacting, but the appetite came with eating. You wished for luxury, you have it; splendid furniture, you have it; a complete establishment, extravagant dresses, I could refuse you nothing. You required acarriage, a horse, I gave them you. And I do not mention a thousandother whims. I include neither this Chinese cabinet nor the two dozenbracelets. The total is four hundred thousand francs!"

"Are you sure?"

"As one can be who has had that amount, and has it no longer. "

"Four hundred thousand francs, only fancy! Are there no centimes?"

"No. "

"Then, my dear friend, if I make up my bill, you will still owe mesomething. "

The entrance of the maid with the tea-tray interrupted this amorousduet, of which Noel had experienced more than one repetition. Theadvocate held his tongue on account of the servant. Juliette did thesame on account of her lover, for she had no secrets from Charlotte, whohad been with her three years, and with whom she had shared everything, sometimes even her lovers. 

Madame Juliette Chaffour was a Parisienne. She was born about 1839, somewhere in the upper end of the Faubourg Montmarte. Her father wasunknown. Her infancy was a long alternation of beatings and caresses, equally furious. She had lived as best she could, on sweetmeats anddamaged fruit; so that now her stomach could stand anything. At twelveyears old she was as thin as a nail, as green as a June apple, and moredepraved than the inmates of the prison of St. Lazare. Prudhomme wouldhave said that this precocious little hussy was totally destitute ofmorality. She had not the slightest idea what morality was. She thoughtthe world was full of honest people living like her mother, and hermother's friends. She feared neither God nor devil, but she was afraidof the police. She dreaded also certain mysterious and cruel persons, whom she had heard spoken of, who dwell near the Palais de Justice, andwho experience a malicious pleasure in seeing pretty girls in trouble. As she gave no promise of beauty, she was on the point of being placedin a shop, when an old and respectable gentleman, who had known hermamma some years previously, accorded her his protection. Thisold gentleman, prudent and provident like all old gentlemen, was aconnoisseur, and knew that to reap one must sow. He resolved first ofall to give his protege just a varnish of education. He procured mastersfor her, who in less than three years taught her to write, to play thepiano, and to dance. What he did not procure her, however, was a lover. She therefore found one for herself, an artist who taught her nothingvery new, but who carried her off to offer her half of what hepossessed, that is to say nothing. At the end of three months, havinghad enough of it, she left the nest of her first love, with all shepossessed tied up in a cotton pocket handkerchief. 

During the four years which followed, she led a precarious existence, sometimes with little else to live upon but hope, which never whollyabandons a young girl who knows she has pretty eyes. By turns she sunkto the bottom, or rose to the surface of the stream in which she foundherself. Twice had fortune in new gloves come knocking at her door, butshe had not the sense to keep her. With the assistance of a strollingplayer, she had just appeared on the stage of a small theatre, andspoken her lines rather well, when Noel by chance met her, loved her, and made her his mistress. Her advocate, as she called him, did notdisplease her at first. After a few months, though, she could not bearhim. She detested him for his polite and polished manners, his manlybearing, his distinguished air, his contempt, which he did not careto hide, for all that is low and vulgar, and, above all, for hisunalterable patience, which nothing could tire. Her great complaintagainst him was that he was not at all funny, and also, that heabsolutely declined to conduct her to those places where one can givea free vent to one's spirits. To amuse herself, she began to squandermoney; and her aversion for her lover increased at the same rate as herambition and his sacrifices. She rendered him the most miserable of men, and treated him like a dog; and this not from any natural badness ofdisposition, but from principle. She was persuaded that a woman isbeloved in proportion to the trouble she causes and the mischief shedoes. 

Juliette was not wicked, and she believed she had much to complain of. The dream of her life was to be loved in a way which she felt, but couldscarcely have explained. She had never been to her lovers more than aplaything. She understood this; and, as she was naturally proud, theidea enraged her. She dreamed of a man who would be devoted enough tomake a real sacrifice for her, a lover who would descend to her level, instead of attempting to raise her to his. She despaired of ever meetingsuch a one. Noel's extravagance left her as cold as ice. She believed hewas very rich, and singularly, in spite of her greediness, she didnot care much for money. Noel would have won her easier by a brutalfrankness that would have shown her clearly his situation. He lost herlove by the delicacy of his dissimulation, that left her ignorant of thesacrifices he was making for her. 

Noel adored Juliette. Until the fatal day he saw her, he had lived likea sage. This, his first passion, burned him up; and, from the disaster, he saved only appearances. 

The four walls remained standing, but the interior of the edifice wasdestroyed. Even heroes have their vulnerable parts, Achilles died froma wound in the heel. The most artfully constructed armour has a flawsomewhere. Noel was assailable by means of Juliette, and through herwas at the mercy of everything and every one. In four years, thismodel young man, this advocate of immaculate reputation, this austeremoralist, had squandered not only his own fortune on her, but MadameGerdy's also. He loved her madly, without reflection, without measure, with his eyes shut. At her side, he forgot all prudence, and thought outloud. In her boudoir, he dropped his mask of habitual dissimulation, andhis vices displayed themselves, at ease, as his limbs in a bath. He felthimself so powerless against her, that he never essayed to struggle. Shepossessed him. Once or twice he attempted to firmly oppose her ruinouscaprices; but she had made him pliable as the osier. Under the darkglances of this girl, his strongest resolutions melted more quickly thansnow beneath an April sun. She tortured him; but she had also the powerto make him forget all by a smile, a tear, or a kiss. Away from theenchantress, reason returned at intervals, and, in his lucid moments, he said to himself, "She does not love me. She is amusing herself atmy expense!" But the belief in her love had taken such deep root in hisheart that he could not pluck it forth. He made himself a monster ofjealousy, and then argued with himself respecting her fidelity. Onseveral occasions he had strong reasons to doubt her constancy, but henever had the courage to declare his suspicions. "If I am not mistaken, I shall either have to leave her, " thought he, "or accept everything inthe future. " At the idea of a separation from Juliette, he trembled, and felt his passion strong enough to compel him to submit to the lowestindignity. He preferred even these heartbreaking doubts to a still moredreadful certainty. 

The presence of the maid who took a considerable time in arranging thetea-table gave Noel an opportunity to recover himself. He looked atJuliette; and his anger took flight. Already he began to ask himself ifhe had not been a little cruel to her. When Charlotte retired, he cameand took a seat on the divan beside his mistress, and attempted to puthis arms round her. "Come, " said he in a caressing tone, "you have beenangry enough for this evening. If I have done wrong, you have punishedme sufficiently. Kiss me, and make it up. "

She repulsed him angrily, and said in a dry tone, --"Let me alone! Howmany times must I tell you that I am very unwell this evening. "

"You suffer, my love?" resumed the advocate, "where? Shall I send forthe doctor?"

"There is no need. I know the nature of my malady; it is called ennui. You are not at all the doctor who could do anything for me. "

Noel rose with a discouraged air, and took his place at the side of thetea-table, facing her. His resignation bespoke how habituated he hadbecome to these rebuffs. Juliette snubbed him; but he returned always, like the poor dog who lies in wait all day for the time when hiscaresses will not be inopportune. "You have told me very often duringthe last few months, that I bother you. What have I done?" he asked. 

"Nothing. "

"Well, then, why--?"

"My life is nothing more than a continual yawn, " answered the youngwoman; "is it my fault? Do you think it very amusing to be yourmistress? Look at yourself. Does there exist another being as sad, as dull as you, more uneasy, more suspicious, devoured by a greaterjealousy!"

"Your reception of me, my dear Juliette, " ventured Noel "is enough toextinguish gaiety and freeze all effusion. Then one always fears whenone loves!"

"Really! Then one should seek a woman to suit oneself, or have her madeto order; shut her up in the cellar, and have her brought upstairs oncea day, at the end of dinner, during dessert, or with the champagne justby way of amusement. "

"I should have done better not to have come, " murmured the advocate. 

"Of course. I am to remain alone here, without anything to occupy meexcept a cigarette and a stupid book, that I go to sleep over? Do youcall this an existence, never to budge out of the house even?"

"It is the life of all the respectable women that I know, " replied theadvocate drily. 

"Then I cannot compliment them on their enjoyment. Happily, though, Iam not a respectable woman, and I can tell you I am tired of livingmore closely shut up than the wife of a Turk, with your face for soleamusement. "

"You live shut up, you?"

"Certainly!" continued Juliette, with increased bitterness. "Come, haveyou ever brought one of your friends here? No, you hide me. Whenhave you offered me your arm for a walk? Never, your dignity would besullied, if you were seen in my company. I have a carriage. Have youentered it half a dozen times? Perhaps; but then you let down theblinds! I go out alone. I walk about alone!"

"Always the same refrain, " interrupted Noel, anger getting the better ofhim, "always these uncalled for complaints. As though you had still tolearn the reason why this state of things exists. "

"I know well enough, " pursued the young woman, "that you are ashamed ofme. Yet I know many bigger swells then you, who do not mind being seenwith their mistresses. My lord trembles for his fine name of Gerdy thatI might sully, while the sons of the most noble families are not afraidof showing themselves in public places in the company of the stupidestof kept women. "

At last Noel could stand it no longer, to the great delight of MadameChaffour. 

"Enough of these recriminations!" cried he, rising. "If I hide ourrelations, it is because I am constrained to do so. Of what do youcomplain? You have unrestrained liberty; and you use it, too, andso largely that your actions altogether escape me. You accuse me ofcreating a vacuum around you. Who is to blame? Did I grow tired of ahappy and quiet existence? My friends would have come to see us in ahome in accordance with a modest competence. Can I bring them here? Onseeing all this luxury, this insolent display of my folly, they wouldask each other where I obtained all the money I have spent on you. Imay have a mistress, but I have not the right to squander a fortune thatdoes not belong to me. If my acquaintances learnt to-morrow that it is Iwho keep you, my future prospects would be destroyed. What client wouldconfide his interests to the imbecile who ruined himself for the womanwho has been the talk of all Paris? I am not a great lord, I haveneither an historical name to tarnish, nor an immense fortune to lose. Iam plain Noel Gerdy, a advocate. My reputation is all that I possess. Itis a false one, I admit. Such as it is, however, I must keep it, and Iwill keep it. "

Juliette who knew her Noel thoroughly, saw that she had gone farenough. She determined, therefore, to put him in a good humor again. "Myfriend, " said she, tenderly, "I did not wish to cause you pain. You mustbe indulgent, I am so horribly nervous this evening. "

This sudden change delighted the advocate, and almost sufficed to calmhis anger. "You will drive me mad with your injustice, " said he. "WhileI exhaust my imagination to find what can be agreeable to you, you areperpetually attacking my gravity; yet it is not forty-eight hours sincewe were plunged in all the gaiety of the carnival. I kept the fete ofShrove Tuesday like a student. We went to a theatre; I then put on adomino, and accompanied you to the ball at the opera, and even invitedtwo of my friends to sup with us. "

"It was very gay indeed!" answered the young woman, making a wry face. 

"So I think. "

"Do you! Then you are not hard to please. We went to the Vaudeville, itis true, but separately, as we always do, I alone above, you below. Atthe ball you looked as though you were burying the devil. At the suppertable your friends were as melancholy as a pair of owls. I obeyed yourorders by affecting hardly to know you. You imbibed like a sponge, without my being able to tell whether you were drunk or not. "

"That proves, " interrupted Noel, "that we ought not to force our tastes. Let us talk of something else. "

He took a few steps in the room, then looking at his watch said: "Almostone o'clock; my love, I must leave you. "

"What! you are not going to remain?"

"No, to my great regret; my mother is dangerously ill. "

He unfolded and counted out on the table the bank notes he had receivedfrom old Tabaret. 

"My little Juliette, " said he, "here are not eight thousand francs, butten thousand. You will not see me again for a few days. "

"Are you leaving Paris, then?"

"No; but my entire time will be absorbed by an affair of immenseimportance to myself. If I succeed in my undertaking, my dear, ourfuture happiness is assured, and you will then see whether I love you!"

"Oh, my dear Noel, tell me what it is. "

"I cannot now. "

"Tell me I beseech you, " pleaded the young woman, hanging round hisneck, raising herself upon the tips of her toes to press her lips tohis. The advocate embraced her; and his resolution seemed to waver. 

"No, " said he at length, "seriously I cannot. Of what use to awaken inyou hopes which can never be realized? Now, my darling, listen to me. Whatever may happen, understand, you must under no pretext whateveragain come to my house, as you once had the imprudence to do. Do noteven write to me. By disobeying, you may do me an irreparable injury. Ifany accident occurs, send that old rascal Clergot to me. I shall havea visit from him the day after to-morrow, for he holds some bills ofmine. "

Juliette recoiled, menacing Noel with a mutinous gesture. "You will nottell me anything?" insisted she. 

"Not this evening, but very soon, " replied the advocate, embarrassed bythe piercing glance of his mistress. 

"Always some mystery!" cried Juliette, piqued at the want of successattending her blandishments. 

"This will be the last, I swear to you!"

"Noel, my good man, " said the young woman in a serious tone, "you arehiding something from me. I understand you, as you know; for severaldays past there has been something or other the matter with you, youhave completely changed. "

"I swear to you, Juliette--"

"No, swear nothing; I should not believe you. Only remember, no attemptat deceiving me, I forewarn you. I am a woman capable of revenge. "

The advocate was evidently ill at ease. "The affair in question, "stammered he, "can as well fail as succeed. "

"Enough, " interrupted Juliette; "your will shall be obeyed. I promisethat. Come, sir, kiss me. I am going to bed. "

The door was hardly shut upon Noel when Charlotte was installed on thedivan near her mistress. Had the advocate been listening at the door, he might have heard Madame Juliette saying, "No, really, I can no longerendure him. What a bore he is, my girl. Ah! if I was not so afraid ofhim, wouldn't I leave him at once? But he is capable of killing me!"

The girl vainly tried to defend Noel; but her mistress did not listen. She murmured, "Why does he absent himself, and what is he plotting? Anabsence of eight days is suspicious. Can he by any chance intend to bemarried? Ah! if I only knew. You weary me to death, my good Noel, and Iam determined to leave you to yourself one of these fine mornings; butI cannot permit you to quit me first. Supposing he is going to getmarried? But I will not allow it. I must make inquiries. "

Noel, however, was not listening at the door. He went along the Rue deProvence as quickly as possible, gained the Rue St. Lazare, and enteredthe house as he had departed, by the stable door. He had but just satdown in his study, when the servant knocked. 

"Sir, " cried she, "in heaven's name answer me!"

He opened the door and said impatiently, "What is it?"

"Sir, " stammered the girl in tears, "this is the third time I haveknocked, and you have not answered. Come, I implore you. I am afraidmadame is dying!"

He followed her to Madame Gerdy's room. He must have found the poorwoman terribly changed, for he could not restrain a movement of terror. The invalid struggled painfully beneath her coverings. Her face was ofa livid paleness, as though there was not a drop of blood left in herveins; and her eyes, which glittered with a sombre light, seemed filledwith a fine dust. Her hair, loose and disordered, falling over hercheeks and upon her shoulders, contributed to her wild appearance. She uttered from time to time a groan hardly audible, or murmuredunintelligible words. At times, a fiercer pang than the former onesforced a cry of anguish from her. She did not recognise Noel. 

"You see, sir, " said the servant. 

"Yes. Who would have supposed her malady could advance so rapidly?Quick, run to Dr. Herve's, tell him to get up, and to come at once, tellhim it is for me. " And he seated himself in an arm-chair, facing thesuffering woman. 

Dr. Herve was one of Noel's friends, an old school-fellow, and thecompanion of his student days. The doctor's history differed innothing from that of most young men, who, without fortune, friends, or influence, enter upon the practice of the most difficult, the mosthazardous of professions that exist in Paris, where one sees so manytalented young doctors forced, to earn their bread, to place themselvesat the disposition of infamous drug vendors. A man of remarkable courageand self-reliance, Herve, his studies over, said to himself, "No, I willnot go and bury myself in the country, I will remain in Paris, I willthere become celebrated. I shall be surgeon-in-chief of an hospital, anda knight of the Legion of Honour. "

To enter upon this path of thorns, leading to a magnificent triumphalarch, the future academician ran himself twenty thousand francs in debtto furnish a small apartment. Here, armed with a patience whichnothing could fatigue, an iron resolution that nothing could subdue, hestruggled and waited. Only those who have experienced it can understandwhat sufferings are endured by the poor, proud man, who waits in a blackcoat, freshly shaven, with smiling lips, while he is starving of hunger!The refinements of civilization have inaugurated punishments which putin the shade the cruelties of the savage. The unknown physician mustbegin by attending the poor who cannot pay him. Sometimes too thepatient is ungrateful. He is profuse in promises whilst in danger; but, when cured, he scorns the doctor, and forgets to pay him his fee. 

After seven years of heroic perseverance, Herve has secured at lasta circle of patients who pay him. During this he lived and paid theexorbitant interest of his debt, but he is getting on. Three or fourpamphlets, and a prize won without much intrigue, have attracted publicattention to him. But he is no longer the brave young enthusiast, fullof the faith and hope that attended him on his first visits. He stillwishes, and more than ever, to acquire distinction, but he no longerexpects any pleasure from his success. He used up that feeling in thedays when he had not wherewith to pay for his dinner. No matter howgreat his fortune may be in the days to come, he has already paid toodearly for it. For him future success is only a kind of revenge. Less than thirty-five years old, he is already sick of the world, andbelieves in nothing. Under the appearance of universal benevolence heconceals universal scorn. His finesse, sharpened by the grindstoneof adversity, has become mischievous. And, while he sees through alldisguises worn by others, he hides his penetration carefully under amask of cheerful good nature and jovialness. But he is kind, he loveshis friends, and is devoted to them. 

He arrived, hardly dressed, so great had been his haste. His first wordson entering were, "What is the matter?"

Noel pressed his hand in silence, and by way of answer, pointed to thebed. In less than a minute, the doctor seized the lamp, examined thesick woman, and returned to his friend. "What has happened?" he askedsharply. "It is necessary I should know. "

The advocate started at the question. "Know what?" stammered he. 

"Everything!" answered Herve. "She is suffering from inflammation of thebrain. There is no mistaking that. It is by no means a common complaint, in spite of the constant working of that organ. What can have causedit? There appears to be no injury to the brain or its bony covering, themischief, then, must have been caused by some violent emotion, a greatgrief, some unexpected catastrophe . . . "

Noel interrupted his friend by a gesture, and drew him into theembrasure of the window. "Yes, my friend, " said he in a low tone, "Madame Gerdy has experienced great mental suffering, she has beenfrightfully tortured by remorse. Listen, Herve. I will confide oursecret to your honour and your friendship. Madame Gerdy is not mymother; she despoiled me, to enrich her son with my fortune and my name. Three weeks ago I discovered this unworthy fraud; she knows it, andthe consequences terrify her. Ever since, she has been dying minute byminute. "

The advocate expected some exclamations of astonishment, and a hostof questions from his friend; but the doctor received the explanationwithout remark, as a simple statement, indispensable to hisunderstanding the case. 

"Three weeks, " he murmured; "then, that explains everything. Has sheappeared to suffer much during the time?"

"She complained of violent headaches, dimness of sight, and intolerablepains in her ears, she attributed all that though to megrims. Donot, however, conceal anything from me, Herve; is her complaint veryserious?"

"So serious, my friend, so invariably fatal, that I am almostundertaking a hopeless task in attempting a cure. "

"Ah! good heaven!"

"You asked for the truth, and I have told it you. If I had that courage, it was because you told me this poor woman is not your mother. Nothingshort of a miracle can save her; but this miracle we may hope andprepare for. And now to work!"

CHAPTER VI. 

The clock of the St. Lazare terminus was striking eleven as old Tabaret, after shaking hands with Noel, left his house, still bewildered by whathe had just heard. Obliged to restrain himself at the time, he now fullyappreciated his liberty of action. It was with an unsteady gait thathe took his first steps in the street, like the toper, who, after beingshut up in a warm room, suddenly goes out into the open air. He wasbeaming with pleasure, but at the same time felt rather giddy, from thatrapid succession of unexpected revelations, which, so he thought, hadsuddenly placed him in possession of the truth. 

Notwithstanding his haste to arrive at M. Daburon's he did not take acab. He felt the necessity of walking. He was one of those who requireexercise to see things clearly. When he moved about his ideas fitted andclassified themselves in his brain, like grains of wheat when shaken ina bushel. Without hastening his pace, he reached the Rue de la Chausseed'Antin, crossed the Boulevard with its resplendent cafes, and turned tothe Rue Richelieu. 

He walked along, unconscious of external objects, tripping and stumblingover the inequalities of the sidewalk, or slipping on the greasypavement. If he followed the proper road, it was a purely mechanicalimpulse that guided him. His mind was wandering at random through thefield of probabilities, and following in the darkness the mysteriousthread, the almost imperceptible end of which he had seized at LaJonchere. 

Like all persons labouring under strong emotion without knowing it, hetalked aloud, little thinking into what indiscreet ears his exclamationsand disjointed phrases might fall. At every step, we meet in Parispeople babbling to themselves, and unconsciously confiding to the fourwinds of heaven their dearest secrets, like cracked vases that allowtheir contents to steal away. Often the passers-by mistake theseeccentric monologuists for lunatics. Sometimes the curious follow them, and amuse themselves by receiving these strange confidences. It wasan indiscretion of this kind which told the ruin of Riscara the richbanker. Lambreth, the assassin of the Rue de Venise, betrayed himself ina similar manner. 

"What luck!" exclaimed old Tabaret. "What an incredible piece of goodfortune! Gevrol may dispute it if he likes, but after all, chance is thecleverest agent of the police. Who would have imagined such a history? Iwas not, however, very far from the reality. I guessed there was achild in the case. But who would have dreamed of a substitution?--an oldsensational effect, that playwrights no longer dare make use of. Thisis a striking example of the danger of following preconceived ideas inpolice investigation. We are affrighted at unlikelihood; and, as in thiscase, the greatest unlikelihood often proves to be the truth. Weretire before the absurd, and it is the absurd that we should examine. Everything is possible. I would not take a thousand crowns for whatI have learnt this evening. I shall kill two birds with one stone. Ideliver up the criminal; and I give Noel a hearty lift up to recover histitle and his fortune. There, at least; is one who deserves what he willget. For once I shall not be sorry to see a lad get on, who has beenbrought up in the school of adversity. But, pshaw! he will be like allthe rest. Prosperity will turn his brain. Already he begins to prate ofhis ancestors. . . . Poor humanity he almost made me laugh. . . . Butit is mother Gerdy who surprises me most. A woman to whom I would havegiven absolution without waiting to hear her confess. When I think thatI was on the point of proposing to her, ready to marry her! B-r-r-r!"

At this thought, the old fellow shivered. He saw himself married, andall on a sudden, discovering the antecedents of Madame Tabaret, becomingmixed up with a scandalous prosecution, compromised, and renderedridiculous. 

"When I think, " he continued, "that my worthy Gevrol is running afterthe man with the earrings! Run, my boy, run! Travel is a good thing foryouth. Won't he be vexed? He will wish me dead. But I don't care. If anyone wishes to do me an injury, M. Daburon will protect me. Ah! there isone to whom I am going to do a good turn. I can see him now, opening hiseyes like saucers, when I say to him, 'I have the rascal!' He can boastof owing me something. This investigation will bring him honour, orjustice is not justice. He will, at least, be made an officer of theLegion of Honour. So much the better! I like him. If he is asleep, I amgoing to give him an agreeable awaking. Won't he just overpower me withquestions! He will want to know everything at once. "

Old Tabaret, who was now crossing the Pont des Saints-Peres, stoppedsuddenly. "But the details!" said he. "By Jove! I have none. I only knowthe bare facts. " He resumed his walk, and continued, "They are rightat the office, I am too enthusiastic; I jump at conclusions, as Gevrolsays. When I was with Noel, I should have cross-examined him, got holdof a quantity of useful details; but I did not even think of doing so. I drank in his words. I would have had him tell the story in a sentence. All the same, it is but natural; when one is pursuing a stag, one doesnot stop to shoot a blackbird. But I see very well now, I did not drawhim out enough. On the other hand, by questioning him more, I might haveawakened suspicions in Noel's mind, and led him to discover that I amworking for the Rue de Jerusalem. To be sure, I do not blush for myconnection with the police, I am even vain of it; but at the same time, I prefer that no one should know of it. People are so stupid, thatthey detest the police, who protect them; I must be calm and on my bestbehaviour, for here I am at the end of my journey. "

M. Daburon had just gone to bed, but had given orders to his servant; sothat M. Tabaret had but to give his name, to be at once conducted to themagistrate's sleeping apartment. At sight of his amateur detective, M. Daburon raised himself in his bed, saying, "There is somethingextraordinary! What have you discovered? have you got a clue?"

"Better than that, " answered the old fellow, smiling with pleasure. 

"Speak quickly!"

"I know the culprit!"

Old Tabaret ought to have been satisfied; he certainly produced aneffect. The magistrate bounded in his bed. "Already!" said he. "Is itpossible?"

"I have the honour to repeat to you, sir, " resumed the old fellow, "thatI know the author of the crime of La Jonchere. "

"And I, " said M. Daburon, "I proclaim you the greatest of alldetectives, past or future. I shall certainly never hereafter undertakean investigation without your assistance. "

"You are too kind, sir. I have had little or nothing to do in thematter. The discovery is due to chance alone. "

"You are modest, M. Tabaret. Chance assists only the clever, and it isthat which annoys the stupid. But I beg you will be seated and proceed. "

Then with the lucidness and precision of which few would have believedhim capable, the old fellow repeated to the magistrate all that he hadlearned from Noel. He quoted from memory the extracts from the letters, almost without changing a word. 

"These letters, " added he, "I have seen; and I have even taken one, inorder to verify the writing. Here it is. "

"Yes, " murmured the magistrate--"Yes, M. Tabaret, you have discoveredthe criminal. The evidence is palpable, even to the blind. Heaven haswilled this. Crime engenders crime. The great sin of the father has madethe son an assassin. "

"I have not given you the names, sir, " resumed old Tabaret. "I wishedfirst to hear your opinion. "

"Oh! you can name them, " interrupted M. Daburon with a certain degreeof animation, "no matter how high he may have to strike, a Frenchmagistrate has never hesitated. "

"I know it, sir, but we are going very high this time. The father whohas sacrificed his legitimate son for the sake of his bastard is CountRheteau de Commarin, and the assassin of Widow Lerouge is the bastard, Viscount Albert de Commarin!"

M. Tabaret, like an accomplished artist, had uttered these words slowly, and with a deliberate emphasis, confidently expecting to produce agreat impression. His expectation was more than realized. M. Daburonwas struck with stupor. He remained motionless, his eyes dilated withastonishment. Mechanically he repeated like a word without meaning whichhe was trying to impress upon his memory: "Albert de Commarin! Albert deCommarin!"

"Yes, " insisted old Tabaret, "the noble viscount. It is incredible, Iknow. " But he perceived the alteration in the magistrate's face, anda little frightened, he approached the bed. "Are you unwell, sir?" heasked. 

"No, " answered M. Daburon, without exactly knowing what he said. "I amvery well; but the surprise, the emotion, --"

"I understand that, " said the old fellow. 

"Yes, it is not surprising, is it? I should like to be alone a fewminutes. Do not leave the house though; we must converse at some lengthon this business. Kindly pass into my study, there ought still to be afire burning there. I will join you directly. "

Then M. Daburon slowly got out of bed, put on a dressing gown, andseated himself, or rather fell, into an armchair. His face, to whichin the exercise of his austere functions he had managed to give theimmobility of marble, reflected the most cruel agitation; while hiseyes betrayed the inward agony of his soul. The name of Commarin, so unexpectedly pronounced, awakened in him the most sorrowfulrecollections, and tore open a wound but badly healed. This namerecalled to him an event which had rudely extinguished his youth andspoilt his life. Involuntarily, he carried his thoughts back to thisepoch, so as to taste again all its bitterness. An hour ago, it hadseemed to him far removed, and already hidden in the mists of the past;one word had sufficed to recall it, clear and distinct. It seemed to himnow that this event, in which the name of Albert de Commarin was mixedup, dated from yesterday. In reality nearly two years elapsed since. 

Pierre-Marie Daburon belonged to one of the oldest families of Poitou. Three or four of his ancestors had filled successively the mostimportant positions in the province. Why, then, had they not bequeatheda title and a coat of arms to their descendants?

The magistrate's father possesses, round about the ugly modern chateauwhich he inhabits, more than eight hundred thousand francs' worth of themost valuable land. By his mother, a Cottevise-Luxe, he is related tothe highest nobility of Poitou, one of the most exclusive that exists inFrance, as every one knows. 

When he received his nomination in Paris, his relationship caused him tobe received at once by five or six aristocratic families, and it was notlong before he extended his circle of acquaintance. 

He possessed, however, none of the qualifications which ensure socialsuccess. He was cold and grave even to sadness, reserved and timideven to excess. His mind wanted brilliancy and lightness; he lackedthe facility of repartee, and the amiable art of conversing without asubject; he could neither tell a lie, nor pay an insipid compliment. Like most men who feel deeply, he was unable to interpret hisimpressions immediately. He required to reflect and consider withinhimself. 

However, he was sought after for more solid qualities than these: forthe nobleness of his sentiments, his pleasant disposition, and thecertainty of his connections. Those who knew him intimately quicklylearned to esteem his sound judgment, his keen sense of honour, and todiscover under his cold exterior a warm heart, an excessive sensibility, and a delicacy almost feminine. In a word, although he might be eclipsedin a room full of strangers or simpletons, he charmed all hearts in asmaller circle, where he felt warmed by an atmosphere of sympathy. 

He accustomed himself to go about a great deal. He reasoned, wiselyperhaps, that a magistrate can make better use of his time than byremaining shut up in his study, in company with books of law. He thoughtthat a man called upon to judge others, ought to know them, and for thatpurpose study them. An attentive and discreet observer, he examined theplay of human interests and passions, exercised himself in disentanglingand manoeuvring at need the strings of the puppets he saw moving aroundhim. Piece by piece, so to say, he laboured to comprehend the workingof the complicated machine called society, of which he was charged tooverlook the movements, regulate the springs, and keep the wheels inorder. 

And on a sudden, in the early part of the winter of 1860 and 1861, M. Daburon disappeared. His friends sought for him, but he was nowhere tobe met with. What could he be doing? Inquiry resulted in the discoverythat he passed nearly all his evenings at the house of the Marchionessd'Arlange. The surprise was as great as it was natural. 

This dear marchioness was, or rather is, --for she is still in the landof the living, --a personage whom one would consider rather out of date. She is surely the most singular legacy bequeathed us by the eighteenthcentury. How, and by what marvellous process she had been preservedsuch as we see her, it is impossible to say. Listening to her, you wouldswear that she was yesterday at one of those parties given by the queenwhere cards and high stakes were the rule, much to the annoyance ofLouis XIV. , and where the great ladies cheated openly in emulation ofeach other. 

Manners, language, habits, almost costume, she has preserved everythingbelonging to that period about which authors have written only todisplay the defects. Her appearance alone will tell more than anexhaustive article, and an hour's conversation with her, more than avolume. 

She was born in a little principality, where her parents had takenrefuge whilst awaiting the chastisements and repentance of an erring andrebellious people. She had been brought up amongst the old nobles ofthe emigration, in some very ancient and very gilded apartment, just asthough she had been in a cabinet of curiosities. Her mind had awakenedamid the hum of antediluvian conversations, her imagination had firstbeen aroused by arguments a little less profitable than those of anassembly of deaf persons convoked to decide upon the merits of the workof some distinguished musician. Here she imbibed a fund of ideas, which, applied to the forms of society of to-day, are as grotesque as wouldbe those of a child shut up until twenty years of age in an Assyrianmuseum. 

The first empire, the restoration, the monarchy of July, the secondrepublic, the second empire, have passed beneath her windows, but shehas not taken the trouble to open them. All that has happened since '89she considers as never having been. For her it is a nightmare from whichshe is still awaiting a release. She has looked at everything, but thenshe looks through her own pretty glasses which show her everything asshe would wish it, and which are to be obtained of dealers in illusions. 

Though over sixty-eight years old she is as straight as a poplar, andhas never been ill. She is vivacious, and active to excess, and can onlykeep still when asleep, or when playing her favorite game of piquet. Shehas her four meals a day, eats like a vintager, and takes her wine neat. She professes an undisguised contempt for the silly women of our centurywho live for a week on a partridge, and inundate with water grandsentiments which they entangle in long phrases. She has always been, andstill is, very positive, and her word is prompt and easily understood. She never shrinks from using the most appropriate word to express hermeaning. So much the worse, if some delicate ears object! She heartilydetests hypocrisy. 

She believes in God, but she believes also in M. De Voltaire, so thather devotion is, to say the least, problematical. However, she is ongood terms with the curate of her parish, and is very particular aboutthe arrangement of her dinner on the days she honours him with aninvitation to her table. She seems to consider him a subaltern, veryuseful to her salvation, and capable of opening the gate of paradise forher. 

Such as she is, she is shunned like the plague. Everybody dreads herloud voice, her terrible indiscretion, and the frankness of speech whichshe affects, in order to have the right of saying the most unpleasantthings which pass through her head. Of all her family, there onlyremains her granddaughter, whose father died very young. 

Of a fortune originally large, and partly restored by the indemnityallowed by the government, but since administered in the most carelessmanner, she has only been able to preserve an income of twenty thousandfrancs, which diminishes day by day. She is, also, proprietor of thepretty little house which she inhabits, situated near the Invalides, between a rather narrow court-yard, and a very extensive garden. 

So circumstanced, she considers herself the most unfortunate of God'screatures, and passes the greater part of her life complaining of herpoverty. From time to time, especially after some exceptionally badspeculation, she confesses that what she fears most is to die in apauper's bed. 

A friend of M. Daburon's presented him one evening to the Marchionessd'Arlange, having dragged him to her house in a mirthful mood, saying, "Come with me, and I will show you a phenomenon, a ghost of the past inflesh and bone. "

The marchioness rather puzzled the magistrate the first time he wasadmitted to her presence. On his second visit, she amused him very much;for which reason, he came again. But after a while she no longer amusedhim, though he still continued a faithful and constant visitor to therose-coloured boudoir wherein she passed the greater part of her life. 

Madame d'Arlange conceived a violent friendship for him, and becameeloquent in his praises. 

"A most charming young man, " she declared, "delicate and sensible! Whata pity he is not born!" (Her ladyship meant born of noble parentage, but used the phrase as ignoring the fact of the unfortunates who arenot noble having been born at all) "One can receive him though, allthe same; his forefathers were very decent people, and his mother was aCottevise who, however, went wrong. I wish him well, and will do all Ican to push him forward. "

The strongest proof of friendship he received from her was, that shecondescended to pronounce his name like the rest of the world. She hadpreserved that ridiculous affectation of forgetfulness of the names ofpeople who were not of noble birth, and who in her opinion had no rightto names. She was so confirmed in this habit, that, if by accident shepronounced such a name correctly, she immediately repeated it with someludicrous alteration. During his first visit, M. Daburon was extremelyamused at hearing his name altered every time she addressed him. Successively she made it Taburon, Dabiron, Maliron, Laliron, Laridon;but, in three months time, she called him Daburon as distinctly as if hehad been a duke of something, and a lord of somewhere. 

Occasionally she exerted herself to prove to the worthy magistrate thathe was a nobleman, or at least ought to be. She would have been happy, if she could have persuaded him to adopt some title, and have a helmetengraved upon his visiting cards. 

"How is it possible, " said she, "that your ancestors, eminent, wealthy, and influential, never thought of being raised from the common herdand securing a title for their descendants? Today you would possess apresentable pedigree. --"

"My ancestors were wise, " responded M. Daburon. "They preferred beingforemost among their fellow-citizens to becoming last among the nobles. "

Upon which the marchioness explained, and proved to demonstration, thatbetween the most influential and wealthy citizen and the smallest scionof nobility, there was an abyss that all the money in the world couldnot fill up. 

They who were so surprised at the frequency of the magistrate'svisits to this celebrated "relic of the past" did not know that lady'sgranddaughter, or, at least, did not recollect her; she went out soseldom! The old marchioness did not care, so she said, to be botheredwith a young spy who would be in her way when she related some of herchoice anecdotes. 

Claire d'Arlange was just seventeen years old. She was extremelygraceful and gentle in manner, and lovely in her natural innocence. Shehad a profusion of fine light brown hair, which fell in ringlets overher well-shaped neck and shoulders. Her figure was still rather slender;but her features recalled Guide's most celestial faces. Her blue eyes, shaded by long lashes of a hue darker than her hair, had above all anadorable expression. 

A certain air of antiquity, the result of her association with hergrandmother, added yet another charm to the young girl's manner. She hadmore sense, however, than her relative; and, as her education had notbeen neglected, she had imbibed pretty correct ideas of the world inwhich she lived. This education, these practical ideas, Claire owedto her governess, upon whose shoulders the marchioness had thrown theentire responsibility of cultivating her mind. 

This governess, Mademoiselle Schmidt, chosen at hazard, happened bythe most fortunate chance to be both well informed and possessed ofprinciple. She was, what is often met with on the other side ofthe Rhine, a woman at once romantic and practical, of the tenderestsensibility and the severest virtue. This good woman, while she carriedher pupil into the land of sentimental phantasy and poetical imaginings, gave her at the same time the most practical instruction in mattersrelating to actual life. She revealed to Claire all the peculiaritiesof thought and manner that rendered her grandmother so ridiculous, andtaught her to avoid them, but without ceasing to respect them. 

Every evening, on arriving at Madame d'Arlange's, M. Daburon was sure tofind Claire seated beside her grandmother, and it was for that thathe called. Whilst listening with an inattentive ear to the old lady'srigmaroles and her interminable anecdotes of the emigration, he gazedupon Claire, as a fanatic upon his idol. Often in his ecstasy he forgotwhere he was for the moment and became absolutely oblivious of the oldlady's presence, although her shrill voice was piercing the tympanumof his ear like a needle. Then he would answer her at cross-purposes, committing the most singular blunders, which he labored afterwards toexplain. But he need not have taken the trouble. Madame d'Arlange didnot perceive her courtier's absence of mind; her questions were of sucha length, that she did not care about the answers. Having a listener, she was satisfied, provided that from time to time he gave signs oflife. 

When obliged to sit down to play piquet, he cursed below his breath thegame and its detestable inventor. He paid no attention to his cards. He made mistakes every moment, discarding what he should keep inand forgetting to cut. The old lady was annoyed by these continualdistractions, but she did scruple to profit by them. She looked at thediscard, changed the cards which did not suit her, while she audaciouslyscored points she never made, and pocketed the money thus won withoutshame or remorse. 

M. Daburon's timidity was extreme, and Claire was unsociable to excess, they therefore seldom spoke to each other. During the entire winter, themagistrate did not directly address the young girl ten times; and, onthese rare occasions, he had learned mechanically by heart the phrase heproposed to repeat to her, well knowing that, without this precaution, he would most likely be unable to finish what he had to say. 

But at least he saw her, he breathed the same air with her, he heard hervoice, whose pure and harmonious vibrations thrilled his very soul. 

By constantly watching her eyes, he learned to understand all theirexpressions. He believed he could read in them all her thoughts, andthrough them look into her soul like through an open window. 

"She is pleased to-day, " he would say to himself; and then he wouldbe happy. At other times, he thought, "She has met with some annoyanceto-day;" and immediately he became sad. 

The idea of asking for her hand many times presented itself to hisimagination; but he never dared to entertain it. Knowing, as he did, the marchioness's prejudices, her devotion to titles, her dread of anyapproach to a misalliance, he was convinced she would shut his mouthat the first word by a very decided "no, " which she would maintain. Toattempt the thing would be to risk, without a chance of success, hispresent happiness which he thought immense, for love lives upon its ownmisery. 

"Once repulsed, " thought he, "the house is shut against me; and thenfarewell to happiness, for life will end for me. " Upon the otherhand, the very rational thought occurred to him that another mightsee Mademoiselle d'Arlange, love her, and, in consequence, ask for andobtain her. In either case, hazarding a proposal, or hesitating still, he must certainly lose her in the end. By the commencement of spring, his mind was made up. 

One fine afternoon, in the month of April, he bent his steps towards theresidence of Madame d'Arlange, having truly need of more bravery thana soldier about to face a battery. He, like the soldier, whispered tohimself, "Victory or death!" The marchioness who had gone out shortlyafter breakfast had just returned in a terrible rage, and was utteringscreams like an eagle. 

This was what had taken place. She had some work done by a neighboringpainter some eight or ten months before; and the workman had presentedhimself a hundred times to receive payment, without avail. Tired of thisproceeding, he had summoned the high and mighty Marchioness d'Arlangebefore the Justice of the Peace. 

This summons had exasperated the marchioness; but she kept the matterto herself, having decided, in her wisdom, to call upon the judge andrequest him to reprimand the insolent painter who had dared to plagueher for a paltry sum of money. The result of this fine project may beguessed. The judge had been compelled to eject her forcibly from hisoffice; hence her fury. 

M. Daburon found her in the rose-colored boudoir half undressed, herhair in disorder, red as a peony, and surrounded by the debris of theglass and china which had fallen under her hands in the first moments ofher passion. Unfortunately, too, Claire and her governess were gone out. A maid was occupied in inundating the old lady with all sorts of waters, in the hope of calming her nerves. 

She received Daburon as a messenger direct from Providence. In a littlemore than half an hour, she told her story, interlarded with numerousinterjections and imprecations. 

"Do you comprehend this judge?" cried she. "He must be some franticJacobin, --some son of the furies, who washed their hands in the blood oftheir king. Ah! my friend, I read stupor and indignation in your glance. He listened to the complaint of that impudent scoundrel whom I enabledto live by employing him! And when I addressed some severe remonstrancesto this judge, as it was my duty to do, he had me turned out! Do youhear? turned out!"

At this painful recollection, she made a menacing gesture with her arm. In her sudden movement, she struck a handsome scent bottle that her maidheld in her hand. The force of the blow sent it to the other end of theroom, where it broke into pieces. 

"Stupid, awkward fool!" cried the marchioness, venting her anger uponthe frightened girl. 

M. Daburon, bewildered at first, now endeavored to calm herexasperation. She did not allow him to pronounce three words. 

"Happily you are here, " she continued; "you are always willing to serveme, I know. I count upon you! you will exercise your influence, yourpowerful friends, your credit, to have this pitiful painter and thismiscreant of a judge flung into some deep ditch, to teach them therespect due to a woman of my rank. "

The magistrate did not permit himself even to smile at this imperativedemand. He had heard many speeches as absurd issue from her lips withoutever making fun of them. Was she not Claire's grandmother? for thatalone he loved and venerated her. He blessed her for her granddaughter, as an admirer of nature blesses heaven for the wild flower that delightshim with its perfume. 

The fury of the old lady was terrible; nor was it of short duration. Atthe end of an hour, however, she was, or appeared to be, pacified. Theyreplaced her head-dress, repaired the disorder of her toilette, andpicked up the fragments of broken glass and china. Vanquished by herown violence, the reaction was immediate and complete. She fell backhelpless and exhausted into an arm-chair. 

This magnificent result was due to the magistrate. To accomplish it, hehad had to use all his ability, to exercise the most angelic patience, the greatest tact. His triumph was the more meritorious, because hecame completely unprepared for this adventure, which interfered with hisintended proposal. The first time that he had felt sufficient courageto speak, fortune seemed to declare against him, for this untoward eventhad quite upset his plans. 

Arming himself, however, with his professional eloquence, he talked theold lady into calmness. He was not so foolish as to contradict her. Onthe contrary, he caressed her hobby. He was humorous and pathetic byturns. He attacked the authors of the revolution, cursed its errors, deplored its crimes, and almost wept over its disastrous results. Commencing with the infamous Marat he eventually reached the rascal of ajudge who had offended her. He abused his scandalous conduct in good setterms, and was exceedingly severe upon the dishonest scamp of a painter. However, he thought it best to let them off the punishment they sorichly deserved; and ended by suggesting that it would perhaps beprudent, wise, noble even to pay. 

The unfortunate word "pay" brought Madame d'Arlange to her feet in thefiercest attitude. 

"Pay!" she screamed. "In order that these scoundrels may persist intheir obduracy! Encourage them by a culpable weakness! Never! Besides topay one must have money! and I have none!"

"Why!" said M. Daburon, "it amounts to but eighty-seven francs!"

"And is that nothing?" asked the marchioness; "you talk very foolishly, my dear sir. It is easy to see that you have money; your ancestors werepeople of no rank; and the revolution passed a hundred feet above theirheads. Who can tell whether they may not have been the gainers by it? Ittook all from the d'Arlanges. What will they do to me, if I do not pay?"

"Well, madame, they can do many things; almost ruin you, in costs. Theymay seize your furniture. "

"Alas!" cried the old lady, "the revolution is not ended yet. We shallall be swallowed up by it, my poor Daburon! Ah! you are happy, you whobelong to the people! I see plainly that I must pay this man withoutdelay, and it is frightfully sad for me, for I have nothing, and amforced to make such sacrifices for the sake of my grandchild!"

This statement surprised the magistrate so strongly that involuntarilyhe repeated half-aloud, "Sacrifices?"

"Certainly!" resumed Madame d'Arlange. "Without her, would I have tolive as I am doing, refusing myself everything to make both ends meet?Not a bit of it! I would invest my fortune in a life annuity. But Iknow, thank heaven, the duties of a mother; and I economise all I canfor my little Claire. "

This devotion appeared so admirable to M. Daburon, that he could notutter a word. 

"Ah! I am terribly anxious about this dear child, " continued themarchioness. "I confess M. Daburon, it makes me giddy when I wonder howI am to marry her. "

The magistrate reddened with pleasure. At last his opportunity hadarrived; he must take advantage of it at once. 

"It seems to me, " stammered he, "that to find Mademoiselle Claire ahusband ought not to be difficult. "

"Unfortunately, it is. She is pretty enough, I admit, although ratherthin, but, now-a-days, beauty goes for nothing. Men are so mercenarythey think only of money. I do not know of one who has the manhood totake a d'Arlange with her bright eyes for a dowry. "

"I believe that you exaggerate, " remarked M. Daburon, timidly. 

"By no means. Trust to my experience which is far greater than yours. Besides, when I find a son-in-law, he will cause me a thousand troubles. Of this, I am assured by my lawyer. I shall be compelled, it seems, torender an account of Claire's patrimony. As if ever I kept accounts!It is shameful! Ah! if Claire had any sense of filial duty, she wouldquietly take the veil in some convent. I would use every effort to paythe necessary dower; but she has no affection for me. "

M. Daburon felt that now was the time to speak. He collected hiscourage, as a good horseman pulls his horse together when going to leapa hedge, and in a voice, which he tried to render firm, he said: "Well!Madame, I believe I know a party who would suit Mademoiselle Claire, --anhonest man, who loves her, and who will do everything in the world tomake her happy. "

"That, " said Madame d'Arlange, "is always understood. "

"The man of whom I speak, " continued the magistrate, "is still young, and is rich. He will be only too happy to receive Mademoiselle Clairewithout a dowry. Not only will he decline an examination of youraccounts of guardianship, but he will beg you to invest your fortune asyou think fit. "

"Really! Daburon, my friend, you are by no means a fool!" exclaimed theold lady. 

"If you prefer not to invest your fortune in a life-annuity, yourson-in-law will allow you sufficient to make up what you now findwanting. "

"Ah! really I am stifling, " interrupted the marchioness. "What! you knowsuch a man, and have never yet mentioned him to me! You ought to haveintroduced him long ago. "

"I did not dare, madame, I was afraid--"

"Quick! tell me who is this admirable son-in-law, this white blackbird?where does he nestle?"

The magistrate felt a strange fluttering of the heart; he was goingto stake his happiness on a word. At length he stammered, "It is I, madame!"

His voice, his look, his gesture were beseeching. He was surprised athis own audacity, frightened at having vanquished his timidity, and wason the point of falling at the old lady's feet. She, however, laugheduntil the tears came into her eyes, then shrugging her shoulders, shesaid: "Really, dear Daburon is too ridiculous, he will make me die oflaughing! He is so amusing!" After which she burst out laughing again. But suddenly she stopped, in the very height of her merriment, andassumed her most dignified air. "Are you perfectly serious in all youhave told me, M. Daburon?" she asked. 

"I have stated the truth, " murmured the magistrate. 

"You are then very rich?"

"I inherited, madame, from my mother, about twenty thousand francs ayear. One of my uncles, who died last year, bequeathed me over a hundredthousand crowns. My father is worth about a million. Were I to ask himfor the half to-morrow, he would give it to me; he would give me allhis fortune, if it were necessary to my happiness, and be but too wellcontented, should I leave him the administration of it. "

Madame d'Arlange signed to him to be silent; and, for five good minutesat least, she remained plunged in reflection, her forehead resting inher hands. At length she raised her head. 

"Listen, " said she. "Had you been so bold as to make this proposal toClaire's father, he would have called his servants to show you the door. For the sake of our name I ought to do the same; but I cannot do so. Iam old and desolate; I am poor; my grandchild's prospects disquiet me;that is my excuse. I cannot, however, consent to speak to Claire of thishorrible misalliance. What I can promise you, and that is too much, is that I will not be against you. Take your own measures; pay youraddresses to Mademoiselle d'Arlange, and try to persuade her. If shesays 'yes, ' of her own free will, I shall not say 'no. '"

M. Daburon, transported with happiness, could almost have embraced theold lady. He thought her the best, the most excellent of women, notnoticing the facility with which this proud spirit had been brought toyield. He was delirious, almost mad. 

"Wait!" said the old lady; "your cause is not yet gained. Your mother, it is true, was a Cottevise, and I must excuse her for marrying sowretchedly; but your father is simple M. Daburon. This name, my dearfriend, is simply ridiculous. Do you think it will be easy to make aDaburon of a young girl who for nearly eighteen years has been calledd'Arlange?"

This objection did not seem to trouble the magistrate. 

"After all, " continued the old lady, "your father gained a Cottevise, so you may win a d'Arlange. On the strength of marrying into noblefamilies, the Daburons may perhaps end by ennobling themselves. One lastpiece of advice; you believe Claire to be just as she looks, --timid, sweet, obedient. Undeceive yourself, my friend. Despite her innocentair, she is hardy, fierce, and obstinate as the marquis her father, whowas worse than an Auvergne mule. Now you are warned. Our conditions areagreed to, are they not? Let us say no more on the subject. I almostwish you to succeed. "

This scene was so present to the magistrate's mind, that as he sat athome in his arm-chair, though many months had passed since these events, he still seemed to hear the old lady's voice, and the word "success"still sounded in his ears. 

He departed in triumph from the d'Arlange abode, which he had enteredwith a heart swelling with anxiety. He walked with his head erect, hischest dilated, and breathing the fresh air with the full strength of hislungs. He was so happy! The sky appeared to him more blue, the sunmore brilliant. This grave magistrate felt a mad desire to stop thepassers-by, to press them in his arms, to cry to them, --"Have you heard?The marchioness consents!"

He walked, and the earth seemed to him to give way beneath hisfootsteps; it was either too small to carry so much happiness, or elsehe had become so light that he was going to fly away towards the stars. 

What castles in the air he built upon what Madame d'Arlange had said tohim! He would tender his resignation. He would build on the banks of theLoire, not far from Tours, an enchanting little villa. He already sawit, with its facade to the rising sun, nestling in the midst of flowers, and shaded with wide-spreading trees. He furnished this dwelling in themost luxuriant style. He wished to provide a marvellous casket, worthythe pearl he was about to possess. For he had not a doubt; not a cloudobscured the horizon made radiant by his hopes, no voice at the bottomof his heart raised itself to cry, "Beware!"

From that day, his visits to the marchioness became more frequent. He might almost be said to live at her house. While he preserved hisrespectful and reserved demeanour towards Claire, he strove assiduouslyto be something in her life. True love is ingenious. He learnt toovercome his timidity, to speak to the well-beloved of his soul, toencourage her to converse with him, to interest her. He went in questof all the news, to amuse her. He read all the new books, and brought toher all that were fit for her to read. 

Little by little he succeeded, thanks to the most delicate persistence, in taming this shy young girl. He began to perceive that her fear of himhad almost disappeared, that she no longer received him with the coldand haughty air which had previously kept him at a distance. He feltthat he was insensibly gaining her confidence. She still blushed whenshe spoke to him; but she no longer hesitated to address the first word. She even ventured at times to ask him a question. If she had heard aplay well spoken of and wished to know the subject, M. Daburon would atonce go to see it, and commit a complete account of it to writing, whichhe would send her through the post. At times she intrusted him withtrifling commissions, the execution of which he would not have exchangedfor the Russian embassy. 

Once he ventured to send her a magnificent bouquet. She accepted it withan air of uneasy surprise, but begged him not to repeat the offering. 

The tears came to his eyes; he left her presence broken-hearted, and theunhappiest of men. "She does not love me, " thought he, "she will neverlove me. " But, three days after, as he looked very sad, she begged himto procure her certain flowers, then very much in fashion, which shewished to place on her flower-stand. He sent enough to fill the housefrom the garret to the cellar. "She will love me, " he whispered tohimself in his joy. 

These events, so trifling but yet so great, had not interrupted thegames of piquet; only the young girl now appeared to interest herselfin the play, nearly always taking the magistrate's side against themarchioness. She did not understand the game very well; but, whenthe old gambler cheated too openly, she would notice it, and say, laughingly, --"She is robbing you, M. Daburon, --she is robbing you!" Hewould willingly have been robbed of his entire fortune, to hear thatsweet voice raised on his behalf. 

It was summer time. Often in the evening she accepted his arm, and, while the marchioness remained at the window, seated in her arm-chair, they walked around the lawn, treading lightly upon the paths spread withgravel sifted so fine that the trailing of her light dress effaced thetraces of their footsteps. She chatted gaily with him, as with a belovedbrother, while he was obliged to do violence to his feelings, to refrainfrom imprinting a kiss upon the little blonde head, from which the lightbreeze lifted the curls and scattered them like fleecy clouds. At suchmoments, he seemed to tread an enchanted path strewn with flowers, atthe end of which appeared happiness. 

When he attempted to speak of his hopes to the marchioness, she wouldsay: "You know what we agreed upon. Not a word. Already does thevoice of conscience reproach me for lending my countenance to such anabomination. To think that I may one day have a granddaughter callingherself Madame Daburon! You must petition the king, my friend, to changeyour name. "

If instead of intoxicating himself with dreams of happiness, this acuteobserver had studied the character of his idol, the effect might havebeen to put him upon his guard. In the meanwhile, he noticed singularalterations in her humour. On certain days, she was gay and carelessas a child. Then, for a week, she would remain melancholy and dejected. Seeing her in this state the day following a ball, to which hergrandmother had made a point of taking her, he dared to ask her thereason of her sadness. 

"Oh! that, " answered she, heaving a deep sigh, "is my secret, --a secretof which even my grandmother knows nothing. "

M. Daburon looked at her. He thought he saw a tear between her longeyelashes. 

"One day, " continued she, "I may confide in you: it will perhaps benecessary. "

The magistrate was blind and deaf. "I also, " answered he, "have asecret, which I wish to confide to you in return. "

When he retired towards midnight, he said to himself, "To-morrow I willconfess everything to her. " Then passed a little more than fifty days, during which he kept repeating to himself, --"To-morrow!"

It happened at last one evening in the month of August; the heat allday had been overpowering; towards dusk a breeze had risen, the leavesrustled; there were signs of a storm in the atmosphere. 

They were seated together at the bottom of the garden, under the arbour, adorned with exotic plants, and, through the branches, they perceivedthe fluttering gown of the marchioness, who was taking a turn after herdinner. They had remained a long time without speaking, enjoying theperfume of the flowers, the calm beauty of the evening. 

M. Daburon ventured to take the young girl's hand. It was the firsttime, and the touch of her fine skin thrilled through every fibre of hisframe, and drove the blood surging to his brain. 

"Mademoiselle, " stammered he, "Claire--"

She turned towards him her beautiful eyes, filled with astonishment. 

"Forgive me, " continued he, "forgive me. I have spoken to yourgrandmother, before daring to raise my eyes to you. Do you notunderstand me? A word from your lips will decide my future happiness ormisery. Claire, mademoiselle, do not spurn me: I love you!"

While the magistrate was speaking, Mademoiselle d'Arlange looked at himas though doubtful of the evidence of her senses; but at the words, "Ilove you!" pronounced with the trembling accents of the most devotedpassion, she disengaged her hand sharply, and uttered a stifled cry. 

"You, " murmured she, "is this really you?"

M. Daburon, at this the most critical moment of his life was powerlessto utter a word. The presentiment of an immense misfortune oppressed hisheart. What were then his feelings, when he saw Claire burst into tears. She hid her face in her hands, and kept repeating, --

"I am very unhappy, very unhappy!"

"You unhappy?" exclaimed the magistrate at length, "and through me?Claire, you are cruel! In heaven's name, what have I done? What is thematter? Speak! Anything rather then this anxiety which is killing me. "

He knelt before her on the gravelled walk, and again made an attempt totake her hand. She repulsed him with an imploring gesture. 

"Let me weep, " said she: "I suffer so much, you are going to hate me, I feel it. Who knows! you will, perhaps, despise me, and yet I swearbefore heaven that I never expected what you have just said to me, thatI had not even a suspicion of it!"

M. Daburon remained upon his knees, awaiting his doom. 

"Yes, " continued Claire, "you will think you have been the victim of adetestable coquetry. I see it now! I comprehend everything! It is notpossible, that, without a profound love, a man can be all that youhave been to me. Alas! I was but a child. I gave myself up to the greathappiness of having a friend! Am I not alone in the world, and as iflost in a desert? Silly and imprudent, I thoughtlessly confided in you, as in the best, the most indulgent of fathers. "

These words revealed to the unfortunate magistrate the extent ofhis error. The same as a heavy hammer, they smashed into a thousandfragments the fragile edifice of his hopes. He raised himself slowly, and, in a tone of involuntary reproach, he repeated, --"Your father!"

Mademoiselle d'Arlange felt how deeply she had wounded this man whoseintense love she dare not even fathom. "Yes, " she resumed, "I love youas a father! Seeing you, usually so grave and austere, become for meso good, so indulgent, I thanked heaven for sending me a protector toreplace those who are dead. "

M. Daburon could not restrain a sob; his heart was breaking. 

"One word, " continued Claire, --"one single word, would have enlightenedme. Why did you not pronounce it! It was with such happiness that Ileant on you as a child on its mother; and with what inward joy I saidto myself, 'I am sure of one friend, of one heart into which runs theoverflow of mine!' Ah! why was not my confidence greater? Why did Iwithhold my secret from you? I might have avoided this fearful calamity. I ought to have told you long since. I no longer belong to myself freelyand with happiness, I have given my life to another. "

To hover in the clouds, and suddenly to fall rudely to the earth, suchwas M. Daburon's fate; his sufferings are not to be described. 

"Far better to have spoken, " answered he; "yet no. I owe to yoursilence, Claire, six months of delicious illusions, six months ofenchanting dreams. This shall be my share of life's happiness. "

The last beams of closing day still enabled the magistrate to seeMademoiselle d'Arlange. Her beautiful face had the whiteness and theimmobility of marble. Heavy tears rolled silently down her cheeks. Itseemed to M. Daburon that he was beholding the frightful spectacle of aweeping statue. 

"You love another, " said he at length, "another! And your grandmotherdoes not know it. Claire, you can only have chosen a man worthy of yourlove. How is it the marchioness does not receive him?"

"There are certain obstacles, " murmured Claire, "obstacles which perhapswe may never be able to remove; but a girl like me can love but once. She marries him she loves, or she belongs to heaven!"

"Certain obstacles!" said M. Daburon in a hollow voice. "You love a man, he knows it, and he is stopped by obstacles?"

"I am poor, " answered Mademoiselle d'Arlange, "and his family isimmensely rich. His father is cruel, inexorable. "

"His father, " cried the magistrate, with a bitterness he did not dreamof hiding, "his father, his family, and that withholds him! You arepoor, he is rich, and that stops him! And yet he knows you love him!Ah! why am I not in his place? and why have I not the entire universeagainst me? What sacrifice can compare with love? such as I understandit. Nay, would it be a sacrifice? That which appears most so, is it notreally an immense joy? To suffer, to struggle, to wait, to hope always, to devote oneself entirely to another; that is my idea of love. "

"It is thus I love, " said Claire with simplicity. 

This answer crushed the magistrate. He could understand it. He knew thatfor him there was no hope; but he felt a terrible enjoyment in torturinghimself, and proving his misfortune by intense suffering. 

"But, " insisted he, "how have you known him, spoken to him? Where? When?Madame d'Arlange receives no one. "

"I ought now to tell you everything, sir, " answered Claire proudly. "I have known him for a long time. It was at the house of one of mygrandmother's friends, who is a cousin of his, --old Mademoiselle Goello, that I saw him for the first time. There we spoke to each other; therewe meet each other now. "

"Ah!" exclaimed M. Daburon, whose eyes were suddenly opened, "I remembernow. A few days before your visit to Mademoiselle Goello, you are gayerthan usual; and, when you return, you are often sad. "

"That is because I see how much he is pained by the obstacles he cannotovercome. "

"Is his family, then, so illustrious, " asked the magistrate harshly, "that it disdains alliance with yours?"

"I should have told you everything, without waiting to be questioned, sir, " answered Mademoiselle d'Arlange, "even his name. He is calledAlbert de Commarin. "

The marchioness at this moment, thinking she had walked enough, was preparing to return to her rose-coloured boudoir. She thereforeapproached the arbour, and exclaimed in her loud voice:--

"Worthy magistrate, piquet awaits you. "

Mechanically the magistrate arose, stammering, "I am coming. "

Claire held him back. "I have not asked you to keep my secret, sir, "said she. 

"O mademoiselle!" said M. Daburon, wounded by this appearance of doubt. 

"I know, " resumed Claire, "that I can count upon you; but, come whatwill, my tranquillity is gone. "

M. Daburon looked at her with an air of surprise; his eyes questionedher. 

"It is certain, " continued she, "that what I, a young and inexperiencedgirl, have failed to see, has not passed unnoticed by my grandmother. That she has continued to receive you is a tacit encouragement of youraddresses; which I consider, permit me to say, as very honourable tomyself. "

"I have already mentioned, mademoiselle, " replied the magistrate, "thatthe marchioness has deigned to authorise my hopes. "

And briefly he related his interview with Madame d'Arlange, having thedelicacy, however, to omit absolutely the question of money, which hadso strongly influenced the old lady. 

"I see very plainly what effect this will have on my peace, " said Clairesadly. "When my grandmother learns that I have not received your homage, she will be very angry. "

"You misjudge me, mademoiselle, " interrupted M. Daburon. "I have nothingto say to the marchioness. I will retire, and all will be concluded. Nodoubt she will think that I have altered my mind!"

"Oh! you are good and generous, I know!"

"I will go away, " pursued M. Daburon; "and soon you will have forgotteneven the name of the unfortunate whose life's hopes have just beenshattered. "

"You do not mean what you say, " said the young girl quickly. 

"Well, no. I cherish this last illusion, that later on you will rememberme with pleasure. Sometimes you will say, 'He loved me, ' I wish all thesame to remain your friend, yes, your most devoted friend. "

Claire, in her turn, clasped M. Daburon's hands, and said with greatemotion:--"Yes, you are right, you must remain my friend. Let us forgetwhat has happened, what you have said to-night, and remain to me, as inthe past, the best, the most indulgent of brothers. "

Darkness had come, and she could not see him; but she knew he wasweeping, for he was slow to answer. 

"Is it possible, " murmured he at length, "what you ask of me? What! isit you who talk to me of forgetting? Do you feel the power to forget?Do you not see that I love you a thousand times more than you love--"He stopped, unable to pronounce the name of Commarin; and then, with aneffort he added: "And I shall love you always. "

They had left the arbour, and were now standing not far from the stepsleading to the house. 

"And now, mademoiselle, " resumed M. Daburon, "permit me to say, adieu!You will see me again but seldom. I shall only return often enough toavoid the appearance of a rupture. "

His voice trembled, so that it was with difficulty he made it distinct. 

"Whatever may happen, " he added, "remember that there is one unfortunatebeing in the world who belongs to you absolutely. If ever you have needof a friend's devotion, come to me, come to your friend. Now it is over. . . I have courage. Claire, mademoiselle, for the last time, adieu!"

She was but little less moved than he was. Instinctively she approachedhim, and for the first and last time he touched lightly with his coldlips the forehead of her he loved so well. They mounted the steps, sheleaning on his arm, and entered the rose-coloured boudoir where themarchioness was seated, impatiently shuffling the cards, while awaitingher victim. 

"Now, then, incorruptible magistrate, " cried she. 

But M. Daburon felt sick at heart. He could not have held the cards. Hestammered some absurd excuses, spoke of pressing affairs, of duties tobe attended to, of feeling suddenly unwell, and went out, clinging tothe walls. 

His departure made the old card-player highly indignant. She turned toher grand-daughter, who had gone to hide her confusion away from thecandles of the card table, and asked, "What is the matter with Daburonthis evening?"

"I do not know, madame, " stammered Claire. 

"It appears to me, " continued the marchioness, "that the littlemagistrate permits himself to take singular liberties. He must bereminded of his proper place, or he will end by believing himself ourequal. "

Claire tried to explain the magistrate's conduct: "He has beencomplaining all the evening, grandmamma; perhaps he is unwell. "

"And what if he is?" exclaimed the old lady. "Is it not his duty toexercise some self-denial, in return for the honour of our company? Ithink I have already related to you the story of your granduncle, theDuke de St Hurluge, who, having been chosen to join the king's cardparty on their return from the chase, played all through the evening andlost with the best grace in the world two hundred and twenty pistoles. All the assembly remarked his gaiety and his good humour. On thefollowing day only it was learned, that, during the hunt, he had fallenfrom his horse, and had sat at his majesty's card table with a brokenrib. Nobody made any remark, so perfectly natural did this act ofordinary politeness appear in those days. This little Daburon, if he isunwell, would have given proof of his breeding by saying nothing aboutit, and remaining for my piquet. But he is as well as I am. Who can tellwhat games he has gone to play elsewhere!"

CHAPTER VII. 

M. Daburon did not return home on leaving Mademoiselle d'Arlange. Allthrough the night he wandered about at random, seeking to cool hisheated brow, and to allay his excessive weariness. 

"Fool that I was!" said he to himself, "thousand times fool to havehoped, to have believed, that she would ever love me. Madman! howcould I have dared to dream of possessing so much grace, nobleness, andbeauty! How charming she was this evening, when her face was bathed intears! Could anything be more angelic? What a sublime expression hereyes had in speaking of him! How she must love him! And I? She loves meas a father, she told me so, --as a father! And could it be otherwise?Is it not justice? Could she see a lover in a sombre and severe-lookingmagistrate, always as sad as his black coat? Was it not a crime to dreamof uniting that virginal simplicity to my detestable knowledge of theworld? For her, the future is yet the land of smiling chimeras; and longsince experience has dissipated all my illusions. She is as young asinnocence, and I am as old as vice. "

The unfortunate magistrate felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. Heunderstood Claire, and excused her. He reproached himself for havingshown her how he suffered; for having cast a shadow upon her life. Hecould not forgive himself for having spoken of his love. Ought he notto have foreseen what had happened?--that she would refuse him, that hewould thus deprive himself of the happiness of seeing her, of hearingher, and of silently adoring her?

"A young and romantic girl, " pursued he, "must have a lover she candream of, --whom she can caress in imagination, as an ideal, gratifyingherself by seeing in him every great and brilliant quality, imagininghim full of nobleness, of bravery, of heroism. What would she see, if, in my absence, she dreamed of me? Her imagination would present medressed in a funeral robe, in the depth of a gloomy dungeon, engagedwith some vile criminal. Is it not my trade to descend into all moralsinks, to stir up the foulness of crime? Am I not compelled to washin secrecy and darkness the dirty linen of the most corrupt members ofsociety? Ah! some professions are fatal. Ought not the magistrate, likethe priest, to condemn himself to solitude and celibacy? Both know all, they hear all, their costumes are nearly the same; but, while the priestcarries consolation in the folds of his black robe, the magistrateconveys terror. One is mercy, the other chastisement. Such are theimages a thought of me would awaken; while the other, --the other--"

The wretched man continued his headlong course along the deserted quays. He went with his head bare, his eyes haggard. To breathe more freely, hehad torn off his cravat and thrown it to the winds. 

Sometimes, unconsciously, he crossed the path of a solitary wayfarer, who would pause, touched with pity, and turn to watch the retreatingfigure of the unfortunate wretch he thought deprived of reason. In aby-road, near Grenelle, some police officers stopped him, and tried toquestion him. He mechanically tendered them his card. They read it, andpermitted him to pass, convinced that he was drunk. 

Anger, --a furious anger, began to replace his first feeling ofresignation. In his heart arose a hate, stronger and more violent thaneven his love for Claire. That other, that preferred one, that haughtyviscount, who could not overcome those paltry obstacles, oh, that he hadhim there, under his knee!

At that moment, this noble and proud man, this severe and gravemagistrate experienced an irresistible longing for vengeance. He beganto understand the hate that arms itself with a knife, and lays in ambushin out-of-the-way places; which strikes in the dark, whether in frontor from behind matters little, but which strikes, which kills, whosevengeance blood alone can satisfy. 

At that very hour he was supposed to be occupied with an inquiryinto the case of an unfortunate, accused of having stabbed one of herwretched companions. She was jealous of the woman, who had tried totake her lover from her. He was a soldier, coarse in manners, and alwaysdrunk. 

M. Daburon felt himself seized with pity for this miserable creature, whom he had commenced to examine the day before. She was very ugly, infact truly repulsive; but the expression of the eyes, when speaking ofher soldier, returned to the magistrate's memory. 

"She loves him sincerely, " thought he. "If each one of the jurors hadsuffered what I am suffering now, she would be acquitted. But how manymen in this world have loved passionately? Perhaps not one in twenty. "

He resolved to recommend this girl to the indulgence of the tribunal, and to extenuate as much as possible her guilt. 

For he himself had just determined upon the commission of a crime. Hewas resolved to kill Albert de Commarin. 

During the rest of the night he became all the more determined in thisresolution, demonstrating to himself by a thousand mad reasons, which hefound solid and inscrutable, the necessity for and the justifiablenessof this vengeance. 

At seven o'clock in the morning, he found himself in an avenue of theBois de Boulogne, not far from the lake. He made at once for the PorteMaillot, procured a cab, and was driven to his house. 

The delirium of the night continued, but without suffering. He wasconscious of no fatigue. Calm and cool, he acted under the power of anhallucination, almost like a somnambulist. 

He reflected and reasoned, but without his reason. As soon as he arrivedhome he dressed himself with care, as was his custom formerly whenvisiting the Marchioness d'Arlange, and went out. He first called at anarmourer's and bought a small revolver, which he caused to be carefullyloaded under his own eyes, and put it into his pocket. He then called onthe different persons he supposed capable of informing him to what clubthe viscount belonged. No one noticed the strange state of his mind, sonatural were his manners and conversations. 

It was not until the afternoon that a young friend of his gave him thename of Albert de Commarin's club, and offered to conduct him thither, as he too was a member. 

M. Daburon accepted warmly, and accompanied his friend. While passingalong, he grasped with frenzy the handle of the revolver which he keptconcealed, thinking only of the murder he was determined to commit, andthe means of insuring the accuracy of his aim. 

"This will make a terrible scandal, " thought he, "above all if I do notsucceed in blowing my own brains out. I shall be arrested, throwninto prison, and placed upon my trial at the assizes. My name will bedishonoured! Bah! what does that signify? Claire does not love me, sowhat care I for all the rest? My father no doubt will die of grief, butI must have my revenge!"

On arriving at the club, his friend pointed out a very dark young man, with a haughty air, or what appeared so to him, who, seated at a table, was reading a review. It was the viscount. 

M. Daburon walked up to him without drawing his revolver. But whenwithin two paces, his heart failed him; he turned suddenly and fled, leaving his friend astonished at a scene, to him, utterly inexplicable. 

Only once again will Albert de Commarin be as near death. 

On reaching the street, it seemed to M. Daburon that the ground wasreceding from beneath him, that everything was turning around him. Hetried to cry out, but could not utter a sound; he struck at the air withhis hands, reeled for an instant, and then fell all of a heap on thepavement. 

The passers-by ran and assisted the police to raise him. In one of hispockets they found his address, and carried him home. When he recoveredhis senses, he was in his bed, at the foot of which he perceived hisfather. 

"What has happened?" he asked. With much caution they told him, thatfor six weeks he had wavered between life and death. The doctors haddeclared his life saved; and, now that reason was restored, all would gowell. 

Five minutes' conversation exhausted him. He shut his eyes, and tried tocollect his ideas; but they whirled hither and thither wildly, as autumnleaves in the wind. The past seemed shrouded in a dark mist; yet, inthe midst of the darkness and confusion, all that concerned Mademoiselled'Arlange stood out clear and luminous. All his actions from the momentwhen he embraced Claire appeared before him. He shuddered, and his hairwas in a moment soaking with perspiration. 

He had almost become an assassin. The proof that he was restored to fullpossession of his faculties was, that a question of criminal law crossedhis brain. 

"The crime committed, " said he to himself, "should I have beencondemned? Yes. Was I responsible? No. Is crime merely the result ofmental alienation? Was I mad? Or was I in that peculiar state of mindwhich usually precedes an illegal attempt? Who can say? Why have not alljudges passed through an incomprehensible crisis such as mine? But whowould believe me, were I to recount my experience?"

Some days later, he was sufficiently recovered to tell his father all. The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders, and assured him it was but areminiscence of his delirium. 

The good old man was moved at the story of his son's luckless wooing, without seeing therein, however, an irreparable misfortune. He advisedhim to think of something else, placed at his disposal his entirefortune, and recommended him to marry a stout Poitevine heiress, verygay and healthy, who would bear him some fine children. Then, as hisestate was suffering by his absence, he returned home. Two months later, the investigating magistrate had resumed his ordinary avocations. Buttry as he would, he only went through his duties like a body without asoul. He felt that something was broken. 

Once he ventured to pay a visit to his old friend, the marchioness. Onseeing him, she uttered a cry of terror. She took him for a spectre, somuch was he changed in appearance. 

As she dreaded dismal faces, she ever after shut her door to him. 

Claire was ill for a week after seeing him. "How he loved me, " thoughtshe! "It has almost killed him! Can Albert love me as much?" She did notdare to answer herself. She felt a desire to console him, to speak tohim, attempt something; but he came no more. 

M. Daburon was not, however, a man to give way without a struggle. Hetried, as his father advised him, to distract his thoughts. He soughtfor pleasure, and found disgust, but not forgetfulness. Often he wentso far as the threshold of debauchery; but the pure figure of Claire, dressed in white garments, always barred the doors against him. 

Then he took refuge in work, as in a sanctuary; condemned himself to themost incessant labour, and forbade himself to think of Claire, as theconsumptive forbids himself to meditate upon his malady. 

His eagerness, his feverish activity, earned him the reputation of anambitious man, who would go far; but he cared for nothing in the world. 

At length, he found, not rest, but that painless benumbing whichcommonly follows a great catastrophe. The convalescence of oblivion wascommencing. 

These were the events, recalled to M. Daburon's mind when old Tabaretpronounced the name of Commarin. He believed them buried under the ashesof time; and behold they reappeared, just the same as those characterstraced in sympathetic ink when held before a fire. In an instant theyunrolled themselves before his memory, with the instantaneousness of adream annihilating time and space. 

During some minutes, he assisted at the representation of his own life. At once actor and spectator, he was there seated in his arm-chair, and at the same time he appeared on the stage. He acted, and he judgedhimself. 

His first thought, it must be confessed, was one of hate, followed bya detestable feeling of satisfaction. Chance had, so to say, deliveredinto his hands this man preferred by Claire, this man, now no longer ahaughty nobleman, illustrious by his fortune and his ancestors, but theillegitimate offspring of a courtesan. To retain a stolen name, he hadcommitted a most cowardly assassination. And he, the magistrate, wasabout to experience the infinite gratification of striking his enemywith the sword of justice. 

But this was only a passing thought. The man's upright consciencerevolted against it, and made its powerful voice heard. 

"Is anything, " it cried, "more monstrous than the association of thesetwo ideas, --hatred and justice? Can a magistrate, without despisinghimself more than he despises the vile beings he condemns, recollectthat a criminal, whose fate is in his hands, has been his enemy? Has aninvestigating magistrate the right to make use of his exceptional powersin dealing with a prisoner; so long as he harbours the least resentmentagainst him?"

M. Daburon repeated to himself what he had so frequently thought duringthe year, when commencing a fresh investigation: "And I also, I almoststained myself with a vile murder!"

And now it was his duty to cause to be arrested, to interrogate, andhand over to the assizes the man he had once resolved to kill. 

All the world, it is true, ignored this crime of thought and intention;but could he himself forget it? Was not this, of all others, a case inwhich he should decline to be mixed up? Ought he not to withdraw, andwash his hands of the blood that had been shed, leaving to another thetask of avenging him in the name of society?

"No, " said he, "it would be a cowardice unworthy of me. "

A project of mad generosity occurred to the bewildered man. "If I savehim, " murmured he, "if for Claire's sake I leave him his honour and hislife. But how can I save him? To do so I shall be obliged to suppressold Tabaret's discoveries, and make an accomplice of him by ensuring hissilence. We shall have to follow a wrong track, join Gevrol in runningafter some imaginary murderer. Is this practicable? Besides, to spareAlbert is to defame Noel; it is to assure impunity to the most odious ofcrimes. In short, it is still sacrificing justice to my feelings. "

The magistrate suffered greatly. How choose a path in the midst ofso many perplexities! Impelled by different interests, he wavered, undecided between the most opposite decisions, his mind oscillating fromone extreme to the other. 

What could he do? His reason after this new and unforeseen shock vainlysought to regain its equilibrium. 

"Resign?" said he to himself. "Where, then, would be my courage? OughtI not rather to remain the representative of the law, incapable ofemotion, insensible to prejudice? am I so weak that, in assuming myoffice, I am unable to divest myself of my personality? Can I not, forthe present, make abstraction of the past? My duty is to pursue thisinvestigation. Claire herself would desire me to act thus. Would she weda man suspected of a crime? Never. If he is innocent, he will be saved;if guilty, let him perish!"

This was very sound reasoning; but, at the bottom of his heart, athousand disquietudes darted their thorns. He wanted to reassurehimself. 

"Do I still hate this young man?" he continued. "No, certainly. IfClaire has preferred him to me, it is to Claire and not to him I owe mysuffering. My rage was no more than a passing fit of delirium. I willprove it, by letting him find me as much a counsellor as a magistrate. If he is not guilty, he shall make use of all the means in my power toestablish his innocence. Yes, I am worthy to be his judge. Heaven, whoreads all my thoughts, sees that I love Claire enough to desire with allmy heart the innocence of her lover. "

Only then did M. Daburon seem to be vaguely aware of the lapse of time. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning. 

"Goodness!" cried he; "why, old Tabaret is waiting for me. I shallprobably find him asleep. "

But M. Tabaret was not asleep. He had noticed the passage of time nomore than the magistrate. 

Ten minutes had sufficed him to take an inventory of the contents of M. Daburon's study, which was large, and handsomely furnished in accordancewith his position and fortune. Taking up a lamp, he first admired sixvery valuable pictures, which ornamented the walls; he then examinedwith considerable curiosity some rare bronzes placed about the room, andbestowed on the bookcase the glance of a connoisseur. 

After which, taking an evening paper from the table, he approached thehearth, and seated himself in a vast armchair. 

He had not read a third of the leading article, which, like all leadingarticles of the time, was exclusively occupied with the Roman question, when, letting the paper drop from his hands, he became absorbedin meditation. The fixed idea, stronger than one's will, and moreinteresting to him than politics, brought him forcibly back to LaJonchere, where lay the murdered Widow Lerouge. Like the child who againand again builds up and demolishes his house of cards, he arranged andentangled alternately his chain of inductions and arguments. 

In his own mind there was certainly no longer a doubt as regards thissad affair, and it seemed to him that M. Daburon shared his opinions. But yet, what difficulties there still remained to encounter!

There exists between the investigating magistrate and the accused asupreme tribunal, an admirable institution which is a guarantee for all, a powerful moderator, the jury. 

And the jury, thank heaven! do not content themselves with a moralconviction. The strongest probabilities cannot induce them to give anaffirmative verdict. 

Placed upon a neutral ground, between the prosecution and the defence, it demands material and tangible proofs. Where the magistrate wouldcondemn twenty times for one, in all security of conscience, the juryacquit for lack of satisfying evidence. 

The deplorable execution of Lesurques has certainly assured impunity tomany criminals; but, it is necessary to say it justifies hesitation inreceiving circumstantial evidence in capital crimes. 

In short, save where a criminal is taken in the very act, or confesseshis guilt, it is not certain that the minister of justice can secure aconviction. Sometimes the judge of inquiry is as anxious as the accusedhimself. Nearly all crimes are in some particular point mysterious, perhaps impenetrable to justice and the police; and the duty of theadvocate is, to discover this weak point, and thereon establish hisclient's defence. By pointing out this doubt to the jury, he insinuatesin their minds a distrust of the entire evidence; and frequently thedetection of a distorted induction, cleverly exposed, can change theface of a prosecution, and make a strong case appear to the jury a weakone. This uncertainty explains the character of passion which is sooften perceptible in criminal trials. 

And, in proportion to the march of civilisation, juries in importanttrials will become more timid and hesitating. The weight ofresponsibility oppresses the man of conscientious scruple. Alreadynumbers recoil from the idea of capital punishment; and, whenever a jurycan find a peg to hang a doubt on, they will wash their hands of theresponsibility of condemnation. We have seen numbers of persons signingappeals for mercy to a condemned malefactor, condemned for what crime?Parricide! Every juror, from the moment he is sworn, weighs infinitelyless the evidence he has come to listen to than the risk he runs ofincurring the pangs of remorse. Rather than risk the condemnation of oneinnocent man, he will allow twenty scoundrels to go unpunished. 

The accusation must then come before the jury, armed at all points, withabundant proofs. A task often tedious to the investigating magistrate, and bristling with difficulties, is the arrangement and condensation ofthis evidence, particularly when the accused is a cool hand, certain ofhaving left no traces of his guilt. Then from the depths of his dungeonhe defies the assault of justice, and laughs at the judge of inquiry. Itis a terrible struggle, enough to make one tremble at the responsibilityof the magistrate, when he remembers, that after all, this manimprisoned, without consolation or advice, may be innocent. How hard isit, then for the judge to resist his moral convictions!

Even when presumptive evidence points clearly to the criminal, and common sense recognises him, justice is at times compelled toacknowledge her defeat, for lack of what the jury consider sufficientproof of guilt. Thus, unhappily, many crimes escape punishment. An oldadvocate-general said one day that he knew as many as three assassins, living rich, happy, and respected, who would probably end by dying intheir beds, surrounded by their families, and being followed tothe grave with lamentations, and praised for their virtues in theirepitaphs. 

At the idea that a murderer might escape the penalty of his crime, andsteal away from the assize court, old Tabaret's blood fairly boiled inhis veins, as at the recollection of some deadly insult. 

Such a monstrous event, in his opinion, could only proceed from theincapacity of those charged with the preliminary inquiry, the clumsinessof the police, or the stupidity of the investigating magistrate. 

"It is not I, " he muttered, with the satisfied vanity of success, "whowould ever let my prey escape. No crime can be committed, of which theauthor cannot be found, unless, indeed, he happens to be a madman, whosemotive it would be difficult to understand. I would pass my life inpursuit of a criminal, before avowing myself vanquished, as Gevrol hasdone so many times. "

Assisted by chance, he had again succeeded, so he kept repeating tohimself, but what proofs could he furnish to the accusation, to thatconfounded jury, so difficult to convince, so precise and so cowardly?What could he imagine to force so cunning a culprit to betray himself?What trap could he prepare? To what new and infallible stratagem couldhe have recourse?

The amateur detective exhausted himself in subtle but impracticablecombinations, always stopped by that exacting jury, so obnoxious tothe agents of the Rue de Jerusalem. He was so deeply absorbed in histhoughts that he did not hear the door open, and was utterly unconsciousof the magistrate's presence. 

M. Daburon's voice aroused him from his reverie. 

"You will excuse me, M. Tabaret, for having left you so long alone. "

The old fellow rose and bowed respectfully. 

"By my faith, sir, " replied he, "I have not had the leisure to perceivemy solitude. "

M. Daburon crossed the room, and seated himself, facing his agent beforea small table encumbered with papers and documents relating to thecrime. He appeared very much fatigued. 

"I have reflected a good deal, " he commenced, "about this affair--"

"And I, " interrupted old Tabaret, "was just asking myself what waslikely to be the attitude assumed by the viscount at the moment of hisarrest. Nothing is more important, according to my idea, than his mannerof conducting himself then. Will he fly into a passion? Will he attemptto intimidate the agents? Will he threaten to turn them out of thehouse? These are generally the tactics of titled criminals. My opinion, however, is, that he will remain perfectly cool. He will declare himselfthe victim of a misunderstanding, and insist upon an immediate interviewwith the investigating magistrate. Once that is accorded him, he willexplain everything very quickly. "

The old fellow spoke of matters of speculation in such a tone ofassurance that M. Daburon was unable to repress a smile. 

"We have not got as far as that yet, " said he. 

"But we shall, in a few hours, " replied M. Tabaret quickly. "I presumeyou will order young M. De Commarin's arrest at daybreak. "

The magistrate trembled, like the patient who sees the surgeon deposithis case of instruments upon the table on entering the room. 

The moment for action had come. He felt now what a distance lies betweena mental decision and the physical action required to execute it. 

"You are prompt, M. Tabaret, " said he; "you recognize no obstacles. "

"None, having ascertained the criminal. Who else can have committed thisassassination? Who but he had an interest in silencing Widow Lerouge, in suppressing her testimony, in destroying her papers? He, and only he. Poor Noel! who is as dull as honesty, warned him, and he acted. Shouldwe fail to establish his guilt, he will remain de Commarin more thanever; and my young advocate will be Noel Gerdy to the grave. "

"Yes, but--"

The old man fixed his eyes upon the magistrate with a look ofastonishment. 

"You see, then, some difficulties, sir?" he asked. 

"Most decidedly!" replied M. Daburon. "This is a matter demanding theutmost circumspection. In cases like the present, one must not strikeuntil the blow is sure, and we have but presumptions. Suppose we aremistaken. Justice, unhappily, cannot repair her errors. Her hand onceunjustly placed upon a man, leaves an imprint of dishonour that cannever be effaced. She may perceive her error, and proclaim it aloud, but in vain! Public opinion, absurd and idiotic, will not pardon the manguilty of being suspected. "

It was with a sinking heart that the old fellow listened to theseremarks. He would not be withheld by such paltry considerations. 

"Our suspicions are well grounded, " continued the magistrate. "But, should they lead us into error, our precipitation would be a terriblemisfortune for this young man, to say nothing of the effect it wouldhave in abridging the authority and dignity of justice, of weakeningthe respect which constitutes her power. Such a mistake would call fordiscussion, provoke examination, and awaken distrust, at an epoch in ourhistory when all minds are but too much disposed to defy the constitutedauthorities. "

He leaned upon the table, and appeared to reflect profoundly. 

"I have no luck, " thought old Tabaret. "I have to do with a trembler. When he should act, he makes speeches; instead of signing warrants, hepropounds theories. He is astounded at my discovery, and is not equal tothe situation. Instead of being delighted by my appearance with the newsof our success, he would have given a twenty-franc piece, I dare say, tohave been left undisturbed. Ah! he would very willingly have the littlefishes in his net, but the big ones frighten him. The big fishes aredangerous, and he prefers to let them swim away. "

"Perhaps, " said M. Daburon, aloud, "it will suffice to issue asearch-warrant, and a summons for the appearance of the accused. "

"Then all is lost!" cried old Tabaret. 

"And why, pray?"

"Because we are opposed by a criminal of marked ability. A mostprovidential accident has placed us upon his track. If we give him timeto breathe, he will escape. "

The only answer was an inclination of the head, which M. Daburon mayhave intended for a sign of assent. 

"It is evident, " continued the old fellow, "that our adversary hasforeseen everything, absolutely everything, even the possibility ofsuspicion attaching to one in his high position. Oh! his precautionsare all taken. If you are satisfied with demanding his appearance, heis saved. He will appear before you as tranquilly as your clerk, asunconcerned as if he came to arrange the preliminaries of a duel. Hewill present you with a magnificent _alibi_, an _alibi_ that can not begainsayed. He will show you that he passed the evening and the nightof Tuesday with personages of the highest rank. In short, his littlemachine will be so cleverly constructed, so nicely arranged, all itslittle wheels will play so well, that there will be nothing left for youbut to open the door and usher him out with the most humble apologies. The only means of securing conviction is to surprise the miscreant bya rapidity against which it is impossible he can be on his guard. Fallupon him like a thunder-clap, arrest him as he wakes, drag him hitherwhile yet pale with astonishment, and interrogate him at once. Ah! Iwish I were an investigating magistrate. "

Old Tabaret stopped short, frightened at the idea that he had beenwanting in respect; but M. Daburon showed no sign of being offended. 

"Proceed, " said he, in a tone of encouragement, "proceed. "

"Suppose, then, " continued the detective, "I am the investigatingmagistrate. I cause my man to be arrested, and, twenty minutes later, he is standing before me. I do not amuse myself by putting questions tohim, more or less subtle. No, I go straight to the mark. I overwhelm himat once by the weight of my certainty, prove to him so clearly that Iknow everything, that he must surrender, seeing no chance of escape. I should say to him, 'My good man, you bring me an _alibi_; it is verywell; but I am acquainted with that system of defence. It will not dowith me. I know all about the clocks that don't keep proper time, andall the people who never lost sight of you. In the meantime, this iswhat you did. At twenty minutes past eight, you slipped away adroitly;at thirty-five minutes past eight, you took the train at the St Lazarestation; at nine o'clock, you alighted at the station at Rueil, andtook the road to La Jonchere; at a quarter past nine, you knocked at thewindow-shutter of Widow Lerouge's cottage. You were admitted. You askedfor something to eat, and, above all, something to drink. At twentyminutes past nine, you planted the well-sharpened end of a foil betweenher shoulders. You killed her! You then overturned everything in thehouse, and burned certain documents of importance; after which, you tiedup in a napkin all the valuables you could find, and carried them off, to lead the police to believe the murder was the work of a robber. Youlocked the door, and threw away the key. Arrived at the Seine, you threwthe bundle into the water, then hurried off to the railway station onfoot, and at eleven o'clock you reappeared amongst your friends. Your game was well played; but you omitted to provide against twoadversaries, a detective, not easily deceived, named Tirauclair, andanother still more clever, named chance. Between them, they have got thebetter of you. Moreover, you were foolish to wear such small boots, andto keep on your lavender kid gloves, besides embarrassing yourself witha silk hat and an umbrella. Now confess your guilt, for it is the onlything left you to do, and I will give you permission to smoke in yourdungeon some of those excellent trabucos you are so fond of, and whichyou always smoke with an amber mouthpiece. '"

During this speech, M. Tabaret had gained at least a couple of inches inheight, so great was his enthusiasm. He looked at the magistrate, as ifexpecting a smile of approbation. 

"Yes, " continued he, after taking breath, "I would say that, and nothingelse; and, unless this man is a hundred times stronger than I supposehim to be, unless he is made of bronze, of marble, or of steel, he wouldfall at my feet and avow his guilt. "

"But supposing he were of bronze, " said M. Daburon, "and did not fall atyour feet, what would you do next?"

The question evidently embarrassed the old fellow. 

"Pshaw!" stammered he; "I don't know; I would see; I would search; buthe would confess. "

After a prolonged silence, M. Daburon took a pen, and hurriedly wrote afew lines. 

"I surrender, " said he. "M. Albert de Commarin shall be arrested;that is settled. The different formalities to be gone through andthe perquisitions will occupy some time, which I wish to employ ininterrogating the Count de Commarin, the young man's father, and yourfriend M. Noel Gerdy, the young advocate. The letters he possesses areindispensable to me. "

At the name of Gerdy, M. Tabaret's face assumed a most comicalexpression of uneasiness. 

"Confound it, " cried he, "the very thing I most dreaded. "

"What?" asked M. Daburon. 

"The necessity for the examination of those letters. Noel will discovermy interference. He will despise me: he will fly from me, when he knowsthat Tabaret and Tirauclair sleep in the same nightcap. Before eightdays are past, my oldest friends will refuse to shake hands with me, asif it were not an honour to serve justice. I shall be obliged to changemy residence, and assume a false name. "

He almost wept, so great was his annoyance. M. Daburon was touched. 

"Reassure yourself, my dear M. Tabaret, " said he. "I will manage thatyour adopted son, your Benjamin, shall know nothing. I will lead him tobelieve I have reached him by means of the widow's papers. "

The old fellow seized the magistrate's hand in a transport of gratitude, and carried it to his lips. Oh! thanks, sir, a thousand thanks! I shouldlike to be permitted to witness the arrest; and I shall be glad toassist at the perquisitions. "

"I intended to ask you to do so, M. Tabaret, " answered the magistrate. 

The lamps paled in the gray dawn of the morning; already the rumbling ofvehicles was heard; Paris was awaking. 

"I have no time to lose, " continued M. Daburon, "if I would have all mymeasures well taken. I must at once see the public prosecutor, whetherhe is up or not. I shall go direct from his house to the Palais deJustice, and be there before eight o'clock; and I desire, M. Tabaret, that you will there await my orders. "

The old fellow bowed his thanks and was about to leave, when themagistrate's servant appeared. 

"Here is a note, sir, " said he, "which a gendarme has just brought fromBougival. He waits an answer. "

"Very well, " replied M. Daburon. "Ask the man to have some refreshment;at least offer him a glass of wine. "

He opened the envelope. "Ah!" he cried, "a letter from Gevrol;" and heread:

"'To the investigating magistrate. Sir, I have the honour to inform you, that I am on the track of the man with the earrings. I heard of him ata wine shop, which he entered on Sunday morning, before going to WidowLerouge's cottage. He bought, and paid for two litres of wine; then, suddenly striking his forehead, he cried, "Old fool! to forget thatto-morrow is the boat's fete day!" and immediately called for threemore litres. According to the almanac the boat must be called theSaint-Martin. I have also learned that she was laden with grain. I writeto the Prefecture at the same time as I write to you, that inquiries maybe made at Paris and Rouen. He will be found at one of those places. Iam in waiting, sir, etc. '"

"Poor Gevrol!" cried old Tabaret, bursting with laughter. "He sharpenshis sabre, and the battle is over. Are you not going to put a stop tohis inquiries, sir?"

"No; certainly not, " answered M. Daburon; "to neglect the slightest clueoften leads one into error. Who can tell what light we may receive fromthis mariner?"

CHAPTER VIII. 

On the same day that the crime of La Jonchere was discovered, andprecisely at the hour that M. Tabaret made his memorable examinationin the victim's chamber, the Viscount Albert de Commarin entered hiscarriage, and proceeded to the Northern railway station, to meet hisfather. 

The young man was very pale: his pinched features, his dull eyes, hisblanched lips, in fact his whole appearance denoted either overwhelmingfatigue or unusual sorrow. All the servants had observed, that, duringthe past five days, their young master had not been in his ordinarycondition: he spoke but little, ate almost nothing, and refused to seeany visitors. His valet noticed that this singular change dated fromthe visit, on Sunday morning, of a certain M. Noel Gerdy, who had beencloseted with him for three hours in the library. 

The Viscount, gay as a lark until the arrival of this person, had, fromthe moment of his departure, the appearance of a man at the point ofdeath. When setting forth to meet his father, the viscount appeared tosuffer so acutely that M. Lubin, his valet, entreated him not to go out;suggesting that it would be more prudent to retire to his room, and callin the doctor. 

But the Count de Commarin was exacting on the score of filial duty, andwould overlook the worst of youthful indiscretions sooner than what hetermed a want of reverence. He had announced his intended arrivalby telegraph, twenty-four hours in advance; therefore the house wasexpected to be in perfect readiness to receive him, and the absence ofAlbert at the railway station would have been resented as a flagrantomission of duty. 

The viscount had been but five minutes in the waiting-room, when thebell announced the arrival of the train. Soon the doors leading onto the platform were opened, and the travelers crowded in. The throngbeginning to thin a little, the count appeared, followed by a servant, who carried a travelling pelisse lined with rare and valuable fur. 

The Count de Commarin looked a good ten years less than his age. Hisbeard and hair, yet abundant, were scarcely gray. He was tall andmuscular, held himself upright, and carried his head high. Hisappearance was noble, his movements easy. His regular features presenteda study to the physiognomist, all expressing easy, careless goodnature, even to the handsome, smiling mouth; but in his eyes flashed thefiercest and the most arrogant pride. This contrast revealed the secretof his character. Imbued quite as deeply with aristocratic prejudiceas the Marchioness d'Arlange, he had progressed with his century or atleast appeared to have done so. As fully as the marchioness, he held incontempt all who were not noble; but his disdain expressed itself in adifferent fashion. The marchioness proclaimed her contempt loudly andcoarsely; the count had kept eyes and ears open and had seen and hearda good deal. She was stupid, and without a shade of common sense. He waswitty and sensible, and possessed enlarged views of life and politics. She dreamed of the return of the absurd traditions of a former age;he hoped for things within the power of events to bring forth. He wassincerely persuaded that the nobles of France would yet recover slowlyand silently, but surely, all their lost power, with its prestige andinfluence. 

In a word, the count was the flattered portrait of his class; themarchioness its caricature. It should be added, that M. De Commarin knewhow to divest himself of his crushing urbanity in the company of hisequals. There he recovered his true character, haughty, self-sufficient, and intractable, enduring contradiction pretty much as a wild horse theapplication of the spur. In his own house, he was a despot. 

Perceiving his father, Albert advanced towards him. They shook handsand embraced with an air as noble as ceremonious, and, in less thana minute, had exchanged all the news that had transpired during thecount's absence. Then only did M. De Commarin perceive the alteration inhis son's face. 

"You are unwell, viscount, " said he. 

"Oh, no, sir, " answered Albert, laconically. 

The count uttered "Ah!" accompanied by a certain movement of the head, which, with him, expressed perfect incredulity; then, turning to hisservant, he gave him some orders briefly. 

"Now, " resumed he, "let us go quickly to the house. I am in haste tofeel at home; and I am hungry, having had nothing to-day, but somedetestable broth, at I know not what way station. "

M. De Commarin had returned to Paris in a very bad temper, his journeyto Austria had not brought the results he had hoped for. To crown hisdissatisfaction, he had rested, on his homeward way, at the chateau ofan old friend, with whom he had had so violent a discussion that theyhad parted without shaking hands. The count was hardly seated in hiscarriage before he entered upon the subject of this disagreement. 

"I have quarrelled with the Duke de Sairmeuse, " said he to his son. 

"That seems to me to happen whenever you meet, " answered Albert, withoutintending any raillery. 

"True, " said the count: "but this is serious. I passed four days at hiscountry-seat, in a state of inconceivable exasperation. He has entirelyforfeited my esteem. Sairmeuse has sold his estate of Gondresy, one ofthe finest in the north of France. He has cut down the timber, andput up to auction the old chateau, a princely dwelling, which is to beconverted into a sugar refinery; all this for the purpose, as he says, of raising money to increase his income!"

"And was that the cause of your rupture?" inquired Albert, without muchsurprise. 

"Certainly it was! Do you not think it a sufficient one?"

"But, sir, you know the duke has a large family, and is far from rich. "

"What of that? A French noble who sells his land commits an unworthyact. He is guilty of treason against his order!"

"Oh, sir, " said Albert, deprecatingly. 

"I said treason!" continued the count. "I maintain the word. Rememberwell, viscount, power has been, and always will be, on the side ofwealth, especially on the side of those who hold the soil. The men of'93 well understood this principle, and acted upon it. By impoverishingthe nobles, they destroyed their prestige more effectually than byabolishing their titles. A prince dismounted, and without footmen, isno more than any one else. The Minister of July, who said to the people, 'Make yourselves rich, ' was not a fool. He gave them the magic formulafor power. But they have not the sense to understand it. They want togo too fast. They launch into speculations, and become rich, it is true;but in what? Stocks, bonds, paper, --rags, in short. It is smoke they arelocking in their coffers. They prefer to invest in merchandise, whichpays eight or ten per cent, to investing in vines or corn which willreturn but three. The peasant is not so foolish. From the moment he ownsa piece of ground the size of a handkerchief, he wants to make it aslarge as a tablecloth. He is slow as the oxen he ploughs with, but aspatient, as tenacious, and as obstinate. He goes directly to his object, pressing firmly against the yoke; and nothing can stop or turn himaside. He knows that stocks may rise or fall, fortunes be won or lost on'change; but the land always remains, --the real standard of wealth. Tobecome landholders, the peasant starves himself, wears sabots in winter;and the imbeciles who laugh at him will be astonished by and by when hemakes his '93, and the peasant becomes a baron in power if not in name. "

"I do not understand the application, " said the viscount. 

"You do not understand? Why, what the peasant is doing is what thenobles ought to have done! Ruined, their duty was to reconstruct theirfortunes. Commerce is interdicted to us; be it so: agriculture remains. Instead of grumbling uselessly during the half-century, instead ofrunning themselves into debt, in the ridiculous attempt to support anappearance of grandeur, they ought to have retreated to their provinces, shut themselves up in their chateaux; there worked, economised, deniedthemselves, as the peasant is doing, purchased the land piece by piece. Had they taken this course, they would to-day possess France. Theirwealth would be enormous; for the value of land rises year after year. I have, without effort, doubled my fortune in thirty years. Blauville, which cost my father a hundred crowns in 1817, is worth to-day morethan a million: so that, when I hear the nobles complain, I shrug theshoulder. Who but they are to blame? They impoverish themselves fromyear to year. They sell their land to the peasants. Soon they will bereduced to beggary, and their escutcheons. What consoles me is, thatthe peasant, having become the proprietor of our domains will then beall-powerful, and will yoke to his chariot wheels these traders in scripand stocks, whom he hates as much as I execrate them myself. "

The carriage at this moment stopped in the court-yard of the de Commarinmansion, after having described that perfect half-circle, the glory ofcoachmen who preserve the old tradition. 

The count alighted first, and leaning upon his son's arm, ascended thesteps of the grand entrance. In the immense vestibule, nearly all theservants, dressed in rich liveries, stood in a line. The count gave thema glance, in passing, as an officer might his soldiers on parade, andproceeded to his apartment on the first floor, above the receptionrooms. 

Never was there a better regulated household than that of the Countde Commarin. He possessed in a high degree the art, more rare than isgenerally supposed, of commanding an army of servants. The number of hisdomestics caused him neither inconvenience nor embarrassment. They werenecessary to him. So perfect was the organisation of this household, that its functions were performed like those of a machine, --withoutnoise, variation, or effort. 

Thus when the count returned from his journey, the sleeping hotel wasawakened as if by the spell of an enchanter. Each servant was at hispost; and the occupations, interrupted during the past six weeks, resumed without confusion. As the count was known to have passed the dayon the road, the dinner was served in advance of the usual hour. All theestablishment, even to the lowest scullion, represented the spiritof the first article of the rules of the house, "Servants are not toexecute orders, but anticipate them. "

M. De Commarin had hardly removed the traces of his journey, and changedhis dress, when his butler announced that the dinner was served. 

He went down at once; and father and son met upon the threshold of thedining-room. This was a large apartment, with a very high ceiling, as were all the rooms of the ground floor, and was most magnificentlyfurnished. The count was not only a great eater, but was vain of hisenormous appetite. He was fond of recalling the names of great men, noted for their capacity of stomach. Charles V. Devoured mountains ofviands. Louis XIV. Swallowed at each repast as much as six ordinary menwould eat at a meal. He pretended that one can almost judge of men'squalities by their digestive capacities; he compared them to lamps, whose power of giving light is in proportion to the oil they consume. 

During the first half hour, the count and his son both remained silent. M. De Commarin ate conscientiously, not perceiving or not caring tonotice that Albert ate nothing, but merely sat at the table as if tocountenance him. The old nobleman's ill-humour and volubility returnedwith the dessert, apparently increased by a Burgundy of which he wasparticularly fond, and of which he drank freely. 

He was partial, moreover, to an after dinner argument, professing atheory that moderate discussion is a perfect digestive. A letter whichhad been delivered to him on his arrival, and which he had found time toglance over, gave him at once a subject and a point of departure. 

"I arrived home but an hour ago;" said he, "and I have already receiveda homily from Broisfresnay. "

"He writes a great deal, " observed Albert. 

"Too much; he consumes himself in ink. He mentions a lot more of hisridiculous projects and vain hopes, and he mentions a dozen names of menof his own stamp who are his associates. On my word of honour, they seemto have lost their senses! They talk of lifting the world, onlythey want a lever and something to rest it on. It makes me die withlaughter!"

For ten minutes the count continued to discharge a volley of abuse andsarcasm against his best friends, without seeming to see that a greatmany of their foibles which he ridiculed were also a little his own. 

"If, " continued he more seriously, --"if they only possessed a littleconfidence in themselves, if they showed the least audacity! Butno! they count upon others to do for them what they ought to do forthemselves. In short, their proceedings are a series of confessions ofhelplessness, of premature declarations of failure. "

The coffee having been served, the count made a sign, and the servantsleft the room. 

"No, " continued he, "I see but one hope for the French aristocracy, butone plank of salvation, one good little law, establishing the right ofprimogeniture. "

"You will never obtain it. "

"You think not? Would you then oppose such a measure, viscount?"

Albert knew by experience what dangerous ground his father wasapproaching, and remained silent. 

"Let us put it, then, that I dream of the impossible!" resumed thecount. "Then let the nobles do their duty. Let all the younger sons andthe daughters of our great families forego their rights, by giving upthe entire patrimony to the first-born for five generations, contentingthemselves each with a couple of thousand francs a year. By that meansgreat fortunes can be reconstructed, and families, instead of beingdivided by a variety of interests, become united by one common desire. "

"Unfortunately, " objected the viscount, "the time is not favorable tosuch devotedness. "

"I know it, sir, " replied the count quickly; "and in my own house I havethe proof of it. I, your father, have conjured you to give up allidea of marrying the granddaughter of that old fool, the Marchionessd'Arlange. And all to no purpose; for I have at last been obliged toyield to your wishes. "

"Father--" Albert commenced. 

"It is well, " interrupted the count. "You have my word; but remember myprediction: you will strike a fatal blow at our house. You will be oneof the largest proprietors in France; but have half a dozen children, and they will be hardly rich. If they also have as many, you willprobably see your grandchildren in poverty!"

"You put all at the worst, father. "

"Without doubt: it is the only means of pointing out the danger, andaverting the evil. You talk of your life's happiness. What is that? Atrue noble thinks of his name above all. Mademoiselle d'Arlange isvery pretty, and very attractive; but she is penniless. I had found anheiress for you. "

"Whom I should never love!"

"And what of that? She would have brought you four millions in herapron, --more than the kings of to-day give their daughters. Besideswhich she had great expectations. "

The discussion upon this subject would have been interminable, hadAlbert taken an active share in it; but his thoughts were far away. Heanswered from time to time so as not to appear absolutely dumb, and thenonly a few syllables. This absence of opposition was more irritating tothe count than the most obstinate contradiction. He therefore directedhis utmost efforts to excite his son to argue. 

However he was vainly prodigal of words, and unsparing in unpleasantallusions, so that at last he fairly lost his temper, and, on receivinga laconic reply, he burst forth: "Upon my word, the butler's son wouldsay the same as you! What blood have you in your veins? You are morelike one of the people than a Viscount de Commarin!"

There are certain conditions of mind in which the least conversationjars upon the nerves. During the last hour, Albert had suffered anintolerable punishment. The patience with which he had armed himself atlast escaped him. 

"Well, sir, " he answered, "if I resemble one of the people, there areperhaps good reasons for it. "

The glance with which the viscount accompanied his speech was soexpressive that the count experienced a sudden shock. All his animationforsook him, and in a hesitating voice, he asked: "What is that you say, viscount?"

Albert had no sooner uttered the sentence than he regretted hisprecipitation, but he had gone too far to stop. 

"Sir, " he replied with some embarrassment, "I have to acquaint you withsome important matters. My honour, yours, the honour of our house, areinvolved. I intended postponing this conversation till to-morrow, notdesiring to trouble you on the evening of your return. However, as youwish me to explain, I will do so. "

The count listened with ill-concealed anxiety. He seemed to have divinedwhat his son was about to say, and was terrified at himself for havingdivined it. 

"Believe me, sir, " continued Albert slowly, "whatever may have beenyour acts, my voice will never be raised to reproach you. Your constantkindness to me--"

M. De Commarin held up his hand. "A truce to preambles; let me have thefacts without phrases, " said he sternly. 

Albert was some time without answering, he hesitated how to commence. 

"Sir, " said he at length, "during your absence, I have read all yourcorrespondence with Madame Gerdy. All!" added he, emphasising the word, already so significant. 

The count, as though stung by a serpent, started up with such violencethat he overturned his chair. 

"Not another word!" cried he in a terrible voice. "I forbid you tospeak!" But he no doubt soon felt ashamed of his violence, for hequietly raised his chair, and resumed in a tone which he strove torender light and rallying: "Who will hereafter refuse to believe inpresentiments? A couple of hours ago, on seeing your pale face atthe railway station, I felt that you had learned more or less of thisaffair. I was sure of it. "

There was a long silence. With one accord, father and son avoidedletting their eyes meet, lest they might encounter glances too eloquentto bear at so painful a moment. 

"You were right, sir, " continued the count, "our honour is involved. Itis important that we should decide on our future conduct without delay. Will you follow me to my room?"

He rang the bell, and a footman appeared almost immediately. 

"Neither the viscount nor I am at home to any one, " said M. De Commarin, "no matter whom. "

CHAPTER IX. 

The revelation which had just taken place, irritated much more thanit surprised the Count de Commarin. For twenty years, he had beenconstantly expecting to see the truth brought to light. He knew thatthere can be no secret so carefully guarded that it may not by somechance escape; and his had been known to four people, three of whom werestill living. 

He had not forgotten that he had been imprudent enough to trust it topaper, knowing all the while that it ought never to have been written. How was it that he, a prudent diplomat, a statesman, full of precaution, had been so foolish? How was it that he had allowed this fatalcorrespondence to remain in existence! Why had he not destroyed, at nomatter what cost, these overwhelming proofs, which sooner or later mightbe used against him? Such imprudence could only have arisen from anabsurd passion, blind and insensible, even to madness. 

So long as he was Valerie's lover, the count never thought of askingthe return of his letters from his beloved accomplice. If the idea hadoccurred to him, he would have repelled it as an insult to the characterof his angel. What reason could he have had to suspect her discretion?None. He would have been much more likely to have supposed her desirousof removing every trace, even the slightest, of what had taken place. Was it not her son who had received the benefits of the deed, who hadusurped another's name and fortune?

When eight years after, believing her to be unfaithful, the count hadput an end to the connection which had given him so much happiness hethought of obtaining possession of this unhappy correspondence. But heknew not how to do so. A thousand reasons prevented his moving in thematter. 

The principal one was, that he did not wish to see this woman, once sodearly loved. He did not feel sufficiently sure either of his anger orof his firmness. Could he, without yielding, resist the tearful pleadingof those eyes, which had so long held complete sway over him?

To look again upon this mistress of his youth would, he feared, resultin his forgiving her; and he had been too cruelly wounded in his prideand in his affection to admit the idea of a reconciliation. 

On the other hand, to obtain the letters though a third party wasentirely out of the question. He abstained, then, from all action, postponing it indefinitely. "I will go to her, " said he to himself; "butnot until I have so torn her from my heart that she will have becomeindifferent to me. I will not gratify her with the sight of my grief. "

So months and years passed on; and finally he began to say and believethat it was too late. And for now more than twenty years, he had neverpassed a day without cursing his inexcusable folly. Never had he beenable to forget that above his head a danger more terrible than the swordof Damocles hung, suspended by a thread, which the slightest accidentmight break. 

And now that thread had broken. Often, when considering the possibilityof such a catastrophe, he had asked himself how he should avert it? Hehad formed and rejected many plans: he had deluded himself, like all menof imagination, with innumerable chimerical projects, and now he foundhimself quite unprepared. 

Albert stood respectfully, while his father sat in his great armorialchair, just beneath the large frame in which the genealogical treeof the illustrious family of Rheteau de Commarin spread its luxuriantbranches. The old gentleman completely concealed the cruel apprehensionswhich oppressed him. He seemed neither irritated nor dejected; buthis eyes expressed a haughtiness more than usually disdainful, and aself-reliance full of contempt. 

"Now viscount, " he began in a firm voice, "explain yourself. I need saynothing to you of the position of a father, obliged to blush before hisson; you understand it, and will feel for me. Let us spare each other, and try to be calm. Tell me, how did you obtain your knowledge of thiscorrespondence?"

Albert had had time to recover himself, and prepare for the presentstruggle, as he had impatiently waited four days for this interview. 

The difficulty he experienced in uttering the first words had now givenplace to a dignified and proud demeanor. He expressed himself clearlyand forcibly, without losing himself in those details which in seriousmatters needlessly defer the real point at issue. 

"Sir, " he replied, "on Sunday morning, a young man called here, statingthat he had business with me of the utmost importance. I receivedhim. He then revealed to me that I, alas! am only your natural son, substituted through your affection, for the legitimate child borne youby Madame de Commarin. "

"And did you not have this man kicked out of doors?" exclaimed thecount. 

"No, sir. I was about to answer him very sharply, of course; but, presenting me with a packet of letters, he begged me to read them beforereplying. "

"Ah!" cried M. De Commarin, "you should have thrown them into the fire, for there was a fire, I suppose? You held them in your hands; and theystill exist! Why was I not there?"

"Sir!" said Albert, reproachfully. And, recalling the position Noel hadoccupied against the mantelpiece, and the manner in which he stood, headded, --"Even if the thought had occurred to me, it was impracticable. Besides, at the first glance, I recognised your handwriting. I thereforetook the letters, and read them. "

"And then?"

"And then, sir, I returned the correspondence to the young man, andasked for a delay of eight days; not to think over it myself--therewas no need of that, --but because I judged an interview with youindispensable. Now, therefore, I beseech you, tell me whether thissubstitution really did take place. 

"Certainly it did, " replied the count violently, "yes, certainly. Youknow that it did, for you have read what I wrote to Madame Gerdy, yourmother. "

Albert had foreseen, had expected this reply; but it crushed himnevertheless. 

There are misfortunes so great, that one must constantly think of themto believe in their existence. This flinching, however, lasted but aninstant. 

"Pardon me, sir, " he replied. "I was almost convinced; but I had notreceived a formal assurance of it. All the letters that I read spokedistinctly of your purpose, detailed your plan minutely; but not onepointed to, or in any way confirmed, the execution of your project. "

The count gazed at his son with a look of intense surprise. Herecollected distinctly all the letters; and he could remember, that, in writing to Valerie, he had over and over again rejoiced at theirsuccess, thanking her for having acted in accordance with his wishes. 

"You did not go to the end of them, then, viscount, " he said, "you didnot read them all?"

"Every line, sir, and with an attention that you may well understand. The last letter shown me simply announced to Madame Gerdy the arrivalof Claudine Lerouge, the nurse who was charged with accomplishing thesubstitution. I know nothing beyond that. "

"These proofs amount to nothing, " muttered the count. "A man may form aplan, cherish it for a long time, and at the last moment abandon it; itoften happens so. "

He reproached himself for having answered so hastily. Albert had hadonly serious suspicions, and he had changed them to certainty. Whatstupidity!

"There can be no possible doubt, " he said to himself; "Valerie hasdestroyed the most conclusive letters, those which appeared to her themost dangerous, those I wrote after the substitution. But why has shepreserved these others, compromising enough in themselves? and why, after having preserved them, has she let them go out of her possession?"

Without moving, Albert awaited a word from the count. What would it be?No doubt, the old nobleman was at that moment deciding what he shoulddo. 

"Perhaps she is dead!" said M. De Commarin aloud. 

And at the thought that Valerie was dead, without his having again seenher, he started painfully. His heart, after more than twenty years ofvoluntary separation, still suffered, so deeply rooted was this firstlove of his youth. He had cursed her; at this moment he pardoned her. True, she had deceived him; but did he not owe to her the only years ofhappiness he had ever known? Had she not formed all the poetry of hisyouth? Had he experienced, since leaving her, one single hour of joyor forgetfulness? In his present frame of mind, his heart retained onlyhappy memories, like a vase which, once filled with precious perfumes, retains the odour until it is destroyed. 

"Poor woman!" he murmured. 

He sighed deeply. Three or four times his eyelids trembled, as if a tearwere about to fall. Albert watched him with anxious curiosity. This wasthe first time since the viscount had grown to man's estate that he hadsurprised in his father's countenance other emotion than ambition orpride, triumphant or defeated. But M. De Commarin was not the man toyield long to sentiment. 

"You have not told me, viscount, " he said, "who sent you that messengerof misfortune. "

"He came in person, sir, not wishing, he told me to mix any others up inthis sad affair. The young man was no other than he whose place I haveoccupied, --your legitimate son, M. Noel Gerdy himself. "

"Yes, " said the count in a low tone, "Noel, that is his name, Iremember. " And then, with evident hesitation, he added: "Did he speak toyou of his--of your mother?"

"Scarcely, sir. He only told me that he came unknown to her; that he hadaccidentally discovered the secret which he revealed to me. "

M. De Commarin asked nothing further. There was more for him to learn. He remained for some time deep in thought. The decisive moment had come;and he saw but one way to escape. 

"Come, viscount, " he said, in a tone so affectionate that Albert wasastonished, "do not stand; sit down here by me, and let us discussthis matter. Let us unite our efforts to shun, if possible, this greatmisfortune. Confide in me, as a son should in his father. Have youthought of what is to be done? have you formed any determination?"

"It seems to me, sir, that hesitation is impossible. "

"In what way?"

"My duty, father, is very plain. Before your legitimate son, I oughtto give way without a murmur, if not without regret. Let him come. Iam ready to yield to him everything that I have so long kept from himwithout a suspicion of the truth--his father's love, his fortune and hisname. "

At this most praiseworthy reply, the old nobleman could scarcelypreserve the calmness he had recommended to his son in the earlier partof the interview. His face grew purple; and he struck the table with hisfist more furiously than he had ever done in his life. He, usually soguarded, so decorous on all occasions, uttered a volley of oaths thatwould not have done discredit to an old cavalry officer. 

"And I tell you, sir, that this dream of yours shall never take place. No; that it sha'n't. I swear it. I promise you, whatever happens, understand, that things shall remain as they are; because it is my will. You are Viscount de Commarin, and Viscount de Commarin you shall remain, in spite of yourself, if necessary. You shall retain the title to yourdeath, or at least to mine; for never, while I live, shall your absurdidea be carried out. "

"But, sir, " began Albert, timidly. 

"You are very daring to interrupt me while I am speaking, sir, "exclaimed the count. "Do I not know all your objections beforehand? Youare going to tell me that it is a revolting injustice, a wicked robbery. I confess it, and grieve over it more than you possibly can. Do youthink that I now for the first time repent of my youthful folly? Fortwenty years, sir, I have lamented my true son; for twenty years I havecursed the wickedness of which he is the victim. And yet I learnt how tokeep silence, and to hide the sorrow and remorse which have covered mypillow with thorns. In a single instant, your senseless yielding wouldrender my long sufferings of no avail. No, I will never permit it!"

The count read a reply on his son's lips: he stopped him with awithering glance. 

"Do you think, " he continued, "that I have never wept over the thoughtof my legitimate son passing his life struggling for a competence? Doyou think that I have never felt a burning desire to repair the wrongdone him? There have been times, sir, when I would have given half of myfortune simply to embrace that child of a wife too tardily appreciated. The fear of casting a shadow of suspicion upon your birth prevented me. I have sacrificed myself to the great name I bear. I received it from myancestors without a stain. May you hand it down to your children equallyspotless! Your first impulse was a worthy one, generous and noble;but you must forget it. Think of the scandal, if our secret shouldbe disclosed to the public gaze. Can you not foresee the joy of ourenemies, of that herd of upstarts which surrounds us? I shudder at thethought of the odium and the ridicule which would cling to our name. Toomany families already have stains upon their escutcheons; I will havenone on mine. "

M. De Commarin remained silent for several minutes, during which Albertdid not dare say a word, so much had he been accustomed since infancy torespect the least wish of the terrible old gentleman. 

"There is no possible way out of it, " continued the count. "Can Idiscard you to-morrow, and present this Noel as my son, saying, 'Excuseme, but there has been a slight mistake; this one is the viscount?' Andthen the tribunals will get hold of it. What does it matter who is namedBenoit, Durand, or Bernard? But, when one is called Commarin, even butfor a single day, one must retain that name through life. The samemoral does not do for everyone; because we have not the same duties toperform. In our position, errors are irreparable. Take courage, then, and show yourself worthy of the name you bear. The storm is upon you;raise your head to meet it. "

Albert's impassibility contributed not a little to increase M. DeCommarin's irritation. Firm in an unchangeable resolution, the viscountlistened like one fulfilling a duty: and his face reflected no emotion. The count saw that he was not shaken. 

"What have you to reply?" he asked. 

"It seems to me sir, that you have no idea of all the dangers which Iforesee. It is difficult to master the revolts of conscience. "

"Indeed!" interrupted the count contemptuously; "your consciencerevolts, does it? It has chosen its time badly. Your scruples cometoo late. So long as you saw that your inheritance consisted of anillustrious title and a dozen or so of millions, it pleased you. To-daythe name appears to you laden with a heavy fault, a crime, if you will;and your conscience revolts. Renounce this folly. Children, sir, areaccountable to their fathers; and they should obey them. Willing orunwilling, you must be my accomplice; willing or unwilling, you mustbear the burden, as I have borne it. And, however much you may suffer, be assured your sufferings can never approach what I have endured for somany years. "

"Ah, sir!" cried Albert, "is it then I, the dispossessor, who has madethis trouble? is it not, on the contrary, the dispossessed! It is not Iwho you have to convince, it is M. Noel Gerdy. "

"Noel!" repeated the count. 

"Your legitimate son, yes, sir. You act as if the issue of this unhappyaffair depended solely upon my will. Do you then, imagine that M. Gerdywill be so easily disposed of, so easily silenced? And, if he shouldraise his voice, do you hope to move him by the considerations you havejust mentioned?"

"I do not fear him. "

"Then you are wrong, sir, permit me to tell you. Suppose for a momentthat this young man has a soul sufficiently noble to relinquish hisclaim upon your rank and your fortune. Is there not now the accumulatedrancour of years to urge him to oppose you? He cannot help feeling afierce resentment for the horrible injustice of which he has been thevictim. He must passionately long for vengeance, or rather reparation. "

"He has no proofs. "

"He has your letters, sir. "

"They are not decisive, you yourself have told me so. "

"That is true, sir; and yet they convinced me, who have an interest innot being convinced. Besides, if he needs witnesses, he will find them. "

"Who? Yourself, viscount?"

"Yourself, sir. The day when he wishes it, you will betray us. Supposeyou were summoned before a tribunal, and that there, under oath, youshould be required to speak the truth, what answer would you make?"

M. De Commarin's face darkened at this very natural supposition. Hehesitated, he whose honour was usually so great. 

"I would save the name of my ancestors, " he said at last. 

Albert shook his head doubtfully. "At the price of a lie, my father, "he said. "I never will believe it. But let us suppose even that. He willthen call Madame Gerdy. "

"Oh, I will answer for her!" cried the count, "her interests are thesame as ours. If necessary, I will see her. Yes, " he added with aneffort, "I will call on her, I will speak to her; and I will guaranteethat she will not betray us. "

"And Claudine, " continued the young man; "will she be silent, too?"

"For money, yes; and I will give her whatever she asks. "

"And you would trust, father, to a paid silence, as if one could everbe sure of a purchased conscience? What is sold to you may be sold toanother. A certain sum may close her mouth; a larger will open it. "

"I will frighten her. "

"You forget, father, that Claudine Lerouge was Noel Gerdy's nurse, thatshe takes an interest in his happiness, that she loves him. How do youknow that he has not already secured her aid? She lives at Bougival. Iwent there, I remember, with you. No doubt, he sees her often; perhapsit is she who put him on the track of this correspondence. He spoke tome of her, as though he were sure of her testimony. He almost proposedmy going to her for information. "

"Alas!" cried the count, "why is not Claudine dead instead of myfaithful Germain?"

"You see, sir, " concluded Albert, "Claudine Lerouge would alone renderall your efforts useless. "

"Ah, no!" cried the count; "I shall find some expedient. "

The obstinate old gentleman was not willing to give in to this argument, the very clearness of which blinded him. The pride of his bloodparalyzed his usual practical good sense. To acknowledge that he wasconquered humiliated him, and seemed to him unworthy of himself. He didnot remember to have met during his long career an invincible resistanceor an absolute impediment. He was like all men of imagination, whofall in love with their projects, and who expect them to succeed on alloccasions, as if wishing hard was all that was necessary to change theirdreams into realities. 

Albert this time broke the silence, which threatened to be prolonged. 

"I see, sir, " he said, "that you fear, above all things, the publicityof this sad history; the possible scandal renders you desperate. But, unless we yield, the scandal will be terrible. There will be a trialwhich will be the talk of all Europe. The newspapers will print thefacts, accompanied by heavens knows what comments of their own. Ourname, however the trial results, will appear in all the papers of theworld. This might be borne, if we were sure of succeeding; but we arebound to lose, my father, we shall lose. Then think of the exposure!think of the dishonour branded upon us by public opinion. "

"I think, " said the count, "that you can have neither respect noraffection for me, when you speak in that way. "

"It is my duty, sir, to point out to you the evils I see threatening, and which there is yet time to shun. M. Noel Gerdy is your legitimateson, recognize him, acknowledge his just pretensions, and receive him. We can make the change very quietly. It is easy to account for it, through a mistake of the nurse, Claudine Lerouge, for instance. Allparties being agreeable, there can be no trouble about it. What isto prevent the new Viscount de Commarin from quitting Paris, anddisappearing for a time? He might travel about Europe for four or fiveyears; by the end of that time, all will be forgotten, and no one willremember me. "

M. De Commarin was not listening; he was deep in thought. 

"But instead of contesting, viscount, " he cried, "we might compromise. We may be able to purchase these letters. What does this young fellowwant? A position and a fortune? I will give him both. I will make himas rich as he can wish. I will give him a million; if need be, two, three, --half of all I possess. With money, you see, much money--"

"Spare him, sir; he is your son. "

"Unfortunately! and I wish him to the devil! I will see him, and he willagree to what I wish. I will prove to him the bad policy of the earthenpot struggling with the iron kettle; and, if he is not a fool, he willunderstand. "

The count rubbed his hands while speaking. He was delighted with thisbrilliant plan of negotiation. It could not fail to result favorably. Acrowd of arguments occurred to his mind in support of it. He would buyback again his lost rest. 

But Albert did not seem to share his father's hopes, "You will perhapsthink it unkind in me, sir, " said he, sadly, "to dispel this lastillusion of yours; but I must. Do not delude yourself with the idea ofan amicable arrangement; the awakening will only be the more painful. I have seen M. Gerdy, my father, and he is not one, I assure you, to beintimidated. If there is an energetic will in the world, it is his. He is truly your son; and his expression, like yours, shows an ironresolution, that may be broken but never bent. I can still hear hisvoice trembling with resentment, while he spoke to me. I can still seethe dark fire of his eyes. No, he will never accept a compromise. Hewill have all or nothing; and I cannot say that he is wrong. If youresist, he will attack you without the slightest consideration. Strongin his rights, he will cling to you with stubborn animosity. He willdrag you from court to court; he will not stop short of utter defeat orcomplete triumph. "

Accustomed to absolute obedience from his son, the old nobleman wasastounded at this unexpected obstinacy. 

"What is your object in saying all this?" he asked. 

"It is this, sir. I should utterly despise myself, if I did not spareyour old age this greatest of calamities. Your name does not belong tome; I will take my own. I am your natural son; I will give up my placeto your legitimate son. Permit me to withdraw with at least the honourof having freely done my duty. Do not force me to wait till I am drivenout in disgrace. "

"What!" cried the count, stunned, "you will abandon me? You refuse tohelp me, you turn against me, you recognize the rights of this man inspite of my wishes?"

Albert bowed his head. He was much moved, but still remained firm. 

"My resolution is irrevocably taken, " he replied. "I can never consentto despoil your son. "

"Cruel, ungrateful boy!" cried M. De Commarin. His wrath was such, that, when he found he could do nothing by abuse, he passed at once tojeering. "But no, " he continued, "you are great, you are noble, you aregenerous; you are acting after the most approved pattern of chivalry, viscount, I should say, my dear M. Gerdy; after the fashion ofPlutarch's time! So you give up my name and my fortune, and you leaveme. You will shake the dust from your shoes upon the threshold of myhouse; and you will go out into the world. I see only one difficulty inyour way. How do you expect to live, my stoic philosopher? Have you atrade at your fingers' ends, like Jean Jacques Rousseau's Emile? Or, worthy M. Gerdy, have you learned economy from the four thousand francsa month I allow you for waxing your moustache? Perhaps you have mademoney on the Bourse! Then my name must have seemed very burdensome toyou to bear, since you so eagerly introduced it into such a place! Hasdirt, then, so great an attraction for you that you must jump fromyour carriage so quickly? Say, rather, that the company of my friendsembarrasses you, and that you are anxious to go where you will be amongyour equals. "

"I am very wretched, sir, " replied Albert to this avalanche of insults, "and you would crush me!"

"You wretched! Well, whose fault is it? But let us get back to myquestion. How and on what will you live?"

"I am not so romantic as you are pleased to say, sir. I must confessthat, as regards the future, I have counted upon your kindness. You areso rich, that five hundred thousand francs would not materially affectyour fortune; and, on the interest of that sum, I could live quietly, ifnot happily. "

"And suppose I refuse you this money?"

"I know you well enough, sir, to feel sure that you will not do so. Youare too just to wish that I alone should expiate wrongs that are not ofmy making. Left to myself, I should at my present age have achieved aposition. It is late for me to try and make one now; but I will do mybest. "

"Superb!" interrupted the count; "you are really superb! One never heardof such a hero of romance. What a character! But tell me, what do youexpect from all this astonishing disinterestedness?"

"Nothing, sir. "

The count shrugged his shoulders, looked sarcastically at his son, andobserved: "The compensation is very slight. And you expect me to believeall this! No, sir, mankind is not in the habit of indulging in such fineactions for its pleasure alone. You must have some reason for acting sograndly; some reason which I fail to see. "

"None but what I have already told you. "

"Therefore it is understood you intend to relinquish everything;you will even abandon your proposed union with Mademoiselle Claired'Arlange? You forget that for two years I have in vain constantlyexpressed my disappointment of this marriage. "

"No, sir. I have seen Mademoiselle Claire; I have explained my unhappyposition to her. Whatever happens, she has sworn to be my wife. "

"And do you think that Madame d'Arlange will give her granddaughter toM. Gerdy?"

"We hope so, sir. The marchioness is sufficiently infected witharistocratic ideas to prefer a nobleman's bastard to the son of somehonest tradesman; but should she refuse, we would await her death, though without desiring it. "

The calm manner in which Albert said this enraged the count. 

"Can this be my son?" he cried. "Never! What blood have you then in yourveins, sir? Your worthy mother alone might tell us, provided, however, she herself knows. "

"Sir, " cried Albert menacingly, "think well before you speak! She ismy mother, and that is sufficient. I am her son, not her judge. No oneshall insult her in my presence, I will not permit it, sir; and I willsuffer it least of all from you. "

The count made great efforts to keep his anger within bounds, butAlbert's behavior thoroughly enraged him. What, his son rebelled, hedared to brave him to his face, he threatened him! The old fellow jumpedfrom his chair, and moved towards the young man as if he would strikehim. 

"Leave the room, " he cried, in a voice choking with rage, "leave theroom instantly! Retire to your apartments, and take care not to leavethem without my orders. To-morrow I will let you know my decision. "

Albert bowed respectfully, but without lowering his eyes and walkedslowly to the door. He had already opened it, when M. De Commarinexperienced one of those revulsions of feeling, so frequent in violentnatures. 

"Albert, " said he, "come here and listen to me. "

The young man turned back, much affected by this change. 

"Do not go, " continued the count, "until I have told you what I think. You are worthy of being the heir of a great house, sir. I may be angrywith you; but I can never lose my esteem for you. You are a noble man, Albert. Give me your hand. "

It was a happy moment for these two men, and such a one as they hadscarcely ever experienced in their lives, restrained as they had been bycold etiquette. The count felt proud of his son, and recognised inhim himself at that age. For a long time their hands remained clasped, without either being able to utter a word. 

At last, M. De Commarin resumed his seat. 

"I must ask you to leave me, Albert, " he said kindly. "I must be aloneto reflect, to try and accustom myself to this terrible blow. "

And, as the young man closed the door, he added, as if giving vent tohis inmost thoughts, "If he, in whom I have placed all my hope, desertsme, what will become of me? And what will the other one be like?"

Albert's features, when he left the count's study, bore traces of theviolent emotions he had felt during the interview. The servants whom hemet noticed it the more, as they had heard something of the quarrel. 

"Well, " said an old footman who had been in the family thirty years, "the count has had another unhappy scene with his son. The old fellowhas been in a dreadful passion. "

"I got wind of it at dinner, " spoke up a valet de chambre: "the countrestrained himself enough not to burst out before me; but he rolled hiseyes fiercely. "

"What can be the matter?"

"Pshaw! that's more than they know themselves. Why, Denis, beforewhom they always speak freely, says that they often wrangle for hourstogether, like dogs, about things which he can never see through. "

"Ah, " cried out a young fellow, who was being trained to service, "ifI were in the viscount's place, I'd settle the old gent prettyeffectually!"

"Joseph, my friend, " said the footman pointedly, "you are a fool. Youmight give your father his walking ticket very properly, because younever expect five sous from him; and you have already learned how toearn your living without doing any work at all. But the viscount, praytell me what he is good for, what he knows how to do? Put him in thecentre of Paris, with only his fine hands for capital, and you willsee. "

"Yes, but he has his mother's property in Normandy, " replied Joseph. 

"I can't for the life of me, " said the valet de chambre, "see whatthe count finds to complain of; for his son is a perfect model, andI shouldn't be sorry to have one like him. There was a very differentpair, when I was in the Marquis de Courtivois's service. He was onewho made it a point never to be in good humor. His eldest son, who isa friend of the viscount's, and who comes here occasionally, is a pitwithout a bottom, as far as money is concerned. He will fritter away athousand-franc note quicker than Joseph can smoke a pipe. "

"But the marquis is not rich, " said a little old man, who himself hadperhaps the enormous wages of fifteen francs; "he can't have more thansixty thousand francs' income at the most. "

"That's why he gets angry. Every day there is some new story abouthis son. He had an apartment in the house; he went in and out when hepleased; he passed his nights in gaming and drinking; he cut up so withthe actresses that the police had to interfere. Besides all this, I havemany a time had to help him up to his room, and put him to bed, when thewaiters from the restaurants brought him home in a carriage, so drunkthat he could scarcely say a word. "

"Ha!" exclaimed Joseph enthusiastically, "this fellow's service must bemighty profitable. "

"That was according to circumstances. When he was at play, he was lavishwith his money; but he always lost: and, when he was drunk, he had aquick temper, and didn't spare the blows. I must do him the justice tosay, though, that his cigars were splendid. But he was a ruffian; whilethe viscount here is a true child of wisdom. He is severe upon ourfaults, it is true; but he is never harsh nor brutal to his servants. Then he is uniformly generous; which in the long run pays us best. Imust say that he is better than the majority, and that the count is veryunreasonable. "

Such was the judgment of the servants. That of society was perhaps lessfavorable. 

The Viscount de Commarin was not one of those who possess the ratherquestionable and at times unenviable accomplishment of pleasing everyone. He was wise enough to distrust those astonishing personages whoare always praising everybody. In looking about us, we often see men ofsuccess and reputation, who are simply dolts, without any merit excepttheir perfect insignificance. That stupid propriety which offendsno one, that uniform politeness which shocks no one's vanity, havepeculiarly the gift of pleasing and of succeeding. 

One cannot meet certain persons without saying, "I know that face; Ihave seen it somewhere, before;" because it has no individuality, butsimply resembles faces seen in a common crowd. It is precisely so withthe minds of certain other people. When they speak, you know exactlywhat they are going to say; you have heard the same thing so many timesalready from them, you know all their ideas by heart. These people arewelcomed everywhere: because they have nothing peculiar about them; andpeculiarity, especially in the upper classes, is always irritating andoffensive; they detest all innovations. 

Albert was peculiar; consequently much discussed, and very differentlyestimated. He was charged with sins of the most opposite character, withfaults so contradictory that they were their own defence. Some accusedhim, for instance, of entertaining ideas entirely too liberal for oneof his rank; and, at the same time, others complained of his excessivearrogance. He was charged with treating with insulting levity the mostserious questions, and was then blamed for his affectation of gravity. People knew him scarcely well enough to love him, while they werejealous of him and feared him. 

He wore a bored look in all fashionable reunions, which was consideredvery bad taste. Forced by his relations, by his father, to go intosociety a great deal, he was bored, and committed the unpardonable sinof letting it be seen. Perhaps he had been disgusted by the constantcourt made to him, by the rather coarse attentions which were neverspared the noble heir of one of the richest families in France. Havingall the necessary qualities for shining, he despised them. Dreadful sin!He did not abuse his advantages; and no one ever heard of his gettinginto a scrape. 

He had had once, it was said, a very decided liking for Madame Prosny, perhaps the naughtiest, certainly the most mischievous woman in Paris;but that was all. Mothers who had daughters to dispose of upheld him;but, for the last two years, they had turned against him, when his lovefor Mademoiselle d'Arlange became well known. 

At the club they rallied him on his prudence. He had had, like others, his run of follies; but he had soon got disgusted with what it is thefashion to call pleasure. The noble profession of bon vivant appearedto him very tame and tiresome. He did not enjoy passing his nights atcards; nor did he appreciate the society of those frail sisters, who inParis give notoriety to their lovers. He affirmed that a gentlemanwas not necessarily an object of ridicule because he would not exposehimself in the theatre with these women. Finally, none of his friendscould ever inoculate him with a passion for the turf. 

As doing nothing wearied him, he attempted, like the parvenu, to givesome meaning to life by work. He purposed, after a while, to take partin public affairs; and, as he had often been struck with the grossignorance of many men in power, he wished to avoid their example. Hebusied himself with politics; and this was the cause of all his quarrelswith his father. The one word of "liberal" was enough to throw the countinto convulsions; and he suspected his son of liberalism, ever sincereading an article by the viscount, published in the "Revue des DeuxMondes. "

His ideas, however, did not prevent his fully sustaining his rank. Hespent most nobly on the world the revenue which placed his father andhimself a little above it. His establishment, distinct from the count's, was arranged as that of a wealthy young gentleman's ought to be. Hisliveries left nothing to be desired; and his horses and equipages werecelebrated. Letters of invitation were eagerly sought for to the grandhunting parties, which he formed every year towards the end of Octoberat Commarin, --an admirable piece of property, covered with immensewoods. 

Albert's love for Claire--a deep, well-considered love--had contributednot a little to keep him from the habits and life of the pleasant andelegant idleness indulged in by his friends. A noble attachment isalways a great safeguard. In contending against it, M. De Commarin hadonly succeeded in increasing its intensity and insuring its continuance. This passion, so annoying to the count, was the source of the mostvivid, the most powerful emotions in the viscount. Ennui was banishedfrom his existence. 

All his thoughts took the same direction; all his actions had but oneaim. Could he look to the right or the left, when, at the end of hisjourney, he perceived the reward so ardently desired? He resolved thathe would never have any wife but Claire; his father absolutely refusedhis consent. The effort to change this refusal had long been thebusiness of his life. Finally, after three years of perseverance, hehad triumphed; the count had given his consent. And now, just as he wasreaping the happiness of success, Noel had arrived, implacable as fate, with his cursed letters. 

On leaving M. De Commarin, and while slowly mounting the stairs whichled to his apartments, Albert's thoughts reverted to Claire. What wasshe doing at that moment? Thinking of him no doubt. She knew that thecrisis would come that very evening, or the next day at the latest. Shewas probably praying. Albert was thoroughly exhausted; his head feltdizzy, and seemed ready to burst. He rang for his servant, and orderedsome tea. 

"You do wrong in not sending for the doctor, sir, " said Lubin, hisvalet. "I ought to disobey you, and send for him myself. "

"It would be useless, " replied Albert sadly; "he could do nothing forme. "

As the valet was leaving the room, he added, --"Say nothing about mybeing unwell to any one, Lubin; it is nothing at all. If I should feelworse, I will ring. "

At that moment, to see any one, to hear a voice, to have to reply, wasmore than he could bear. He longed to be left entirely to himself. 

After the painful emotions arising from his explanations with the count, he could not sleep. He opened one of the library windows, and lookedout. It was a beautiful night: and there was a lovely moon. Seen at thishour, by the mild, tremulous evening light, the gardens attached tothe mansion seemed twice their usual size. The moving tops of the greattrees stretched away like an immense plain, hiding the neighbouringhouses; the flower-beds, set off by the green shrubs, looked like greatblack patches, while particles of shell, tiny pieces of glass, andshining pebbles sparkled in the carefully kept walks. The horses stampedin the stable and the rattling of their halter chains against the barsof the manger could be distinctly heard. In the coach-house the men wereputting away for the night the carriage, always kept ready throughoutthe evening, in case the count should wish to go out. 

Albert was reminded by these surroundings, of the magnificence of hispast life. He sighed deeply. 

"Must I, then, lose all this?" he murmured. "I can scarcely, even formyself, abandon so much splendour without regret; and thinking ofClaire makes it hard indeed. Have I not dreamed of a life of exceptionalhappiness for her, a result almost impossible to realise withoutwealth?"

Midnight sounded from the neighbouring church of St. Clotilde, and asthe night was chilly, he closed the window, and sat down near the fire, which he stirred. In the hope of obtaining a respite from histhoughts, he took up the evening paper, in which was an account of theassassination at La Jonchere; but he found it impossible to read: thelines danced before his eyes. Then he thought of writing to Claire. Hesat down at his desk, and wrote, "My dearly loved Claire, " but he couldgo no further; his distracted brain could not furnish him with a singlesentence. 

At last, at break of day, he threw himself on to a sofa, and fell into aheavy sleep peopled with phantoms. 

At half-past nine in the morning, he was suddenly awakened, by the noiseof the door being hastily opened. A servant entered, with a scared lookon his face, and so out of breath from having come up the stairs four ata time, that he could scarcely speak. 

"Sir, " said he, "viscount, be quick, fly and hide, save yourself, theyare here, it is the--"

A commissary of police, wearing his sash, appeared at the door. Hewas followed by a number of men, among whom M. Tabaret could be seen, keeping as much out of sight as possible. 

The commissary approached Albert. 

"You are, " he asked, "Guy Louis Marie Albert de Rheteau de Commarin?"

"Yes, sir. "

The commissary placed his hand upon him, while pronouncing the usualformula: "M. De Commarin, in the name of the law I arrest you. "

"Me, sir? me?"

Albert, aroused suddenly from his painful dreams, seemed hardly tocomprehend what was taking place, seemed to ask himself, --"Am I reallyawake? Is not this some hideous nightmare?"

He threw a stupid, astonished look upon the commissary of police, hismen, and M. Tabaret, who had not taken his eyes off him. 

"Here is the warrant, " added the commissary, unfolding the paper. 

Mechanically Albert glanced over it. 

"Claudine assassinated!" he cried. 

Then very low, but distinct enough to be heard by the commissary, by oneof his officers, and by old Tabaret, he added, --"I am lost!"

While the commissary was making inquiries, which immediately followall arrests, the police officers spread through the apartments, andproceeded to a searching examination of them. They had received ordersto obey M. Tabaret, and the old fellow guided them in their search, made them ransack drawers and closets, and move the furniture to lookunderneath or behind. They seized a number of articles belonging to theviscount, --documents, manuscripts, and a very voluminous correspondence;but it was with especial delight that M. Tabaret put his hands oncertain articles, which were carefully described in their proper orderin the official report:

1. In the ante-room, hung with all sorts of weapons, a broken foil wasfound behind a sofa. This foil has a peculiar handle, and is unlikethose commonly sold. It is ornamented with the count's coronet, andthe initials A. C. It has been broken at about the middle; and the endcannot be found. When questioned, the viscount declared that he did notknow what had become of the missing end. 

2. In the dressing-room, a pair of black cloth trousers was discoveredstill damp, and bearing stains of mud or rather of mould. All one sideis smeared with greenish moss, like that which grows on walls. On thefront are numerous rents; and one near the knee is about four incheslong. These trousers had not been hung up with the other clothes; butappear to have been hidden between two large trunks full of clothing. 

3. In the pocket of the above mentioned trousers was found a pair oflavender kid gloves. The palm of the right hand glove bears a largegreenish stain, produced by grass or moss. The tips of the fingershave been worn as if by rubbing. Upon the backs of both gloves are somescratches, apparently made by finger-nails. 

4. There were also found in the dressing-room two pairs of boots, one ofwhich, though clean and polished, was still very damp; and an umbrellarecently wetted, the end of which was still covered with a lightcoloured mud. 

5. In a large room, called the library, were found a box of cigars ofthe trabucos brand, and on the mantel-shelf a number of cigar-holders inamber and meerschaum. 

The last article noted down, M. Tabaret approached the commissary ofpolice. 

"I have everything I could desire, " he whispered. 

"And I have finished, " replied the commissary. "Our prisoner does notappear to know exactly how to act. You heard what he said. He gave in atonce. I suppose YOU will call it lack of experience. "

"In the middle of the day, " replied the amateur detective in a whisper, "he would not have been quite so crestfallen. But early in the morning, suddenly awakened, you know--Always arrest a person early in themorning, when he's hungry, and only half awake. "

"I have questioned some of the servants. Their evidence is ratherpeculiar. "

"Very well; we shall see. But I must hurry off and find theinvestigating magistrate, who is impatiently expecting me. "

Albert was beginning to recover a little from the stupor into which hehad been plunged by the entrance of the commissary of police. 

"Sir, " he asked, "will you permit me to say a few words in your presenceto the Count de Commarin? I am the victim of some mistake, which will bevery soon discovered. "

"It's always a mistake, " muttered old Tabaret. 

"What you ask is impossible, " replied the commissary. "I have specialorders of the strictest sort. You must not henceforth communicate witha living soul. A cab is in waiting below. Have the goodness to accompanyme to it. "

In crossing the vestibule, Albert noticed a great stir among theservants; they all seemed to have lost their senses. M. Denis gave someorders in a sharp, imperative tone. Then he thought he heard that theCount de Commarin had been struck down with apoplexy. After that, heremembered nothing. They almost carried him to the cab which drove offas fast as the two little horses could go. M. Tabaret had just hastenedaway in a more rapid vehicle. 

CHAPTER X. 

The visitor who risks himself in the labyrinth of galleries andstairways in the Palais de Justice, and mounts to the third story inthe left wing, will find himself in a long, low-studded gallery, badlylighted by narrow windows, and pierced at short intervals by littledoors, like a hall at the ministry or at a lodging-house. 

It is a place difficult to view calmly, the imagination makes it appearso dark and dismal. 

It needs a Dante to compose an inscription to place above the doorswhich lead from it. From morning to night, the flagstones resound underthe heavy tread of the gendarmes, who accompany the prisoners. You canscarcely recall anything but sad figures there. There are the parents orfriends of the accused, the witnesses, the detectives. In this gallery, far from the sight of men, the judicial curriculum is gone through with. 

Each one of the little doors, which has its number painted over it inblack, opens into the office of a judge of inquiry. All the rooms arejust alike: if you see one, you have seen them all. They have nothingterrible nor sad in themselves; and yet it is difficult to enter one ofthem without a shudder. They are cold. The walls all seem moist withthe tears which have been shed there. You shudder, at thinking of theavowals wrested from the criminals, of the confessions broken with sobsmurmured there. 

In the office of the judge of inquiry, Justice clothes herself in noneof that apparel which she afterwards dons in order to strike fear intothe masses. She is still simple, and almost disposed to kindness. Shesays to the prisoner, --

"I have strong reasons for thinking you guilty; but prove to me yourinnocence, and I will release you. "

On entering one of these rooms, a stranger would imagine that he gotinto a cheap shop by mistake. The furniture is of the most primitivesort, as is the case in all places where important matters aretransacted. Of what consequence are surroundings to the judge huntingdown the author of a crime, or to the accused who is defending his life?

A desk full of documents for the judge, a table for the clerk, anarm-chair, and one or two chairs besides comprise the entire furnitureof the antechamber of the court of assize. The walls are hung with greenpaper; the curtains are green, and the floors are carpeted in the samecolor. Monsieur Daburon's office bore the number fifteen. 

M. Daburon had arrived at his office in the Palais de Justice at nineo'clock in the morning, and was waiting. His course resolved upon, he had not lost an instant, understanding as well as old Tabaret thenecessity for rapid action. He had already had an interview with thepublic prosecutor, and had arranged everything with the police. 

Besides issuing the warrant against Albert, he had summoned the Count deCommarin, Madame Gerdy, Noel, and some of Albert's servants, to appearbefore him with as little delay as possible. 

He thought it essential to question all these persons before examiningthe prisoner. Several detectives had started off to execute his orders, and he himself sat in his office, like a general commanding an army, who sends off his aide-de-camp to begin the battle, and who hopes thatvictory will crown his combinations. 

Often, at this same hour, he had sat in this office, under circumstancesalmost identical. A crime had been committed, and, believing he haddiscovered the criminal, he had given orders for his arrest. Was notthat his duty? But he had never before experienced the anxiety of mindwhich disturbed him now. Many a time had he issued warrants of arrest, without possessing even half the proofs which guided him in the presentcase. He kept repeating this to himself; and yet he could not quiet hisdreadful anxiety, which would not allow him a moment's rest. 

He wondered why his people were so long in making their appearance. Hewalked up and down the room, counting the minutes, drawing out his watchthree times within a quarter of an hour, to compare it with the clock. Every time he heard a step in the passage, almost deserted at thathour, he moved near the door, stopped and listened. At length someone knocked. It was his clerk, whom he had sent for. There was nothingparticular in this man; he was tall rather than big, and very slim. His gait was precise, his gestures were methodical, and his face was asimpassive as if it had been cut out of a piece of yellow wood. He wasthirty-four years of age and during fifteen years had acted as clerkto four investigating magistrates in succession. He could hear the mostastonishing things without moving a muscle. His name was Constant. 

He bowed to the magistrate, and excused himself for his tardiness. Hehad been busy with some book-keeping, which he did every morning; andhis wife had had to send after him. 

"You are still in good time, " said M. Daburon: "but we shall soon haveplenty of work: so you had better get your paper ready. "

Five minutes later, the usher introduced M. Noel Gerdy. He enteredwith an easy manner, like an advocate who was well acquainted with thePalais, and who knew its winding ways. He in no wise resembled, thismorning, old Tabaret's friend; still less could he have been recognizedas Madame Juliette's lover. He was entirely another being, or rather hehad resumed his every-day bearing. From his firm step, his placidface, one would never imagine that, after an evening of emotion andexcitement, after a secret visit to his mistress, he had passed thenight by the pillow of a dying woman, and that woman his mother, or atleast one who had filled his mother's place. 

What a contrast between him and the magistrate!

M. Daburon had not slept either: but one could easily see that in hisfeebleness, in his anxious look, in the dark, circles about his eyes. His shirt-front was all rumpled, and his cuffs were far from clean. Carried away by the course of events, the mind had forgotten the body. Noel's well-shaved chin, on the contrary, rested upon an irreproachablywhite cravat; his collar did not show a crease; his hair and hiswhiskers had been most carefully brushed. He bowed to M. Daburon, andheld out the summons he had received. 

"You summoned me, sir, " he said; "and I am here awaiting your orders. "

The investigating magistrate had met the young advocate several times inthe lobbies of the Palais; and he knew him well by sight. He rememberedhaving heard M. Gerdy spoken of as a man of talent and promise, whose reputation was fast rising. He therefore welcomed him as afellow-workman, and invited him to be seated. 

The preliminaries common in the examinations of all witnesses ended;the name, surname, age, place of business, and so on having been writtendown, the magistrate, who had followed his clerk with his eyes while hewas writing, turned towards Noel. 

"I presume you know, M. Gerdy, " he began, "the matters in connectionwith which you are troubled with appearing before me?"

"Yes, sir, the murder of that poor old woman at La Jonchere. "

"Precisely, " replied M. Daburon. Then, calling to mind his promise toold Tabaret, he added, "If justice has summoned you so promptly, itis because we have found your name often mentioned in Widow Lerouge'spapers. "

"I am not surprised at that, " replied the advocate: "we were greatlyinterested in that poor woman, who was my nurse; and I know that MadameGerdy wrote to her frequently. "

"Very well; then you can give me some information about her. "

"I fear, sir, that it will be very incomplete. I know very little aboutthis poor old Madame Lerouge. I was taken from her at a very earlyage; and, since I have been a man, I have thought but little about her, except to send her occasionally a little aid. "

"You never went to visit her?"

"Excuse me. I have gone there to see her many times, but I remained onlya few minutes. Madame Gerdy, who has often seen her, and to whom shetalked of all her affairs, could have enlightened you much better thanI. "

"But, " said the magistrate, "I expect shortly to see Madame Gerdy here;she, too, must have received a summons. "

"I know it, sir, but it is impossible for her to appear. She is ill inbed. "

"Seriously?"

"So seriously that you will be obliged, I think, to give up all hope ofher testimony. She is attacked with a disease which, in the words of myfriend, Dr. Herve, never forgives. It is something like inflammation ofthe brain, if I am not mistaken. It may be that her life will be saved, but she will never recover her reason. If she does not die, she will beinsane. "

M. Daburon appeared greatly vexed. "This is very annoying, " he muttered. "And you think, my dear sir, that it will be impossible to obtain anyinformation from her?"

"It is useless even to hope for it. She has completely lost her reason. She was, when I left her, in such a state of utter prostration that Ifear she can not live through the day. "

"And when was she attacked by this illness?"

"Yesterday evening. "

"Suddenly?"

"Yes, sir; at least, apparently so, though I myself think she has beenunwell for the last three weeks at least. Yesterday, however, on risingfrom dinner, after having eaten but little, she took up a newspaper;and, by a most unfortunate hazard, her eyes fell exactly upon the lineswhich gave an account of this crime. She at once uttered a loud cry, fell back in her chair, and thence slipped to the floor, murmuring, 'Oh, the unhappy man, the unhappy man!'"

"The unhappy woman, you mean. "

"No, sir. She uttered the words I have just repeated. Evidently theexclamation did not refer to my poor nurse. "

Upon this reply, so important and yet made in the most unconscious tone, M. Daburon raised his eyes to the witness. The advocate lowered hishead. 

"And then?" asked the magistrate, after a moment's silence, during whichhe had taken a few notes. 

"Those words, sir, were the last spoken by Madame Gerdy. Assisted by ourservant, I carried her to her bed. The doctor was sent for; and, sincethen, she has not recovered consciousness. The doctor--"

"It is well, " interrupted M. Daburon. "Let us leave that for thepresent. Do you know, sir, whether Widow Lerouge had any enemies?"

"None that I know of, sir. "

"She had no enemies? Well, now tell me, does there exist to yourknowledge any one having the least interest in the death of this poorwoman?"

As he asked this question the investigating magistrate kept his eyesfixed on Noel's, not wishing him to turn or lower his head. 

The advocate started, and seemed deeply moved. He was disconcerted; hehesitated, as if a struggle was going on within him. 

Finally, in a voice which was by no means firm, he replied, "No, noone. "

"Is that really true?" asked the magistrate, looking at him moresearchingly. "You know no one whom this crime benefits, or whom it mightbenefit, --absolutely no one?"

"I know only one thing, sir, " replied Noel; "and that is, that, as faras I am concerned, it has caused me an irreparable injury. "

"At last, " thought M. Daburon, "we have got at the letters; and I havenot betrayed poor old Tabaret. It would be too bad to cause the leasttrouble to that zealous and invaluable man. " He then added aloud: "Aninjury to you, my dear sir? You will, I hope, explain yourself. "

Noel's embarrassment, of which he had already given some signs, appearedmuch more marked. 

"I am aware, sir, " he replied, "that I owe justice not merely the truth, but the whole truth; but there are circumstances involved so delicatethat the conscience of a man of honour sees danger in them. Besides, itis very hard to be obliged to unveil such sad secrets, the revelation ofwhich may sometimes--"

M. Daburon interrupted with a gesture. Noel's sad tone impressed him. Knowing, beforehand, what he was about to hear, he felt for the youngadvocate. He turned to his clerk. 

"Constant!" said he in a peculiar tone. This was evidently a signal; forthe tall clerk rose methodically, put his pen behind his ear, and wentout in his measured tread. 

Noel appeared sensible of this kindness. His face expressed thestrongest gratitude; his look returned thanks. 

"I am very much obliged to you, sir, " he said with suppressed warmth, "for your considerateness. What I have to say is very painful; but itwill be scarcely an effort to speak before you now. "

"Fear nothing, " replied the magistrate; "I will only retain of yourdeposition, my dear sir, what seems to me absolutely indispensable. "

"I feel scarcely master of myself, sir, " began Noel; "so pray pardonmy emotion. If any words escape me that seem charged with bitterness, excuse them; they will be involuntary. Up to the past few days, I alwaysbelieved that I was the offspring of illicit love. My history is short. I have been honourably ambitious; I have worked hard. He who has noname must make one, you know. I have passed a quiet life, retired andaustere, as people must, who, starting at the foot of the ladder, wishto reach the top. I worshipped her whom I believed to be my mother; andI felt convinced that she loved me in return. The stain of my birth hadsome humiliations attached to it; but I despised them. Comparing mylot with that of so many others, I felt that I had more than commonadvantages. One day, Providence placed in my hands all the letters whichmy father, the Count de Commarin, had written to Madame Gerdy duringthe time she was his mistress. On reading these letters, I was convincedthat I was not what I had hitherto believed myself to be, --that MadameGerdy was not my mother!"

And, without giving M. Daburon time to reply, he laid before him thefacts which, twelve hours before, he had related to M. Tabaret. Itwas the same story, with the same circumstances, the same abundance ofprecise and conclusive details; but the tone in which it was told wasentirely changed. When speaking to the old detective, the youngadvocate had been emphatic and violent; but now, in the presence of theinvestigating magistrate, he restrained his vehement emotions. 

One might imagine that he adapted his style to his auditors, wishing toproduce the same effect on both, and using the method which would bestaccomplish his purpose. 

To an ordinary mind like M. Tabaret's he used the exaggeration of anger;but to a man of superior intelligence like M. Daburon, he employed theexaggeration of restraint. With the detective he had rebelled againsthis unjust lot; but with the magistrate he seemed to bow, full ofresignation, before a blind fatality. 

With genuine eloquence and rare facility of expression, he related hisfeelings on the day following the discovery, --his grief, his perplexity, his doubts. 

To support this moral certainty, some positive testimony was needed. Could he hope for this from the count or from Madame Gerdy, bothinterested in concealing the truth? No. But he had counted upon that ofhis nurse, --the poor old woman who loved him, and who, near the close ofher life, would be glad to free her conscience from this heavy load. Shewas dead now; and the letters became mere waste paper in his hands. 

Then he passed on to his explanation with Madame Gerdy, and he gave themagistrate even fuller details than he had given his old neighbour. 

She had, he said, at first utterly denied the substitution, but heinsinuated that, plied with questions, and overcome by the evidence, shehad, in a moment of despair, confessed all, declaring, soon after, that she would retract and deny this confession, being resolved at allhazards that her son should preserve his position. 

From this scene, in the advocate's judgment, might be dated the firstattacks of the illness, to which she was now succumbing. 

Noel then described his interview with the Viscount de Commarin. A fewinaccuracies occurred in his narrative, but so slight that it would havebeen difficult to charge him with them. Besides, there was nothing inthem at all unfavourable to Albert. 

He insisted, on the contrary, upon the excellent impression which thatyoung man had made on him. Albert had received the revelation with acertain distrust, it is true, but with a noble firmness at the sametime, and, like a brave heart, was ready to bow before the justificationof right. 

In fact, he drew an almost enthusiastic portrait of this rival, whohad not been spoiled by prosperity, who had left him without a look ofhatred, towards whom he felt himself drawn, and who after all was hisbrother. 

M. Daburon listened to Noel with the most unremitting attention, withoutallowing a word, a movement, or a frown, to betray his feelings. 

"How, sir, " observed the magistrate when the young man ceased speaking, "could you have told me that, in your opinion, no one was interested inWidow Lerouge's death?"

The advocate made no reply. 

"It seems to me, " continued M. Daburon, "that the Viscount de Commarin'sposition has thereby become almost impregnable. Madame Gerdy is insane;the count will deny all; your letters prove nothing. It is evident thatthe crime is of the greatest service to this young man, and that it wascommitted at a singularly favourable moment. "

"Oh sir!" cried Noel, protesting with all his energy, "this insinuationis dreadful. "

The magistrate watched the advocate's face narrowly. Was he speakingfrankly, or was he but playing at being generous? Could it really bethat he had never had any suspicion of this?

Noel did not flinch under the gaze, but almost immediatelycontinued, --"What reason could this young man have for trembling, orfearing for his position? I did not utter one threatening word, evenindirectly. I did not present myself like a man who, furious at beingrobbed, demands that everything which had been taken from him should berestored on the spot. I merely presented the facts to Albert, saying, 'Here is the truth? what do you think we ought to do? Be the judge. '"

"And he asked you for time?"

"Yes. I had suggested his accompanying me to see Widow Lerouge, whosetestimony might dispel all doubts; he did not seem to understand me. Buthe was well acquainted with her, having visited her with the count, whosupplied her, I have since learned, liberally with money. "

"Did not this generosity appear to you very singular?"

"No. "

"Can you explain why the viscount did not appear disposed to accompanyyou?"

"Certainly. He had just said that he wished, before all, to have anexplanation with his father, who was then absent, but who would returnin a few days. "

The truth, as all the world knows, and delights in proclaiming, has anaccent which no one can mistake. M. Daburon had not the slightest doubtof his witness's good faith. Noel continued with the ingenuous candourof an honest heart which suspicion has never touched with itsbat's wing: "The idea of treating at once with my father pleased meexceedingly. I thought it so much better to wash all one's dirty linenat home, I had never desired anything but an amicable arrangement. Withmy hands full of proofs, I should still recoil from a public trial. "

"Would you not have brought an action?"

"Never, sir, not at any price. Could I, " he added proudly, "to regain myrightful name, begin by dishonouring it?"

This time M. Daburon could not conceal his sincere admiration. 

"A most praiseworthy feeling, sir, " he said. 

"I think, " replied Noel, "that it is but natural. If things came to theworst, I had determined to leave my title with Albert. No doubt the nameof Commarin is an illustrious one; but I hope that, in ten yearstime, mine will be more known. I would, however, have demanded alarge pecuniary compensation. I possess nothing: and I have often beenhampered in my career by the want of money. That which Madame Gerdy owedto the generosity of my father was almost entirely spent. My educationhad absorbed a great part of it; and it was long before my professioncovered my expenses. Madame Gerdy and I live very quietly; but, unfortunately, though simple in her tastes, she lacks economy andsystem; and no one can imagine how great our expenses have been. ButI have nothing to reproach myself with, whatever happens. At thecommencement, I could not keep my anger well under control; but now Ibear no ill-will. On learning of the death of my nurse, though, I castall my hopes into the sea. "

"You were wrong, my dear sir, " said the magistrate. "I advise you tostill hope. Perhaps, before the end of the day, you will enter intopossession of your rights. Justice, I will not conceal from you, thinksshe has found Widow Lerouge's assassin. At this moment, Viscount Albertis doubtless under arrest. "

"What!" exclaimed Noel, with a sort of stupor: "I was not, then, mistaken, sir, in the meaning of your words. I dreaded to understandthem. "

"You have not mistaken me, sir, " said M. Daburon. "I thank you foryour sincere straightforward explanations; they have eased my taskmaterially. To-morrow, --for today my time is all taken up, --we willwrite down your deposition together if you like. I have nothing more tosay, I believe, except to ask you for the letters in your possession, and which are indispensable to me. "

"Within an hour, sir, you shall have them, " replied Noel. Andhe retired, after having warmly expressed his gratitude to theinvestigating magistrate. 

Had he been less preoccupied, the advocate might have perceived at theend of the gallery old Tabaret, who had just arrived, eager and happy, like a bearer of great news as he was. 

His cab had scarcely stopped at the gate of the Palais de Justicebefore he was in the courtyard and rushing towards the porch. To see himjumping more nimbly than a fifth-rate lawyer's clerk up the steep flightof stairs leading to the magistrate's office, one would never havebelieved that he was many years on the shady side of fifty. Even hehimself had forgotten it. He did not remember how he had passed thenight; he had never before felt so fresh, so agile, in such spirits; heseemed to have springs of steel in his limbs. 

He burst like a cannon-shot into the magistrate's office, knocking upagainst the methodical clerk in the rudest of ways, without even askinghis pardon. 

"Caught!" he cried, while yet on the threshold, "caught, nipped, squeezed, strung, trapped, locked! We have got the man. "

Old Tabaret, more Tirauclair than ever, gesticulated with such comicalvehemence and such remarkable contortions that even the tall clerksmiled, for which, however, he took himself severely to task on going tobed that night. 

But M. Daburon, still under the influence of Noel's deposition, wasshocked at this apparently unseasonable joy; although he felt the saferfor it. He looked severely at old Tabaret, saying, --"Hush, sir; bedecent, compose yourself. "

At any other time, the old fellow would have felt ashamed at havingdeserved such a reprimand. Now, it made no impression on him. 

"I can't be quiet, " he replied. "Never has anything like this been knownbefore. All that I mentioned has been found. Broken foil, lavender kidgloves slightly frayed, cigar-holder; nothing is wanting. You shall havethem, sir, and many other things besides. I have a little system of myown, which appears by no means a bad one. Just see the triumph of mymethod of induction, which Gevrol ridiculed so much. I'd give a hundredfrancs if he were only here now. But no; my Gevrol wants to nab theman with the earrings; he is just capable of doing that. He is a finefellow, this Gevrol, a famous fellow! How much do you give him a yearfor his skill?"

"Come, my dear M. Tabaret, " said the magistrate, as soon as he could getin a word, "be serious, if you can, and let us proceed in order. "

"Pooh!" replied the old fellow, "what good will that do? It is a clearcase now. When they bring the fellow before you, merely show him theparticles of kid taken from behind the nails of the victim, side by sidewith his torn gloves, and you will overwhelm him. I wager that he willconfess all, hic et nunc, --yes, I wager my head against his; althoughthat's pretty risky; for he may get off yet! Those milk-sops on the juryare just capable of according him extenuating circumstances. Ah! allthose delays are fatal to justice! Why if all the world were of my mind, the punishment of rascals wouldn't take such a time. They should behanged as soon as caught. That's my opinion. "

M. Daburon resigned himself to this shower of words. As soon as the oldfellow's excitement had cooled down a little, he began questioning him. He even then had great trouble in obtaining the exact details of thearrest; details which later on were confirmed by the commissary'sofficial report. 

The magistrate appeared very surprised when he heard that Albert hadexclaimed, "I am lost!" at sight of the warrant. "That, " muttered he, "is a terrible proof against him. "

"I should think so, " replied old Tabaret. "In his ordinary state, hewould never have allowed himself to utter such words; for they in factdestroy him. We arrested him when he was scarcely awake. He hadn't beenin bed, but was lying in a troubled sleep, upon a sofa, when we arrived. I took good care to let a frightened servant ran in advance, and tofollow closely upon him myself, to see the effect. All my arrangementswere made. But, never fear, he will find a plausible excuse for thisfatal exclamation. By the way, I should add that we found on the floor, near by, a crumpled copy of last evening's 'Gazette de France, ' whichcontained an account of the assassination. This is the first time that apiece of news in the papers ever helped to nab a criminal. "

"Yes, " murmured the magistrate, deep in thought, "yes, you are avaluable man, M. Tabaret. " Then, louder, he added, "I am thoroughlyconvinced; for M. Gerdy has just this moment left me. "

"You have seen Noel!" cried the old fellow. On the instant all his proudself-satisfaction disappeared. A cloud of anxiety spread itself likea veil over his beaming countenance. "Noel here, " he repeated. Then hetimidly added: "And does he know?"

"Nothing, " replied M. Daburon. "I had no need of mentioning your name. Besides, had I not promised absolute secrecy?"

"Ah, that's all right, " cried old Tabaret. "And what do you think sir, of Noel?"

"His is, I am sure, a noble, worthy heart, " said the magistrate; "anature both strong and tender. The sentiments which I heard him expresshere, and the genuineness of which it is impossible to doubt, manifestedan elevation of soul, unhappily, very rare. Seldom in my life have I metwith a man who so won my sympathy from the first. I can well understandone's pride in being among his friends. "

"Just what I said; he has precisely the same effect upon every one. Ilove him as though he were my own child; and, whatever happens, hewill inherit almost the whole of my fortune: yes, I intend leaving himeverything. My will is made, and is in the hands of M. Baron, my notary. There is a small legacy, too, for Madame Gerdy; but I am going to havethe paragraph that relates to that taken out at once. "

"Madame Gerdy, M. Tabaret, will soon be beyond all need of worldlygoods. "

"How, what do you mean? Has the count--"

"She is dying, and is not likely to live through the day; M. Gerdy toldme so himself. "

"Ah! heavens!" cried the old fellow, "what is that you say? Dying? Noelwill be distracted; but no: since she is not his mother, how can itaffect him? Dying! I thought so much of her before this discovery. Poorhumanity! It seems as though all the accomplices are passing away atthe same time; for I forgot to tell you, that, just as I was leavingthe Commarin mansion, I heard a servant tell another that the count hadfallen down in a fit on learning the news of his son's arrest. "

"That will be a great misfortune for M. Gerdy. "

"For Noel?"

"I had counted upon M. De Commarin's testimony to recover for him allthat he so well deserves. The count dead, Widow Lerouge dead, MadameGerdy dying, or in any event insane, who then can tell us whether thesubstitution alluded to in the letters was ever carried into execution?"

"True, " murmured old Tabaret; "it is true! And I did not think of it. What fatality! For I am not deceived; I am certain that--"

He did not finish. The door of M. Daburon's office opened, and the Countde Commarin himself appeared on the threshold, as rigid as one of thoseold portraits which look as though they were frozen in their gildedframes. The nobleman motioned with his hand, and the two servants whohad helped him up as far as the door, retired. 

CHAPTER XI. 

It was indeed the Count de Commarin, though more like his shadow. Hishead, usually carried so high, leant upon his chest; his figure wasbent; his eyes had no longer their accustomed fire; his hands trembled. The extreme disorder of his dress rendered more striking still thechange which had come over him. In one night, he had grown twenty yearsolder. This man, yesterday so proud of never having bent to a storm, was now completely shattered. The pride of his name had constituted hisentire strength; that humbled, he seemed utterly overwhelmed. Everythingin him gave way at once; all his supports failed him at the same time. His cold, lifeless gaze revealed the dull stupor of his thoughts. He presented such a picture of utter despair that the investigatingmagistrate slightly shuddered at the sight. M. Tabaret lookedfrightened, and even the clerk seemed moved. 

"Constant, " said M. Daburon quickly, "go with M. Tabaret, and see ifthere's any news at the Prefecture. "

The clerk left the room, followed by the detective, who went awayregretfully. The count had not noticed their presence; he paid noattention to their departure. 

M. Daburon offered him a seat, which he accepted with a sad smile. "Ifeel so weak, " said he, "you must excuse my sitting. "

Apologies to an investigating magistrate! What an advance incivilisation, when the nobles consider themselves subject to the law, and bow to its decrees! Every one respects justice now-a-days, and fearsit a little, even when only represented by a simple and conscientiousinvestigating magistrate. 

"You are, perhaps, too unwell, count, " said the magistrate, "to give methe explanations I had hoped for. "

"I am better, thank you, " replied M. De Commarin, "I am as well as couldbe expected after the shock I have received. When I heard of the crimeof which my son is accused, and of his arrest, I was thunderstruck. I believed myself a strong man; but I rolled in the dust. My servantsthought me dead. Why was it not so? The strength of my constitution, my physician tells me, was all that saved me; but I believe that heavenwishes me to live, that I may drink to the bitter dregs my cup ofhumiliation. "

He stopped suddenly, nearly choked by a flow of blood that rose to hismouth. 

The investigating magistrate remained standing near the table, almostafraid to move. 

After a few moments' rest, the count found relief, andcontinued, --"Unhappy man that I am! ought I not to have expected it?Everything comes to light sooner or later. I am punished for my greatsin, --pride. I thought myself out of reach of the thunderbolt; and Ihave been the means of drawing down the storm upon my house. Albert anassassin! A Viscount de Commarin arraigned before a court of assize! Ah, sir, punish me, also; for I alone and long ago, laid the foundation ofthis crime. Fifteen centuries of spotless fame end with me in infamy. "

M. Daburon considered Count de Commarin's conduct unpardonable, and haddetermined not to spare him. 

He had expected to meet a proud, haughty noble, almost unmanageable; andhe had resolved to humble his arrogance. 

Perhaps the harsh treatment he had received of old from the Marchionessd'Arlange had given him, unconsciously, a slight grudge against thearistocracy. 

He had vaguely thought of certain rather severe remarks, which were toovercome the old nobleman, and bring him to a sense of his position. 

But when he found himself in the presence of such a sincere repentance, his indignation changed to profound pity; and he began to wonder how hecould assuage the count's grief. 

"Write, sir, " continued M. De Commarin with an exaltation of which hedid not seem capable ten minutes before, --"write my avowal and suppressnothing. I have no longer need of mercy nor of tenderness. What haveI to fear now? Is not my disgrace public? Must not I, Count Rheteaude Commarin appear before the tribunal, to proclaim the infamy of ourhouse? Ah! all is lost now, even honour itself. Write, sir; for I wishthat all the world shall know that I am the most deserving of blame. Butthey shall also know that the punishment has been already terrible, andthat there was no need for this last and awful trial. "

The count stopped for a moment, to concentrate and arrange his memory. 

He soon continued, in a firmer voice, and adapting his tone to what hehad to say, "When I was of Albert's age, sir, my parents made me marry, in spite of my protestations, the noblest and purest of young girls. Imade her the most unhappy of women. I could not love her. I cherished amost passionate love for a mistress, who had trusted herself to me, andwhom I had loved for a long time. I found her rich in beauty, purity andmind. Her name was Valerie. My heart is, so to say, dead and cold in me, sir, but, ah! when I pronounce that name, it still has a great effectupon me. In spite of my marriage, I could not induce myself to part fromher, though she wished me to. The idea of sharing my love with anotherwas revolting to her. No doubt she loved me then. Our relationscontinued. My wife and my mistress became mothers at nearly the sametime. This coincidence suggested to me the fatal idea of sacrificingmy legitimate son to his less fortunate brother. I communicated thisproject to Valerie. To my great surprise, she refused it with horror. Already the maternal instinct was aroused within her; she would not beseparated from her child. I have preserved, as a monument of my folly, the letters which she wrote to me at that time. I re-read them only lastnight. Ah! why did I not listen to both her arguments and her prayers?It was because I was mad. She had a sort of presentiment of the evilwhich overwhelms me to-day. But I came to Paris;--I had absolutecontrol over her. I threatened to leave her, never to see her again. Sheyielded; and my valet and Claudine Lerouge were charged with this wickedsubstitution. It is, therefore, the son of my mistress who bears thetitle of Viscount de Commarin, and who was arrested but a short timeago. "

M. Daburon had not hoped for a declaration so clear, and above allso prompt. He secretly rejoiced for the young advocate whose noblesentiments had quite captivated him. 

"So, count, " said he, "you acknowledge that M. Noel Gerdy is the issueof your legitimate marriage, and that he alone is entitled to bear yourname?"

"Yes, sir. Alas! I was then more delighted at the success of my projectthan I should have been over the most brilliant victory. I was sointoxicated with the joy of having my Valerie's child there, near me, that I forgot everything else. I had transferred to him a part of mylove for his mother; or, rather, I loved him still more, if that bepossible. The thought that he would bear my name, that he would inheritall my wealth, to the detriment of the other, transported me withdelight. The other, I hated; I could not even look upon him. I do notrecollect having kissed him twice. On this point Valerie, who wasvery good, reproached me severely. One thing alone interfered with myhappiness. The Countess de Commarin adored him whom she believed to beher son, and always wished to have him on her knees. I cannot expresswhat I suffered at seeing my wife cover with kisses and caresses thechild of my mistress. But I kept him from her as much as I could; andshe, poor woman! not understanding what was passing within me, imaginedthat I was doing everything to prevent her son loving her. She died, sir, with this idea, which poisoned her last days. She died of sorrow;but saint-like, without a complaint, without a murmur, pardon upon herlips and in her heart. "

Though greatly pressed for time, M. Daburon did not venture to interruptthe count, to ask him briefly for the immediate facts of the case. Heknew that fever alone gave him this unnatural energy, to which at anymoment might succeed the most complete prostration. He feared, if hestopped him for an instant, that he would not have strength enough toresume. 

"I did not shed a single tear, " continued the count. "What had she beenin my life? A cause of sorrow and remorse. But God's justice, in advanceof man's was about to take a terrible revenge. One day, I was warnedthat Valerie was deceiving me, and had done so for a long time. I couldnot believe it at first; it seemed to me impossible, absurd. I wouldhave sooner doubted myself than her. I had taken her from a garret, where she was working sixteen hours a day to earn a few pence; she owedall to me. I had made her so much a part of myself that I could notcredit her being false. I could not induce myself to feel jealous. However, I inquired into the matter; I had her watched; I even acted thespy upon her myself. I had been told the truth. This unhappy woman hadanother lover, and had had him for more than ten years. He was a cavalryofficer. In coming to her house he took every precaution. He usuallyleft about midnight; but sometimes he came to pass the night, and inthat case went away in the early morning. Being stationed near Paris, hefrequently obtained leave of absence and came to visit her; and he wouldremain shut up in her apartments until his time expired. One evening, my spies brought me word that he was there. I hastened to the house. Mypresence did not embarrass her. She received me as usual, throwing herarms about my neck. I thought that my spies had deceived me; and I wasgoing to tell her all, when I saw upon the piano a buckskin glove, suchas are worn by soldiers. Not wishing a scene, and not knowing to whatexcess my anger might carry me, I rushed out of the place without sayinga word. I have never seen her since. She wrote to me. I did not open herletters. She attempted to force her way into my presence, but in vain;my servants had orders that they dared not ignore. "

Could this be the Count de Commarin, celebrated for his haughtycoldness, for his reserve so full of disdain, who spoke thus, who openedhis whole life without restrictions, without reserve? And to whom? To astranger. 

But he was in one of those desperate states, allied to madness, when allreflection leaves us, when we must find some outlet for a too powerfulemotion. What mattered to him this secret, so courageously borne forso many years? He disburdened himself of it, like the poor man, who, weighed down by a too heavy burden, casts it to the earth withoutcaring where it falls, nor how much it may tempt the cupidity of thepassers-by. 

"Nothing, " continued he, "no, nothing, can approach to what I thenendured. My very heartstrings were bound up in that woman. She was likea part of myself. In separating from her, it seemed to me that I wastearing away a part of my own flesh. I cannot describe the furiouspassions her memory stirred within me. I scorned her and longed for herwith equal vehemence. I hated her, and I loved her. And, to this day, her detestable image has been ever present to my imagination. Nothingcan make me forget her. I have never consoled myself for her loss. Andthat is not all, terrible doubts about Albert occurred to me. Was Ireally his father? Can you understand what my punishment was, when Ithought to myself, 'I have perhaps sacrificed my own son to the childof an utter stranger. ' This thought made me hate the bastard whocalled himself Commarin. To my great affection for him succeeded anunconquerable aversion. How often, in those days I struggled againstan insane desire to kill him! Since then, I have learned to subdue myaversion; but I have never completely mastered it. Albert, sir, has beenthe best of sons. Nevertheless, there has always been an icy barrierbetween us, which he was unable to explain. I have often been on thepoint of appealing to the tribunals, of avowing all, of reclaiming mylegitimate heir; but regard for my rank has prevented me. I recoiledbefore the scandal. I feared the ridicule or disgrace that would attachto my name; and yet I have not been able to save it from infamy. "

The old nobleman remained silent, after pronouncing these words. In afit of despair, he buried his face in his hands, and two great tearsrolled silently down his wrinkled cheeks. 

In the meantime, the door of the room opened slightly, and the tallclerk's head appeared. 

M. Daburon signed to him to enter, and then addressing M. De Commarin, he said in a voice rendered more gentle by compassion: "Sir, in the eyesof heaven, as in the eyes of society, you have committed a great sin;and the results, as you see, are most disastrous. It is your duty torepair the evil consequences of your sin as much as lies in your power. "

"Such is my intention, sir, and, may I say so? my dearest wish. "

"You doubtless understand me, " continued M. Daburon. 

"Yes, sir, " replied the old man, "yes, I understand you. "

"It will be a consolation to you, " added the magistrate, "to learn thatM. Noel Gerdy is worthy in all respects of the high position that youare about to restore to him. He is a man of great talent, betterand worthier than any one I know. You will have a son worthy of hisancestors. And finally, no one of your family has disgraced it, sir, forViscount Albert is not a Commarin. "

"No, " rejoined the count quickly, "a Commarin would be dead at thishour; and blood washes all away. "

The old nobleman's remark set the investigating magistrate thinkingprofoundly. 

"Are you then sure, " said he, "of the viscount's guilt?"

M. De Commarin gave the magistrate a look of intense surprise. 

"I only arrived in Paris yesterday evening, " he replied; "and I amentirely ignorant of all that has occurred. I only know that justicewould not proceed without good cause against a man of Albert's rank. Ifyou have arrested him, it is quite evident that you have something morethan suspicion against him, --that you possess positive proofs. "

M. Daburon bit his lips, and, for a moment, could not conceal a feelingof displeasure. He had neglected his usual prudence, had moved tooquickly. He had believed the count's mind entirely upset; and now he hadaroused his distrust. All the skill in the world could not repair suchan unfortunate mistake. A witness on his guard is no longer a witness tobe depended upon; he trembles for fear of compromising himself, measuresthe weight of the questions, and hesitates as to his answers. 

On the other hand, justice, in the form of a magistrate, is disposed todoubt everything, to imagine everything, and to suspect everybody. How far was the count a stranger to the crime at La Jonchere? Althoughdoubting Albert's paternity, he would certainly have made great effortsto save him. His story showed that he thought his honour in peril justas much as his son. Was he not the man to suppress, by every means, aninconvenient witness? Thus reasoned M. Daburon. And yet he could notclearly see how the Count de Commarin's interests were concerned in thematter. This uncertainty made him very uneasy. 

"Sir, " he asked, more sternly, "when were you informed of the discoveryof your secret?"

"Last evening, by Albert himself. He spoke to me of this sad story, in away which I now seek in vain to explain, unless--"

The count stopped short, as if his reason had been struck by theimprobability of the supposition which he had formed. 

"Unless!--" inquired the magistrate eagerly. 

"Sir, " said the count, without replying directly, "Albert is a hero, ifhe is not guilty. "

"Ah!" said the magistrate quickly, "have you, then, reason to think himinnocent?"

M. Daburon's spite was so plainly visible in the tone of his words thatM. De Commarin could and ought to have seen the semblance of an insult. He started, evidently offended, and rising, said: "I am now no more awitness for, than I was a moment ago a witness against. I desire only torender what assistance I can to justice, in accordance with my duty. "

"Confound it, " said M. Daburon to himself, "here I have offended himnow! Is this the way to do things, making mistake after mistake?"

"The facts are these, " resumed the count. "Yesterday, after havingspoken to me of these cursed letters, Albert began to set a trap todiscover the truth, --for he still had doubts, Noel Gerdy not havingobtained the complete correspondence. An animated discussion arosebetween us. He declared his resolution to give way to Noel. I, on theother hand, was resolved to compromise the matter, cost what it might. Albert dared to oppose me. All my efforts to convert him to my viewswere useless. Vainly I tried to touch those chords in his breast which Isupposed the most sensitive. He firmly repeated his intention to retirein spite of me, declaring himself satisfied, if I would consent to allowhim a modest competence. I again attempted to shake him, by showing himthat his marriage, so ardently looked forward to for two years, would bebroken off by this blow. He replied that he felt sure of the constancyof his betrothed, Mademoiselle d'Arlange. "

This name fell like a thunderbolt upon the ears of the investigatingmagistrate. He jumped in his chair. Feeling that his face was turningcrimson, he took up a large bundle of papers from his table, and, to hide his emotion, he raised them to his face, as though trying todecipher an illegible word. He began to understand the difficult dutywith which he was charged. He knew that he was troubled like a child, having neither his usual calmness nor foresight. He felt that hemight commit the most serious blunders. Why had he undertaken thisinvestigation? Could he preserve himself quite free from bias? Did hethink his will would be perfectly impartial? Gladly would he put offto another time the further examination of the count; but could he?His conscience told him that this would be another blunder. He renewed, then, the painful examination. 

"Sir, " said he, "the sentiments expressed by the viscount are very fine, without doubt; but did he not mention Widow Lerouge?"

"Yes, " replied the count, who appeared suddenly to brighten, as by theremembrance of some unnoticed circumstances, --"yes, certainly. "

"He must have shown you that this woman's testimony rendered a strugglewith M. Gerdy impossible. "

"Precisely; sir; and, aside from the question of duty, it was upon thatthat he based his refusal to follow my wishes. "

"It will be necessary, count, for you to repeat to me very exactly allthat passed between the viscount and yourself. Appeal, then, I beseechyou, to your memory, and try to repeat his own words as nearly aspossible. "

M. De Commarin could do so without much difficulty. For some littletime, a salutary reaction had taken place within him. His blood, excitedby the persistence of the examination, moved in its accustomed course. His brain cleared itself. 

The scene of the previous evening was admirably presented to his memory, even to the most insignificant details. The sound of Albert's voice wasstill in his ears; he saw again his expressive gestures. As his storyadvanced, alive with clearness and precision, M. Daburon's convictionbecame more confirmed. 

The magistrate turned against Albert precisely that which the day beforehad won the count's admiration. 

"What wonderful acting!" thought he. "Tabaret is decidedly possessedof second sight. To his inconceivable boldness, this young man joins aninfernal cleverness. The genius of crime itself inspires him. It is amiracle that we are able to unmask him. How well everything was foreseenand arranged? How marvellously this scene with his father was broughtabout, in order to procure doubt in case of discovery? There is nota sentence which lacks a purpose, which does not tend to ward offsuspicion. What refinement of execution! What excessive care fordetails! Nothing is wanting, not even the great devotion of hisbetrothed. Has he really informed Claire? Probably I might find out;but I should have to see her again, to speak to her. Poor child! to lovesuch a man! But his plan is now fully exposed. His discussion with thecount was his plank of safety. It committed him to nothing, and gainedtime. He would of course raise objections, since they would only end bybinding him the more firmly in his father's heart. He could thus make amerit of his compliance, and would ask a reward for his weakness. And, when Noel returned to the charge, he would find himself in presence ofthe count, who would boldly deny everything, politely refuse to haveanything to do with him and would possibly have him driven out of thehouse, as an impostor and forger. "

It was a strange coincidence, but yet easily explained, that M. DeCommarin, while telling his story, arrived at the same ideas as themagistrate, and at conclusions almost identical. In fact, why thatpersistence with respect to Claudine? He remembered plainly, that, inhis anger, he had said to his son, "Mankind is not in the habit ofdoing such fine actions for its own satisfaction. " That greatdisinterestedness was now explained. 

When the count had ceased speaking, M. Daburon said: "I thank you, sir. I can say nothing positive; but justice has weighty reasons to believethat, in the scene which you have just related to me, Viscount Albertplayed a part previously arranged. "

"And well arranged, " murmured the count; "for he deceived me!"

He was interrupted by the entrance of Noel, who carried under his arm ablack shagreen portfolio, ornamented with his monogram. 

The advocate bowed to the old gentleman, who in his turn rose andretired politely to the end of the room. 

"Sir, " said Noel, in an undertone to the magistrate, "you will find allthe letters in this portfolio. I must ask permission to leave you atonce, as Madame Gerdy's condition grows hourly more alarming. "

Noel had raised his voice a little, in pronouncing these last words; andthe count heard them. He started, and made a great effort to restrainthe question which leaped from his heart to his lips. 

"You must however give me a moment, my dear sir, " replied themagistrate. 

M. Daburon then quitted his chair, and, taking the advocate by the hand, led him to the count. 

"M. De Commarin, " said he, "I have the honour of presenting to you M. Noel Gerdy. "

M. De Commarin was probably expecting some scene of this kind: for not amuscle of his face moved: he remained perfectly calm. Noel, on his side, was like a man who had received a blow on the head; he staggered, andwas obliged to seek support from the back of a chair. 

Then these two, father and son, stood face to face, apparently deep inthought, but in reality examining one another with mutual distrust, eachstriving to gather something of the other's thoughts. 

M. Daburon had augured better results from this meeting, which he hadbeen awaiting ever since the count's arrival. He had expected that thisabrupt presentation would bring about an intensely pathetic scene, whichwould not give his two witnesses time for reflection. The countwould open his arms: Noel would throw himself into them; and thisreconciliation would only await the sanction of the tribunals, to becomplete. 

The coldness of the one, the embarrassment of the other, disconcertedhis plans. He therefore thought it necessary to intervene. 

"Count, " said he reproachfully, "remember that it was only a few minutesago that you admitted that M. Gerdy was your legitimate son. "

M. De Commarin made no reply; to judge from his lack of emotion, hecould not have heard. 

So Noel, summoning all his courage, ventured to speak first, --"Sir, " hestammered, "I entertain no--"

"You may call me father, " interrupted the haughty old man, in a tonewhich was by no means affectionate. Then addressing the magistrate hesaid: "Can I be of any further use to you, sir?"

"Only to hear your evidence read over, " replied M. Daburon, "and to signit if you find everything correct. You can proceed, Constant, " he added. 

The tall clerk turned half round on his chair and commenced. He hada peculiar way of jabbering over what he had scrawled. He read veryquickly, all at a stretch, without paying the least attention to eitherfull stops or commas, questions or replies; but went on reading as longas his breath lasted. When he could go on no longer, he took a breath, and then continued as before. Unconsciously, he reminded one of a diver, who every now and then raises his head above water, obtains a supply ofair, and disappears again. Noel was the only one to listen attentivelyto the reading, which to unpractised ears was unintelligible. Itapprised him of many things which it was important for him to know. Atlast Constant pronounced the words, "In testimony whereof, " etc. , whichend all official reports in France. 

He handed the pen to the count, who signed without hesitation. The oldnobleman then turned towards Noel. 

"I am not very strong, " he said; "you must therefore, my son, "emphasizing the word, "help your father to his carriage. "

The young advocate advanced eagerly. His face brightened, as he passedthe count's arm through his own. When they were gone, M. Daburon couldnot resist a impulse of curiosity. He hastened to the door, which heopened slightly; and, keeping his body in the background that he mightnot himself be seen, he looked out into the passage. The count and Noelhad not yet reached the end. They were going slowly. The count seemed todrag heavily and painfully along; the advocate took short steps, bendingslightly towards his father; and all his movements were marked with thegreatest solicitude. The magistrate remained watching them until theypassed out of sight at the end of the gallery. Then he returned to hisseat, heaving a deep sigh. 

"At least, " thought he, "I have helped to make one person happy. The daywill not be entirely a bad one. "

But he had no time to give way to his thoughts, the hours flew by soquickly. He wished to interrogate Albert as soon as possible; and he hadstill to receive the evidence of several of the count's servants, andthe report of the commissary of police charged with the arrest. Theservants who had been waiting their turn a long while were nowbrought in without delay, and examined separately. They had but littleinformation to give; but the testimony of each was so to say a freshaccusation. It was easy to see that all believed their master guilty. 

Albert's conduct since the beginning of the fatal week, his least words, his most insignificant movements, were reported, commented upon, andexplained. 

The man who lives in the midst of thirty servants is like an insect ina glass box under the magnifying glass of a naturalist. Not one of hisacts escapes their notice: he can scarcely have a secret of his own;and, if they cannot divine what it is, they at least know that he hasone. From morn till night he is the point of observation for thirtypairs of eyes, interested in studying the slightest changes in hiscountenance. 

The magistrate obtained, therefore, an abundance of those frivolousdetails which seem nothing at first; but the slightest of which may, atthe trial, become a question of life or death. 

By combining these depositions, reconciling them and putting them inorder, M. Daburon was able to follow his prisoner hour by hour from theSunday morning. 

Directly Noel left, the viscount gave orders that all visitors should beinformed that he had gone into the country. From that moment, the wholehousehold perceived that something had gone wrong with him, that he wasvery much annoyed, or very unwell. 

He did not leave his study on that day, but had his dinner brought up tohim. He ate very little, --only some soup, and a very thin fillet ofsole with white wine. While eating, he said to M. Contois, the butler:"Remind the cook to spice the sauce a little more, in future, " and thenadded in a low tone, "Ah! to what purpose?" In the evening he dismissedhis servants from all duties, saying, "Go, and amuse yourselves. " Heexpressly warned them not to disturb him unless he rang. 

On the Monday, he did not get up until noon, although usually an earlyriser. He complained of a violent headache, and of feeling sick. He took, however a cup of tea. He ordered his brougham, but almostimmediately countermanded the order. Lubin, his valet, heard him say:"I am hesitating too much;" and a few moments later, "I must make up mymind. " Shortly afterwards he began writing. 

He then gave Lubin a letter to carry to Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlange, with orders to deliver it only to herself or to Mademoiselle Schmidt, the governess. A second letter, containing two thousand franc notes, was intrusted to Joseph, to be taken to the viscount's club. Josephno longer remembered the name of the person to whom the letter wasaddressed; but it was not a person of title. That evening, Albert onlytook a little soup, and remained shut up in his room. 

He rose early on the Tuesday. He wandered about the house, as though hewere in great trouble, or impatiently awaiting something which did notarrive. On his going into the garden, the gardener asked his adviceconcerning a lawn. He replied, "You had better consult the count uponhis return. "

He did not breakfast any more than the day before. About one o'clock, hewent down to stables, and caressed, with an air of sadness, his favoritemare, Norma. Stroking her neck, he said, "Poor creature! poor old girl!"

At three o'clock, a messenger arrived with a letter. The viscount tookit, and opened it hastily. He was then near the flower-garden. Twofootmen distinctly heard him say, "She cannot resist. " He returned tothe house, and burnt the letter in the large stove in the hall. 

As he was sitting down to dinner, at six o'clock, two of his friends, M. De Courtivois and the Marquis de Chouze, insisted upon seeing him, in spite of all orders. They would not be refused. These gentlemen wereanxious for him to join them in some pleasure party, but he declined, saying that he had a very important appointment. 

At dinner he ate a little more than on the previous days. He even askedthe butler for a bottle of Chateau-Lafitte, the whole of which he drankhimself. While taking his coffee, he smoked a cigar in the dining room, contrary to the rules of the house. At half-past seven, according toJoseph and two footmen, or at eight according to the Swiss porter andLubin, the viscount went out on foot, taking an umbrella with him. Hereturned home at two o'clock in the morning, and at once dismissed hisvalet, who had waited up for him. 

On entering the viscount's room on the Wednesday, the valet was struckwith the condition in which he found his master's clothes. They werewet, and stained with mud; the trousers were torn. He ventured to makea remark about them. Albert replied, in a furious manner, "Throw the oldthings in a corner, ready to be given away. "

He appeared to be much better all that day. He breakfasted with a goodappetite; and the butler noticed that he was in excellent spirits. Hepassed the afternoon in the library, and burnt a pile of papers. 

On the Thursday, he again seemed very unwell. He was scarcely able to goand meet the count. That evening, after his interview with his father, he went to his room looking extremely ill. Lubin wanted to run for thedoctor: he forbade him to do so, or to mention to any one that he wasnot well. 

Such was the substance of twenty large pages, which the tall clerkhad covered with writing, without once turning his head to look at thewitnesses who passed by in their fine livery. 

M. Daburon managed to obtain this evidence in less than two hours. Though well aware of the importance of their testimony, all theseservants were very voluble. The difficulty was, to stop them when theyhad once started. From all they said, it appeared that Albert was a verygood master, --easily served, kind and polite to his servants. Wonderfulto relate! there were found only three among them who did not appearperfectly delighted at the misfortune which had befallen the family. Two were greatly distressed. M. Lubin, although he had been an object ofespecial kindness, was not one of these. 

The turn of the commissary of police had now come. In a few words, hegave an account of the arrest, already described by old Tabaret. He didnot forget to mention the one word "Lost, " which had escaped Albert; tohis mind, it was a confession. He then delivered all the articles seizedin the Viscount de Commarin's apartments. 

The magistrate carefully examined these things, and compared themclosely with the scraps of evidence gathered at La Jonchere. He soonappeared, more than ever, satisfied with the course he had taken. 

He then placed all these material proofs upon his table, and coveredthem over with three or four large sheets of paper. 

The day was far advanced; and M. Daburon had no more than sufficienttime to examine the prisoner before night. He now remembered that he hadtasted nothing since morning; and he sent hastily for a bottle of wineand some biscuits. It was not strength, however, that the magistrateneeded; it was courage. All the while that he was eating and drinking, his thoughts kept repeating this strange sentence, "I am about to appearbefore the Viscount de Commarin. " At any other time, he would havelaughed at the absurdity of the idea, but, at this moment, it seemed tohim like the will of Providence. 

"So be it, " said he to himself; "this is my punishment. "

And immediately he gave the necessary orders for Viscount Albert to bebrought before him. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Albert scarcely noticed his removal from home to the seclusion of theprison. Snatched away from his painful thoughts by the harsh voice ofthe commissary, saying. "In the name of the law I arrest you, " hismind, completely upset, was a long time in recovering its equilibrium, Everything that followed appeared to him to float indistinctly in athick mist, like those dream-scenes represented on the stage behind aquadruple curtain of gauze. 

To the questions put to him he replied, without knowing what he said. Two police agents took hold of his arms, and helped him down the stairs. He could not have walked down alone. His limbs, which bent beneath him, refused their support. The only thing he understood of all that was saidaround him was that the count had been struck with apoplexy; but eventhat he soon forgot. 

They lifted him into the cab, which was waiting in the court-yard at thefoot of the steps, rather ashamed at finding itself in such a place; andthey placed him on the back seat. Two police agents installed themselvesin front of him while a third mounted the box by the side of the driver. During the drive, he did not at all realize his situation. He layperfectly motionless in the dirty, greasy vehicle. His body, whichfollowed every jolt, scarcely allayed by the worn-out springs, rolledfrom one side to the other and his head oscillated on his shoulders, as if the muse of his neck were broken. He thought of Widow Lerouge. Herecalled her as she was when he went with his father to La Jonchere. Itwas in the spring-time; and the hawthorn blossoms scented the air. The old woman, in a white cap, stood at her garden gate: she spokebeseechingly. The count looked sternly at her as he listened, then, taking some gold from his purse, he gave it to her. 

On arriving at their destination they lifted him out of the cab, thesame way as they had lifted him in at starting. 

During the formality of entering his name in the jail-book in the dingy, stinking record office, and whilst replying mechanically to everything, he gave himself up with delight to recollections of Claire. He went backto the time of the early days of their love, when he doubted whether hewould ever have the happiness of being loved by her in return; when theyused to meet at Mademoiselle Goello's. 

This old maid had a house on the left bank of the Seine furnished inthe most eccentric manner. On all the dining-room furniture, and on themantel-piece, were placed a dozen or fifteen stuffed dogs, of variousbreeds, which together or successively had helped to cheer the maiden'slonely hours. She loved to relate stories of these pets whose affectionhad never failed her. Some were grotesque, others horrible. Oneespecially, outrageously stuffed seemed ready to burst. How many timeshe and Claire had laughed at it until the tears came!

The officials next began to search him. This crowning humiliation, theserough hands passing all over his body brought him somewhat to himself, and roused his anger. But it was already over; and they at once draggedhim along the dark corridors, over the filthy, slippery floor. Theyopened a door, and pushed him into a small cell. He then heard them lockand bolt the door. 

He was a prisoner, and, in accordance with special orders, in solitaryconfinement. He immediately felt a marked sensation of comfort. He wasalone. 

No more stifled whispers, harsh voices, implacable questions, soundedin his ears. A profound silence reigned around. It seemed to him that hehad forever escaped from society; and he rejoiced at it. He would havefelt relieved, had this even been the silence of the grave. His body, as well as his mind, was weighed down with weariness. He wanted tosit down, when he perceived a small bed, to the right, in front of thegrated window, which let in the little light there was. This bed was aswelcome to him as a plank would be to a drowning man. He threw himselfupon it, and lay down with delight; but he felt cold, so he unfoldedthe coarse woollen coverlid, and wrapping it about him, was soon soundasleep. 

In the corridor, two detectives, one still young, the other rather old, applied alternately their eyes and ears to the peep-hole in the door, watching every movement of the prisoner; "What a fellow he is!" murmuredthe younger officer. "If a man has no more nerve than that, he oughtto remain honest. He won't care much about his looks the morning of hisexecution, eh, M. Balan?"

"That depends, " replied the other. "We must wait and see. Lecoq told methat he was a terrible rascal. "

"Ah! look he arranges his bed, and lies down. Can he be going to sleep?That's good! It's the first time I ever saw such a thing. "

"It is because, comrade, you have only had dealings with the smallerrogues. All rascals of position--and I have had to do with more thanone--are this sort. At the moment of arrest, they are incapable ofanything; their heart fails them; but they recover themselves next day. "

"Upon my word, one would say he has gone to sleep! What a joke!"

"I tell you, my friend, " added the old man, pointedly, "that nothingis more natural. I am sure that, since the blow was struck, this youngfellow has hardly lived: his body has been all on fire. Now he knowsthat his secret is out; and that quiets him. "

"Ha, ha! M. Balan, you are joking: you say that that quiets him?"

"Certainly. There is no greater punishment, remember, than anxiety;everything is preferable. If you only possessed an income of tenthousand francs, I would show you a way to prove this. I would tell youto go to Hamburg and risk your entire fortune on one chance at rouge etnoir. You could relate to me, afterwards, what your feelings were whilethe ball was rolling. It is, my boy, as though your brain was being tornwith pincers, as though molten lead was being poured into your bones, inplace of marrow. This anxiety is so strong, that one feels relieved, onebreathes again, even when one has lost. It is ruin; but then the anxietyis over. "

"Really, M. Balan, one would think that you yourself had had just suchan experience. "

"Alas!" sighed the old detective, "it is to my love for the queen ofspades, my unhappy love, that you owe the honour of looking throughthis peephole in my company. But this fellow will sleep for a couple ofhours, do not lose sight of him; I am going to smoke a cigarette in thecourtyard. "

Albert slept four hours. On awaking his head seemed clearer than it hadbeen ever since his interview with Noel. It was a terrible moment forhim, when, for the first time he became fully aware of his situation. 

"Now, indeed, " said he, "I require all my courage. "

He longed to see some one, to speak, to be questioned, to explain. Hefelt a desire to call out. 

"But what good would that be?" he asked himself. "Some one will becoming soon. " He looked for his watch, to see what time it was, andfound that they had taken it away. He felt this deeply; they weretreating him like the most abandoned of villains. He felt in hispockets: they had all been carefully emptied. He thought now of hispersonal appearance; and, getting up, he repaired as much as possiblethe disorder of his toilet. He put his clothes in order, and dustedthem; he straightened his collar, and re-tied his cravat. Then pouringa little water on his handkerchief, he passed it over his face, bathinghis eyes which were greatly inflamed. Then he endeavoured to smooth hisbeard and hair. He had no idea that four lynx eyes were fixed upon himall the while. 

"Good!" murmured the young detective: "see how our cock sticks up hiscomb, and smooths his feathers!

"I told you, " put in Balan, "that he was only staggered. Hush! he isspeaking, I believe. "

But they neither surprised one of those disordered gestures nor one ofthose incoherent speeches, which almost always escape from the feeblewhen excited by fear, or from the imprudent ones who believe in thediscretion of their cells. One word alone, "honour, " reached the ears ofthe two spies. 

"These rascals of rank, " grumbled Balan, "always have this word in theirmouths. That which they most fear is the opinion of some dozen friends, and several thousand strangers, who read the 'Gazette des Tribunaux. 'They only think of their own heads later on. "

When the gendarmes came to conduct Albert before the investigatingmagistrate, they found him seated on the side of his bed, his feetpressed upon the iron rail, his elbows on his knees, and his head buriedin his hands. He rose, as they entered, and took a few steps towardsthem; but his throat was so dry that he was scarcely able to speak. Heasked for a moment, and, turning towards the little table, he filled anddrank two large glassfuls of water in succession. 

"I am ready!" he then said. And, with a firm step, he followed thegendarmes along the passage which led to the Palais de Justice. 

M. Daburon was just then in great anguish. He walked furiously up anddown his office, awaiting the prisoner. Again, and for the twentiethtime since morning, he regretted having engaged in the business. 

"Curse this absurd point of honour, which I have obeyed, " he inwardlyexclaimed. "I have in vain attempted to reassure myself by the aidof sophisms. I was wrong in not withdrawing. Nothing in the world canchange my feelings towards this young man. I hate him. I am his judge;and it is no less true, that at one time I longed to assassinate him. Ifaced him with a revolver in my hand: why did I not present it and fire?Do I know why? What power held my finger, when an almost insensiblepressure would have sufficed to kill him? I cannot say. Why is not hethe judge, I the assassin? If the intention was as punishable as thedeed, I ought to be guillotined. And it is under such conditions that Idare examine him!"

Passing before the door he heard the heavy footsteps of the gendarmes inthe passage. 

"It is he, " he said aloud and then hastily seated himself at his table, bending over his portfolios, as though striving to hide himself. Ifthe tall clerk had used his eyes, he would have noticed the singularspectacle of an investigating magistrate more agitated than the prisonerhe was about to examine. But he was blind to all around him; and, atthis moment, he was only aware of an error of fifteen centimes, whichhad slipped into his accounts, and which he was unable to rectify. 

Albert entered the magistrate's office with his head erect. His featuresbore traces of great fatigue and of sleepless nights. He was very pale;but his eyes were clear and sparkling. 

The usual questions which open such examinations gave M. Daburon anopportunity to recover himself. Fortunately, he had found time in themorning to prepare a plan, which he had now simply to follow. 

"You are aware, sir, " he commenced in a tone of perfect politeness, "that you have no right to the name you bear?"

"I know, sir, " replied Albert, "that I am the natural son of M. DeCommarin. I know further that my father would be unable to recognise me, even if he wished to, since I was born during his married life. "

"What were your feelings upon learning this?"

"I should speak falsely, sir, if I said I did not feel very bitterly. When one is in the high position I occupied, the fall is terrible. However, I never for a moment entertained the thought of contesting M. Noel Gerdy's rights. I always purposed, and still purpose, to yield, Ihave so informed M. De Commarin. "

M. Daburon expected just such a reply; and it only strengthened hissuspicions. Did it not enter into the line of defence which he hadforeseen? It was now his duty to seek some way of demolishing thisdefence, in which the prisoner evidently meant to shut himself up like atortoise in its shell. 

"You could not oppose M. Gerdy, " continued the magistrate, "with anychance of success. You had, indeed on your side, the count, and yourmother; but M. Gerdy was in possession of evidence that was certain towin his cause, that of Widow Lerouge. "

"I have never doubted that, sir. "

"Now, " continued the magistrate, seeking to hide the look which hefastened upon Albert, "justice supposes that, to do away with the onlyexisting proof, you have assassinated Widow Lerouge. "

This terrible accusation, terribly emphasised, caused no change inAlbert's features. He preserved the same firm bearing, without bravado. 

"Before God, " he answered, "and by all that is most sacred on earth, I swear to you, sir, that I am innocent! I am at this moment aclose prisoner, without communication with the outer world, reducedconsequently to the most absolute helplessness. It is through yourprobity that I hope to demonstrate my innocence. "

"What an actor!" thought the magistrate. "Can crime be so strong asthis?"

He glanced over his papers, reading certain passages of the precedingdepositions, turning down the corners of certain pages which containedimportant information. Then suddenly he resumed, "When you werearrested, you cried out, 'I am lost, ' what did you mean by that?"

"Sir, " replied Albert, "I remember having uttered those words. When Iknew of what crime I was accused, I was overwhelmed with consternation. My mind was, as it were, enlightened by a glimpse of the future. In amoment, I perceived all the horror of my situation. I understood theweight of the accusation, its probability, and the difficulties Ishould have in defending myself. A voice cried out to me, 'Who was mostinterested in Claudine's death?' And the knowledge of my imminent perilforced from me the exclamation you speak of. "

His explanation was more than plausible, was possible, and even likely. It had the advantage, too, of anticipating the axiom, "Search out theone whom the crime will benefit!" Tabaret had spoken truly, when he saidthat they would not easily make the prisoner confess. 

M. Daburon admired Albert's presence of mind, and the resources of hisperverse imagination. 

"You do indeed, " continued the magistrate, "appear to have had thegreatest interest in this death. Moreover, I will inform you thatrobbery was not the object of the crime. The things thrown into theSeine have been recovered. We know, also, that all the widow's paperswere burnt. Could they compromise any one but yourself? If you know ofany one, speak. "

"What can I answer, sir? Nothing. "

"Have you often gone to see this woman?"

"Three or four times with my father. "

"One of your coachmen pretends to have driven you there at least tentimes. "

"The man is mistaken. But what matters the number of visits?"

"Do you recollect the arrangements of the rooms? Can you describe them?"

"Perfectly, sir: there were two. Claudine slept in the back room. "

"You were in no way a stranger to Widow Lerouge. If you had knocked oneevening at her window-shutter, do you think she would have let you in?"

"Certainly, sir, and eagerly. "

"You have been unwell these last few days?"

"Very unwell, to say the least, sir. My body bent under the weight ofa burden too great for my strength. It was not, however, for want ofcourage. "

"Why did you forbid your valet, Lubin, to call in the doctor?"

"Ah, sir, how could the doctor cure my disease? All his science couldnot make me the legitimate son of the Count de Commarin. "

"Some very singular remarks made by you were overheard. You seemed to beno longer interested in anything concerning your home. You destroyed alarge number of papers and letters. "

"I had decided to leave the count, sir. My resolution explains myconduct. "

Albert replied promptly to the magistrate's questions, without theleast embarrassment, and in a confident tone. His voice, which wasvery pleasant to the ear, did not tremble. It concealed no emotion; itretained its pure and vibrating sound. 

M. Daburon deemed it wise to suspend the examination for a short time. With so cunning an adversary, he was evidently pursuing a false course. To proceed in detail was folly, he neither intimidated the prisoner, nor made him break through his reserve. It was necessary to take himunawares. 

"Sir, " resumed the magistrate, abruptly, "tell me exactly how you passedyour time last Tuesday evening, from six o'clock until midnight?"

For the first time, Albert seemed disconcerted. His glance, which had, till then, been fixed upon the magistrate, wavered. 

"During Tuesday evening, " he stammered, repeating the phrase to gaintime. 

"I have him, " thought the magistrate, starting with joy, and then addedaloud, "yes, from six o'clock until midnight. "

"I am afraid, sir, " answered Albert, "it will be difficult for me tosatisfy you. I haven't a very good memory. "

"Oh, don't tell me that!" interrupted the magistrate. "If I had askedwhat you were doing three months ago, on a certain evening, and at acertain hour, I could understand your hesitation; but this is aboutTuesday, and it is now Friday. Moreover, this day, so close, was thelast of the carnival; it was Shrove Tuesday. That circumstance ought tohelp your memory. "

"That evening, I went out walking, " murmured Albert. 

"Now, " continued the magistrate, "where did you dine?"

"At home, as usual. "

"No, not as usual. At the end of your meal, you asked for a bottle ofBordeaux, of which you drank the whole. You doubtless had need of someextra excitement for your subsequent plans. "

"I had no plans, " replied the prisoner with very evident uneasiness. 

"You make a mistake. Two friends came to seek you. You replied to them, before sitting down to dinner, that you had a very important engagementto keep. "

"That was only a polite way of getting rid of them. "

"Why?"

"Can you not understand, sir? I was resigned, but not comforted. I waslearning to get accustomed to the terrible blow. Would not one seeksolitude in the great crisis of one's life?"

"The prosecution pretends that you wished to be left alone, that youmight go to La Jonchere. During the day, you said, 'She can not resistme. ' Of whom were you speaking?"

"Of some one to whom I had written the evening before, and who hadreplied to me. I spoke the words, with her letter still in my hands. "

"This letter was, then, from a woman?"

"Yes. "

"What have you done with it?"

"I have burnt it. "

"This precaution leads one to suppose that you considered the lettercompromising. "

"Not at all, sir; it treated entirely of private matters. "

M. Daburon was sure that this letter came from Mademoiselle d'Arlange. Should he nevertheless ask the question, and again hear pronounced thename of Claire, which always aroused such painful emotions within him?He ventured to do so, leaning over his papers, so that the prisonercould not detect his emotion. 

"From whom did this letter come?" he asked. 

"From one whom I can not name. "

"Sir, " said the magistrate severely, "I will not conceal from youthat your position is greatly compromised. Do not aggravate it by thisculpable reticence. You are here to tell everything, sir. "

"My own affairs, yes, not those of others. "

Albert gave this last answer in a dry tone. He was giddy, flurried, exasperated, by the prying and irritating mode of the examination, whichscarcely gave him time to breathe. The magistrate's questions fell uponhim more thickly than the blows of the blacksmith's hammer upon thered-hot iron which he is anxious to beat into shape before it cools. 

The apparent rebellion of his prisoner troubled M. Daburon a great deal. He was further extremely surprised to find the discernment of the olddetective at fault; just as though Tabaret were infallible. Tabarethad predicted an unexceptionable _alibi_; and this _alibi_ was notforthcoming. Why? Had this subtle villain something better than that?What artful defence had he to fall back upon? Doubtless he kept inreserve some unforeseen stroke, perhaps irresistible. 

"Gently, " thought the magistrate. "I have not got him yet. " Then hequickly added aloud: "Continue. After dinner what did you do?"

"I went out for a walk. "

"Not immediately. The bottle emptied, you smoked a cigar in thedining-room, which was so unusual as to be noticed. What kind of cigarsdo you usually smoke?"

"Trabucos. "

"Do you not use a cigar-holder, to keep your lips from contact with thetobacco?"

"Yes, sir, " replied Albert, much surprised at this series of questions. 

"At what time did you go out?"

"About eight o'clock. "

"Did you carry an umbrella?"

"Yes. "

"Where did you go?"

"I walked about. "

"Alone, without any object, all the evening?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Now trace out your wanderings for me very carefully. "

"Ah, sir, that is very difficult to do! I went out simply to walk about, for the sake of exercise, to drive away the torpor which had depressedme for three days. I don't know whether you can picture to yourself myexact condition. I was half out of my mind. I walked about at hazardalong the quays. I wandered through the streets, --"

"All that is very improbable, " interrupted the magistrate. M. Daburon, however, knew that it was at least possible. Had not he himself, onenight, in a similar condition, traversed all Paris? What reply could hehave made, had some one asked him next morning where he had been, exceptthat he had not paid attention, and did not know? But he had forgottenthis; and his previous hesitations, too, had all vanished. 

As the inquiry advanced, the fever of investigation took possessionof him. He enjoyed the emotions of the struggle, his passion for hiscalling became stronger than ever. 

He was again an investigating magistrate, like the fencing master, who, once practising with his dearest friend, became excited by the clash ofthe weapons, and, forgetting himself, killed him. 

"So, " resumed M. Daburon, "you met absolutely no one who can affirm thathe saw you? You did not speak to a living soul? You entered no place, not even a cafe or a theatre, or a tobacconist's to light one of yourfavourite trabucos?"

"No, sir. "

"Well, it is a great misfortune for you, yes, a very great misfortune;for I must inform you, that it was precisely during this Tuesdayevening, between eight o'clock and midnight, that Widow Lerouge wasassassinated. Justice can point out the exact hour. Again, sir, in yourown interest, I recommend you to reflect, --to make a strong appeal toyour memory. "

This pointing out of the exact day and hour of the murder seemed toastound Albert. He raised his hand to his forehead with a despairinggesture. However he replied in a calm voice, --"I am very unfortunate, sir: but I can recollect nothing. "

M. Daburon's surprise was immense. What, not an _alibi_? Nothing? Thiscould be no snare nor system of defence. Was, then, this man as cunningas he had imagined? Doubtless. Only he had been taken unawares. He hadnever imagined it possible for the accusation to fall upon him; and itwas almost by a miracle it had done so. 

The magistrate slowly raised, one by one, the large pieces of paper thatcovered the articles seized in Albert's rooms. 

"We will pass, " he continued, "to the examination of the charges whichweigh against you. Will you please come nearer? Do you recognize thesearticles as belonging to yourself?"

"Yes, sir, they are all mine. "

"Well, take this foil. Who broke it?"

"I, sir, in fencing with M. De Courtivois, who can bear witness to it. "

"He will be heard. Where is the broken end?"

"I do not know. You must ask Lubin, my valet. "

"Exactly. He declares that he has hunted for it, and cannot find it. Imust tell you that the victim received the fatal blow from the sharpenedend of a broken foil. This piece of stuff, on which the assassin wipedhis weapon, is a proof of what I state. "

"I beseech you, sir, to order a most minute search to be made. It isimpossible that the other half of the foil is not to be found. "

"Orders shall be given to that effect. Look, here is the exact imprintof the murderer's foot traced on this sheet of paper. I will place oneof your boots upon it and the sole, as you perceive, fits the tracingwith the utmost precision. This plaster was poured into the hollow leftby the heel: you observe that it is, in all respects, similar in shapeto the heels of your own boots. I perceive, too, the mark of a peg, which appears in both. "

Albert followed with marked anxiety every movement of the magistrate. It was plain that he was struggling against a growing terror. Washe attacked by that fright which overpowers the guilty when they seethemselves on the point of being confounded. To all the magistrate'sremarks, he answered in a low voice, --"It is true--perfectly true. "

"That is so, " continued M. Daburon; "yet listen further, beforeattempting to defend yourself. The criminal had an umbrella. The end ofthis umbrella sank in the clayey soil; the round of wood which is placedat the end of the silk, was found moulded in the clay. Look at this clodof clay, raised with the utmost care; and now look at your umbrella. Compare the rounds. Are they alike, or not?"

"These things, sir, " attempted Albert, "are manufactured in largequantities. "

"Well, we will pass over that proof. Look at this cigar end, found onthe scene of the crime, and tell me of what brand it is, and how it wassmoked. "

"It is a trabucos, and was smoked in a cigar-holder. "

"Like these?" persisted the magistrate, pointing to the cigars and theamber and meerschaum-holders found in the viscount's library. 

"Yes!" murmured Albert, "it is a fatality--a strange coincidence. "

"Patience, that is nothing, as yet. The assassin wore gloves. Thevictim, in the death struggle, seized his hands; and some pieces of kidremained in her nails. These have been preserved, and are here. They areof a lavender colour, are they not? Now, here are the gloves which youwore on Tuesday. They, too, are lavender, and they are frayed. Comparethese pieces of kid with your own gloves. Do they not correspond? Arethey not of the same colour, the same skin?"

It was useless to deny it, equivocate, or seek subterfuges. The evidencewas there, and it was irrefutable. While appearing to occupy himselfsolely with the objects lying upon his table, M. Daburon did not losesight of the prisoner. Albert was terrified. A cold perspiration bathedhis temples, and glided drop by drop down his cheeks. His hands trembledso much that they were of no use to him. In a chilling voice he keptrepeating: "It is horrible, horrible!"

"Finally, " pursued the inexorable magistrate, "here are the trousers youwore on the evening of the murder. It is plain that not long ago theywere very wet; and, besides the mud on them, there are traces of earth. Besides that they are torn at the knees. We will admit, for the momentthat you might not remember where you went on that evening; but whowould believe that you do not know when you tore your trousers and howyou frayed your gloves?"

What courage could resist such assaults? Albert's firmness and energywere at an end. His brain whirled. He fell heavily into a chair, exclaiming, --"It is enough to drive me mad!"

"Do you admit, " insisted the magistrate, whose gaze had become firmlyfixed upon the prisoner, "do you admit that Widow Lerouge could onlyhave been stabbed by you?"

"I admit, " protested Albert, "that I am the victim of one of thoseterrible fatalities which make men doubt the evidence of their reason. Iam innocent. "

"Then tell me where you passed Tuesday evening. "

"Ah, sir!" cried the prisoner, "I should have to--" But, restraininghimself, he added in a faint voice, "I have made the only answer that Ican make. "

M. Daburon rose, having now reached his grand stroke. 

"It is, then, my duty, " said he, with a shade of irony, "to supply yourfailure of memory. I am going to remind you of where you went and whatyou did. On Tuesday evening at eight o'clock, after having obtained fromthe wine you drank, the dreadful energy you needed, you left your home. At thirty-five minutes past eight, you took the train at the St. Lazarestation. At nine o'clock, you alighted at the station at Rueil. "

And, not disdaining to employ Tabaret's ideas, the investigatingmagistrate repeated nearly word for word the tirade improvised the nightbefore by the amateur detective. 

He had every reason, while speaking, to admire the old fellow'spenetration. In all his life, his eloquence had never produced sostriking an effect. Every sentence, every word, told. The prisoner'sassurance, already shaken, fell little by little, just like the outercoating of a wall when riddled with bullets. 

Albert was, as the magistrate perceived, like a man, who, rolling tothe bottom of a precipice, sees every branch and every projecture whichmight retard his fall fail him, and who feels a new and more painfulbruise each time his body comes in contact with them. 

"And now, " concluded the investigating magistrate, "listen to goodadvice: do not persist in a system of denying, impossible to sustain. Give in. Justice, rest assured, is ignorant of nothing which it isimportant to know. Believe me; seek to deserve the indulgence of yourjudges, confess your guilt. "

M. Daburon did not believe that his prisoner would still persistin asserting his innocence. He imagined he would be overwhelmed andconfounded, that he would throw himself at his feet, begging for mercy. But he was mistaken. 

Albert, in spite of his great prostration, found, in one last effortof his will, sufficient strength to recover himself and againprotest, --"You are right, sir, " he said in a sad, but firm voice;"everything seems to prove me guilty. In your place, I should havespoken as you have done; yet all the same, I swear to you that I aminnocent. "

"Come now, do you really--" began the magistrate. 

"I am innocent, " interrupted Albert; "and I repeat it, without the leasthope of changing in any way your conviction. Yes, everything speaksagainst me, everything, even my own bearing before you. It is true, mycourage has been shaken by these incredible, miraculous, overwhelmingcoincidences. I am overcome, because I feel the impossibility of provingmy innocence. But I do not despair. My honour and my life are in thehands of God. At this very hour when to you I appear lost, --for I in noway deceive myself, sir, --I do not despair of a complete justification. I await confidently. "

"What do you mean?" asked the magistrate. 

"Nothing but what I say, sir. "

"So you persist in denying your guilt?"

"I am innocent. "

"But this is folly--"

"I am innocent. "

"Very well, " said M. Daburon; "that is enough for to-day. You will hearthe official report of your examination read, and will then be takenback to solitary confinement. I exhort you to reflect. Night willperhaps bring on a better feeling; if you wish at any time to speakto me, send word, and I will come to you. I will give orders to thateffect. You may read now, Constant. "

When Albert had departed under the escort of the gendarmes, themagistrate muttered in a low tone, "There's an obstinate fellow foryou. " He certainly no longer entertained the shadow of a doubt. To him, Albert was as surely the murderer as if he had admitted his guiltEven if he should persist in his system of denial to the end of theinvestigation, it was impossible, that, with the proofs already in thepossession of the police, a true bill should not be found against him. He was therefore certain of being committed for trial at the assizes. Itwas a hundred to one, that the jury would bring in a verdict of guilty. 

Left to himself, however, M. Daburon did not experience that intensesatisfaction, mixed with vanity, which he ordinarily felt after he hadsuccessfully conducted an examination, and had succeeded in gettinghis prisoner into the same position as Albert. Something disturbed andshocked him. At the bottom of his heart, he felt ill at ease. He hadtriumphed; but his victory gave him only uneasiness, pain, and vexation. A reflection so simple that he could hardly understand why it had notoccurred to him at first, increased his discontent, and made him angrywith himself. 

"Something told me, " he muttered, "that I was wrong to undertake thisbusiness. I am punished for not having obeyed that inner voice. I oughtto have declined to proceed with the investigation. The Viscountde Commarin, was, all the same, certain to be arrested, imprisoned, examined, confounded, tried, and probably condemned. Then, being in noway connected with the trial, I could have reappeared before Claire. Hergrief will be great. As her friend, I could have soothed her, mingledmy tears with hers, calmed her regrets. With time, she might have beenconsoled, and perhaps have forgotten him. She could not have helpedfeeling grateful to me, and then who knows--? While now, whatever mayhappen, I shall be an object of loathing to her: she will never be ableto endure the sight of me. In her eyes I shall always be her lover'sassassin. I have with my own hands opened an abyss! I have lost her asecond time, and by my own fault. "

The unhappy man heaped the bitterest reproaches upon himself. He was indespair. He had never so hated Albert, --that wretch, who, stained witha crime, stood in the way of his happiness. Then too he cursed oldTabaret! Alone, he would not have decided so quickly. He would havewaited, thought over the matter, matured his decision, and certainlyhave perceived the inconveniences, which now occurred to him. The oldfellow, always carried away like a badly trained bloodhound, and fullof stupid enthusiasm, had confused him, and led him to do what he now somuch regretted. 

It was precisely this unfavorable moment that M. Tabaret chose forreappearing before the magistrate. He had just been informed of thetermination of the inquiry; and he arrived, impatient to know what hadpassed, swelling with curiosity, and full of the sweet hope of hearingof the fulfilment of his predictions. 

"What answers did he make?" he asked even before he had closed the door. 

"He is evidently guilty, " replied the magistrate, with a harshness verydifferent to his usual manner. 

Old Tabaret, who expected to receive praises by the basketful, wasastounded at this tone! It was therefore, with great hesitancy that heoffered his further services. 

"I have come, " he said modestly, "to know if any investigations arenecessary to demolish the _alibi_ pleaded by the prisoner. "

"He pleaded no _alibi_, " replied the magistrate, dryly. 

"How, " cried the detective, "no _alibi_? Pshaw! I ask pardon: he has ofcourse then confessed everything. "

"No, " said the magistrate impatiently, "he has confessed nothing. Heacknowledges that the proofs are decisive: he cannot give an account ofhow he spent his time; but he protests his innocence. "

In the centre of the room, M. Tabaret stood with his mouth wide open, and his eyes staring wildly, and altogether in the most grotesqueattitude his astonishment could effect. He was literally thunderstruck. In spite of his anger, M. Daburon could not help smiling; and evenConstant gave a grin, which on his lips was equivalent to a paroxysm oflaughter. 

"Not an _alibi_, nothing?" murmured the old fellow. "No explanations?The idea! It is inconceivable! Not an _alibi_? We must then be mistaken:he cannot be the criminal. That is certain!"

The investigating magistrate felt that the old amateur must have beenwaiting the result of the examination at the wine shop round the corner, or else that he had gone mad. 

"Unfortunately, " said he, "we are not mistaken. It is but too clearlyshown that M. De Commarin is the murderer. However, if you like, you canask Constant for his report of the examination, and read it over while Iput these papers in order. "

"Very well, " said the old fellow with feverish anxiety. 

He sat down in Constant's chair, and, leaning his elbows on the table, thrusting his hands in his hair, he in less than no time read thereport through. When he had finished, he arose with pale and distortedfeatures. 

"Sir, " said he to the magistrate in a strange voice, "I have been theinvoluntary cause of a terrible mistake. This man is innocent. "

"Come, come, " said M. Daburon, without stopping his preparations fordeparture, "you are going out of your mind, my dear M. Tabaret. How, after all that you have read there, can--"

"Yes, sir, yes: it is because I have read this that I entreat you topause, or we shall add one more mistake to the sad list of judicialerrors. Read this examination over carefully; there is not a replybut which declares this unfortunate man innocent, not a word but whichthrows out a ray of light. And he is still in prison, still in solitaryconfinement?"

"He is; and there he will remain, if you please, " interrupted themagistrate. "It becomes you well to talk in this manner, after the wayyou spoke last night, when I hesitated so much. "

"But, sir, " cried the old detective, "I still say precisely the same. Ah, wretched Tabaret! all is lost; no one understands you. Pardon me, sir, if I lack the respect due to you; but you have not grasped mymethod. It is, however, very simple. Given a crime, with all thecircumstances and details, I construct, bit by bit, a plan ofaccusation, which I do not guarantee until it is entire and perfect. Ifa man is found to whom this plan applies exactly in every particularthe author of the crime is found: otherwise, one has laid hands uponan innocent person. It is not sufficient that such and such particularsseem to point to him; it must be all or nothing. This is infallible. Now, in this case, how have I reached the culprit? Through proceeding byinference from the known to the unknown. I have examined his work; and Ihave formed an idea of the worker. Reason and logic lead us to what? Toa villain, determined, audacious, and prudent, versed in the business. And do you think that such a man would neglect a precaution that wouldnot be omitted by the stupidest tyro? It is inconceivable. What! thisman is so skillful as to leave such feeble traces that they escapeGevrol's practised eye, and you think he would risk his safety byleaving an entire night unaccounted for? It's impossible! I am as sureof my system as of a sum that has been proved. The assassin has an_alibi_. Albert has pleaded none; then he is innocent. "

M. Daburon surveyed the detective pityingly, much as he wouldhave looked at a remarkable monomaniac. When the old fellow hadfinished, --"My worthy M. Tabaret, " the magistrate said to him: "you havebut one fault. You err through an excess of subtlety, you accord toofreely to others the wonderful sagacity with which you yourself areendowed. Our man has failed in prudence, simply because he believed hisrank would place him above suspicion. "

"No, sir, no, a thousand times no. My culprit, --the true one, --he whomwe have missed catching, feared everything. Besides, does Albert defendhimself? No. He is overwhelmed because he perceives coincidences sofatal that they appear to condemn him, without a chance of escape. Doeshe try to excuse himself? No. He simply replies, 'It is terrible. ' Andyet all through his examination I feel reticence that I cannot explain. "

"I can explain it very easily; and I am as confident as though he hadconfessed everything. I have more than sufficient proofs for that. "

"Ah, sir, proofs! There are always enough of those against an arrestedman. They existed against every innocent man who was ever condemned. Proofs! Why, I had them in quantities against Kaiser, the poor littletailor, who--"

"Well, " interrupted the magistrate, hastily, "if it is not he, the mostinterested one, who committed the crime, who then is it? His father, theCount de Commarin?"

"No: the true assassin is a young man. "

M. Daburon had arranged his papers, and finished his preparations. Hetook up his hat, and, as he prepared to leave, replied: "You must thensee that I am right. Come and see me by-and-by, M. Tabaret, and makehaste and get rid of all your foolish ideas. To-morrow we will talk thewhole matter over again. I am rather tired to-night. " Then he added, addressing his clerk, "Constant, look in at the record office, in casethe prisoner Commarin should wish to speak to me. "

He moved towards the door; but M. Tabaret barred his exit. 

"Sir, " said the old man, "in the name of heaven listen to me! He isinnocent, I swear to you. Help me, then, to find the real culprit. Sir, think of your remorse should you cause an--"

But the magistrate would not hear more. He pushed old Tabaret quicklyaside, and hurried out. 

The old man now turned to Constant. He wished to convince him. Losttrouble: the tall clerk hastened to put his things away, thinking of hissoup, which was getting cold. 

So that M. Tabaret soon found himself locked out of the room and alonein the dark passage. All the usual sounds of the Palais had ceased: theplace was silent as the tomb. The old detective desperately tore hishair with both hands. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "Albert is innocent; and it is I who have castsuspicion upon him. It is I, fool that I am, who have infused into theobstinate spirit of this magistrate a conviction that I can no longerdestroy. He is innocent and is yet enduring the most horrible anguish. Suppose he should commit suicide! There have been instances of wretchedmen, who in despair at being falsely accused have killed themselves intheir cells. Poor boy! But I will not abandon him. I have ruined him: Iwill save him! I must, I will find the culprit; and he shall pay dearlyfor my mistake, the scoundrel!"

CHAPTER XIII. 

After seeing the Count de Commarin safely in his carriage at theentrance of the Palais de Justice, Noel Gerdy seemed inclined to leavehim. Resting one hand against the half-opened carriage door, he bowedrespectfully, and said: "When, sir, shall I have the honour of paying myrespects to you?"

"Come with me now, " said the old nobleman. 

The advocate, still leaning forward, muttered some excuses. He had, hesaid, important business: he must positively return home at once. 

"Come, " repeated the count, in a tone which admitted no reply. 

Noel obeyed. 

"You have found your father, " said M. De Commarin in a low tone; "but Imust warn you, that at the same time you lose your independence. "

The carriage started; and only then did the count notice that Noelhad very modestly seated himself opposite him. This humility seemed todisplease him greatly. 

"Sit here by my side, sir, " he exclaimed; "are you not my son?"

The advocate, without replying, took his seat by the side of theterrible old man, but occupied as little room as possible. 

He had been very much upset by his interview with M. Daburon; for heretained none of his usual assurance, none of that exterior coolness bywhich he was accustomed to conceal his feelings. Fortunately, the ridegave him time to breathe, and to recover himself a little. 

On the way from the Palais de Justice to the De Commarin mansion, not aword passed between the father and son. When the carriage stopped beforethe steps leading to the principal entrance, and the count got out withNoel's assistance, there was great commotion among the servants. 

There were, it is true, few of them present, nearly all having beensummoned to the Palais; but the count and the advocate had scarcelydisappeared, when, as if by enchantment, they were all assembled inthe hall. They came from the garden, the stables, the cellar, and thekitchen. Nearly all bore marks of their calling. A young groom appearedwith his wooden shoes filled with straw, shuffling about on the marblefloor like a mangy dog on a Gobelin tapestry. One of them recognisedNoel as the visitor of the previous Sunday; and that was enough to setfire to all these gossip-mongers, thirsting for scandal. 

Since morning, moreover, the unusual events at the De Commarin mansionhad caused a great stir in society. A thousand stories werecirculated, talked over, corrected, and added to by the ill-naturedand malicious, --some abominably absurd, others simply idiotic. Twentypeople, very noble and still more proud, had not been above sendingtheir most intelligent servants to pay a little visit among the count'sretainers, for the sole purpose of learning something positive. Asit was, nobody knew anything; and yet everybody pretended to be fullyinformed. 

Let any one explain who can this very common phenomenon: A crime iscommitted; justice arrives, wrapped in mystery; the police are stillignorant of almost everything; and yet details of the most minutecharacter are already circulated about the streets. 

"So, " said a cook, "that tall dark fellow with the whiskers is thecount's true son!"

"You are right, " said one of the footmen who had accompanied M. DeCommarin; "as for the other, he is no more his son than Jean here; who, by the way, will be kicked out of doors, if he is caught in this part ofthe house with his dirty working-shoes on. "

"What a romance, " exclaimed Jean, supremely indifferent to the dangerwhich threatened him. 

"Such things constantly occur in great families, " said the cook. 

"How ever did it happen?"

"Well, you see, one day, long ago, when the countess who is now dead wasout walking with her little son, who was about six months old, the childwas stolen by gypsies. The poor lady was full of grief; but above all, was greatly afraid of her husband, who was not over kind. What did shedo? She purchased a brat from a woman, who happened to be passing;and, never having noticed his child, the count has never known thedifference. "

"But the assassination!"

"That's very simple. When the woman saw her brat in such a nice berth, she bled him finely, and has kept up a system of blackmailing all along. The viscount had nothing left for himself. So he resolved at last to putan end to it, and come to a final settling with her. "

"And the other, who is up there, the dark fellow?"

The orator would have gone on, without doubt, giving the mostsatisfactory explanations of everything, if he had not been interruptedby the entrance of M. Lubin, who came from the Palais in company ofyoung Joseph. His success, so brilliant up to this time, was cut short, just like that of a second-rate singer when the star of the eveningcomes on the stage. The entire assembly turned towards Albert's valet, all eyes questioning him. He of course knew all, he was the man theywanted. He did not take advantage of his position, and keep themwaiting. 

"What a rascal!" he exclaimed at first. "What a villainous fellow isthis Albert!"

He entirely did away with the "Mr. " and the "Viscount, " and met withgeneral approval for doing so. 

"However, " he added, "I always had my doubts. The fellow didn'tplease me by half. You see now to what we are exposed every day in ourprofession, and it is dreadfully disagreeable. The magistrate did notconceal it from me. 'M. Lubin, ' said he, 'it is very sad for a manlike you to have waited on such a scoundrel. ' For you must know, that, besides an old woman over eighty years old, he also assassinated a younggirl of twelve. The little child, the magistrate told me, was choppedinto bits. "

"Ah!" put in Joseph; "he must have been a great fool. Do people do thosesort of things themselves when they are rich, and when there are so manypoor devils who only ask to gain their living?"

"Pshaw!" said M. Lubin in a knowing tone; "you will see him come out ofit as white as snow. These rich men can do anything. "

"Anyhow, " said the cook, "I'd willingly give a month's wages to be amouse, and to listen to what the count and the tall dark fellow aretalking about. Suppose some one went up and tried to find out what isgoing on. "

This proposition did not meet with the least favour. The servantsknew by experience that, on important occasions, spying was worse thanuseless. 

M. De Commarin knew all about servants from infancy. His study was, therefore, a shelter from all indiscretion. The sharpest ear placed atthe keyhole could hear nothing of what was going on within, even whenthe master was in a passion, and his voice loudest. One alone, Denis, the count's valet, had the opportunity of gathering information; but hewas well paid to be discreet, and he was so. 

At this moment, M. De Commarin was sitting in the same arm-chair onwhich the evening before he had bestowed such furious blows whilelistening to Albert. 

As soon as he left his carriage, the old nobleman recovered hishaughtiness. He became even more arrogant in his manner, than he hadbeen humble when before the magistrate, as though he were ashamed ofwhat he now considered an unpardonable weakness. 

He wondered how he could have yielded to a momentary impulse, how hisgrief could have so basely betrayed him. 

At the remembrance of the avowals wrested from him by a sort ofdelirium, he blushed, and reproached himself bitterly. The same asAlbert, the night before, Noel, having fully recovered himself, stooderect, cold as marble, respectful, but no longer humble. 

The father and son exchanged glances which had nothing of sympathy norfriendliness. 

They examined one another, they almost measured each other, much astwo adversaries feel their way with their eyes before encountering withtheir weapons. 

"Sir, " said the count at length in a harsh voice, "henceforth this houseis yours. From this moment you are the Viscount de Commarin; you regainpossession of all the rights of which you were deprived. Listen, beforeyou thank me. I wish, at once, to relieve you of all misunderstanding. Remember this well, sir; had I been master of the situation, I wouldnever have recognised you: Albert should have remained in the positionin which I placed him. "

"I understand you, sir, " replied Noel. "I don't think that I couldever bring myself to do an act like that by which you deprived me ofmy birthright; but I declare that, if I had the misfortune to do so, Ishould afterwards have acted as you have. Your rank was too conspicuousto permit a voluntary acknowledgment. It was a thousand times better tosuffer an injustice to continue in secret, than to expose the name tothe comments of the malicious. "

This answer surprised the count, and very agreeably too. But he wouldn'tlet his satisfaction be seen, and it was in a still harsher voice thathe resumed. 

"I have no claim, sir, upon your affection; I do not ask for it, but Iinsist at all times upon the utmost deference. It is traditional in ourhouse, that a son shall never interrupt his father when he is speaking;that, you have just been guilty of. Neither do children judge theirparents; that also you have just done. When I was forty years of age myfather was in his second childhood; but I do not remember ever havingraised my voice above his. This said, I continue. I provided thenecessary funds for the expenses of Albert's household completely, distinct from my own, for he had his own servants, horses, andcarriages; and besides that I allowed the unhappy boy four thousandfrancs a month. I have decided in order to put a stop to all foolishgossip, and to make your position the easier, that you should live ona grander scale; this matter concerns myself. Further, I will increaseyour monthly allowance to six thousand francs; which I trust youwill spend as nobly as possible, giving the least possible cause forridicule. I cannot too strongly exhort you to the utmost caution. Keepclose watch over yourself. Weigh your words well. Study your slightestactions. You will be the point of observation of the thousands ofimpertinent idlers who compose our world; your blunders will be theirdelight. Do you fence?"

"Moderately well. "

"That will do! Do you ride?"

"No; but in six months I will be a good horseman, or break my neck. "

"You must become a horseman, and not break anything. Let us proceed. You will, of course, not occupy Albert's apartments. They will be walledoff, as soon as I am free of the police. Thank heaven! the house islarge. You will occupy the other wing; and there will be a separateentrance to your apartments, by another staircase. Servants, horses, carriages, furniture, such as become a viscount, will be at yourservice, cost what it may, within forty-eight hours. On the day of yourtaking possession, you must look as though you had been installed therefor years. There will be a great scandal; but that cannot be avoided. Aprudent father might send you away for a few months to the Austrian orRussian courts; but, in this instance, such prudence would be absurd. Much better a dreadful outcry, which ends quickly, than low murmurswhich last forever. Dare public opinion; and, in eight days, it willhave exhausted its comments, and the story will have become old. So, to work! This very evening the workmen shall be here; and, in the firstplace, I must present you to my servants. "

To put his purpose into execution, the count moved to touch thebell-rope. Noel stopped him. 

Since the commencement of this interview, the advocate had wandered inthe regions of the thousand and one nights, the wonderful lamp in hishand. The fairy reality cast into the shade his wildest dreams. He wasdazzled by the count's words, and had need of all his reason to struggleagainst the giddiness which came over him, on realising his great goodfortune. Touched by a magic wand, he seemed to awake to a thousand noveland unknown sensations. He rolled in purple, and bathed in gold. 

But he knew how to appear unmoved. His face had contracted the habit ofguarding the secret of the most violent internal excitement. While allhis passions vibrated within him, he appeared to listen with a sad andalmost indifferent coldness. 

"Permit me, sir, " he said to the count "without overstepping the boundsof the utmost respect, to say a few words. I am touched more than Ican express by your goodness; and yet I beseech you, to delay itsmanifestation. The proposition I am about to suggest may perhaps appearto you worthy of consideration. It seems to me that the situationdemands the greatest delicacy on my part. It is well to despise publicopinion, but not to defy it. I am certain to be judged with the utmostseverity. If I install myself so suddenly in your house, what will besaid? I shall have the appearance of a conqueror, who thinks little, so long as he succeeds, of passing over the body of the conquered. Theywill reproach me with occupying the bed still warm from Albert's body. They will jest bitterly at my haste in taking possession. They willcertainly compare me to Albert, and the comparison will be to mydisadvantage, since I should appear to triumph at a time when a greatdisaster has fallen upon our house. "

The count listened without showing any signs of disapprobation, struck perhaps by the justice of these reasons. Noel imagined that hisharshness was much more feigned than real; and this idea encouraged him. 

"I beseech you then, sir, " he continued, "to permit me for the presentin no way to change my mode of living, By not showing myself, I leaveall malicious remarks to waste themselves in air, --I let public opinionthe better familiarise itself with the idea of a coming change. Thereis a great deal in not taking the world by surprise. Being expected, Ishall not have the air of an intruder on presenting myself. Absent, I shall have the advantages which the unknown always possess; I shallobtain the good opinion of all those who have envied Albert; and Ishall secure as champions all those who would to-morrow assail me, ifmy elevation came suddenly upon them. Besides, by this delay, I shallaccustom myself to my abrupt change of fortune. I ought not to bringinto your world, which is now mine, the manners of a parvenu. My nameought not to inconvenience me, like a badly fitting coat. "

"Perhaps it would be wisest, " murmured the count. 

This assent, so easily obtained, surprised Noel. He got the idea thatthe count had only wished to prove him, to tempt him. In any case, whether he had triumphed by his eloquence, or whether he had simplyshunned a trap, he had succeeded. His confidence increased; he recoveredall his former assurance. 

"I must add, sir, " he continued, "that there are a few mattersconcerning myself which demand my attention. Before entering upon my newlife, I must think of those I am leaving behind me. I have friends andclients. This event has surprised me, just as I am beginning to reap thereward of ten years of hard work and perseverance. I have as yet onlysown; I am on the point of reaping. My name is already known; I haveobtained some little influence. I confess, without shame, that I haveheretofore professed ideas and opinions that would not be suited to thishouse; and it is impossible in the space of a day--"

"Ah!" interrupted the count in a bantering tone, "you are a liberal. Itis a fashionable disease. Albert also was a great liberal. "

"My ideas, sir, " said Noel quickly, "were those of every intelligent manwho wishes to succeed. Besides, have not all parties one and the sameaim--power? They merely take different means of reaching it. I will notenlarge upon this subject. Be assured, sir, that I shall know how tobear my name, and think and act as a man of my rank should. "

"I trust so, " said M. De Commarin; "and I hope that you will never makeme regret Albert. "

"At least, sir, it will not be my fault. But, since you have mentionedthe name of that unfortunate young man, let us occupy ourselves abouthim. "

The count cast a look of distrust upon Noel. 

"What can now be done for Albert?" he asked. 

"What, sir!" cried Noel with ardour, "would you abandon him, when hehas not a friend left in the world? He is still your son, sir, he ismy brother; for thirty years he has borne the name of Commarin. All themembers of a family are jointly liable. Innocent, or guilty, he has aright to count upon us; and we owe him our assistance. "

"What do you then hope for, sir?" asked the count. 

"To save him, if he is innocent; and I love to believe that he is. I aman advocate, sir, and I wish to defend him. I have been told that Ihave some talent; in such a cause I must have. Yes, however strong thecharges against him may be, I will overthrow them. I will dispel alldoubts. The truth shall burst forth at the sound of my voice. I willfind new accents to imbue the judges with my own conviction. I will savehim, and this shall be my last cause. "

"And if he should confess, " said the count, "if he has alreadyconfessed?"

"Then, sir, " replied Noel with a dark look, "I will render him the lastservice, which in such a misfortune I should ask of a brother, I willprocure him the means of avoiding judgment. "

"That is well spoken, sir, " said the count, "very well, my son!"

And he held out his hand to Noel, who pressed it, bowing a respectfulacknowledgment. The advocate took a long breath. At last he had foundthe way to this haughty noble's heart; he had conquered, he had pleasedhim. 

"Let us return to yourself, sir, " continued the count. "I yield to thereasons which you have suggested. All shall be done as you desire. Butdo not consider this a precedent. I never change my plans, even thoughthey are proved to be bad, and contrary to my interests. But at leastnothing prevents your remaining here from to-day, and taking your mealswith me. We will, first of all, see where you can be lodged, until youformally take possession of the apartments which are to be prepared foryou. "

Noel had the hardihood to again interrupt the old nobleman. 

"Sir, " said he, "when you bade me follow you here, I obeyed you, as wasmy duty. Now another and a sacred duty calls me away. Madame Gerdy isat this moment dying. Ought I to leave the deathbed of her who filled mymother's place?"

"Valerie!" murmured the count. He leaned upon the arm of his chair, hisface buried in his hands; in one moment the whole past rose up beforehim. 

"She has done me great harm, " he murmured, as if answering his thoughts. "She has ruined my whole life; but ought I to be implacable? She isdying from the accusation which is hanging over Albert our son. It wasI who was the cause of it all. Doubtless, in this last hour, a word fromme would be a great consolation to her. I will accompany you, sir. "

Noel started at this unexpected proposal. 

"O sir!" said he hastily, "spare yourself, pray, a heart-rending sight. Your going would be useless. Madame Gerdy exists probably still; buther mind is dead. Her brain was unable to resist so violent a shock. Theunfortunate woman would neither recognise nor understand you. "

"Go then alone, " sighed the count, "go, my son!"

The words "my son, " pronounced with a marked emphasis, sounded like anote of victory in Noel's ears. 

He bowed to take his leave. The count motioned him to wait. 

"In any case, " he said, "a place at table will be set for you here. Idine at half-past six precisely. I shall be glad to see you. "

He rang. His valet appeared. 

"Denis, " said he, "none of the orders I may give will affect thisgentleman. You will tell this to all the servants. This gentleman is athome here. "

The advocate took his leave; and the count felt great comfort in beingonce more alone. Since morning, events had followed one another withsuch bewildering rapidity that his thoughts could scarcely keep pacewith them. At last, he was able to reflect. 

"That, then, " said he to himself, "is my legitimate son. I am sure ofhis birth, at any rate. Besides I should be foolish to disown him, for Ifind him the exact picture of myself at thirty. He is a handsome fellow, Noel, very handsome. His features are decidedly in his favour. Heis intelligent and acute. He knows how to be humble without loweringhimself, and firm without arrogance. His unexpected good fortune doesnot turn his head. I augur well of a man who knows how to bear himselfin prosperity. He thinks well; he will carry his title proudly. And yetI feel no sympathy with him; it seems to me that I shall always regretmy poor Albert. I never knew how to appreciate him. Unhappy boy! Tocommit such a vile crime! He must have lost his reason. I do not likethe look of this one's eye. They say that he is perfect. He expresses, at least, the noblest and most appropriate sentiments. He is gentleand strong, magnanimous, generous, heroic. He is without malice, and isready to sacrifice himself to repay me for what I have done for him. He forgives Madame Gerdy; he loves Albert. It is enough to make onedistrust him. But all young men now-a-days are so. Ah! we live in ahappy age. Our children are born free from all human shortcomings. Theyhave neither the vices, the passions, nor the tempers of their fathers;and these precocious philosophers, models of sagacity and virtue, areincapable of committing the least folly. Alas! Albert, too, was perfect;and he has assassinated Claudine! What will this one do?--All the same, "he added, half-aloud, "I ought to have accompanied him to see Valerie!"

And, although the advocate had been gone at least a good ten minutes, M. De Commarin, not realising how the time had passed, hastened to thewindow, in the hope of seeing Noel in the court-yard, and calling himback. 

But Noel was already far away. On leaving the house, he took a cab andwas quickly driven to the Rue St. Lazare. 

On reaching his own door, he threw rather than gave five francs to thedriver, and ran rapidly up the four flights of stairs. 

"Who has called to see me?" he asked of the servant. 

"No one, sir. "

He seemed relieved from a great anxiety, and continued in a calmer tone, "And the doctor?"

"He came this morning, sir, " replied the girl, "while you were out; andhe did not seem at all hopeful. He came again just now, and is stillhere. "

"Very well. I will go and speak to him. If any one calls, show them intomy study, and let me know. "

On entering Madame Gerdy's chamber, Noel saw at a glance that no changefor the better had taken place during his absence. With fixed eyesand convulsed features, the sick woman lay extended upon her back. Sheseemed dead, save for the sudden starts, which shook her at intervals, and disarranged the bedclothes. 

Above her head was placed a little vessel, filled with ice water, whichfell drop by drop upon her forehead, covered with large bluish spots. The table and mantel-piece were covered with little pots, medicinebottles, and half-emptied glasses. At the foot of the bed, a piece ofrag stained with blood showed that the doctor had just had recourse toleeches. 

Near the fireplace, where was blazing a large fire, a nun of the orderof St. Vincent de Paul was kneeling, watching a saucepan. She was ayoung woman, with a face whiter than her cap. Her immovably placidfeatures, her mournful look, betokened the renunciation of the flesh, and the abdication of all independence of thought. 

Her heavy grey costume hung about her in large ungraceful folds. Everytime she moved, her long chaplet of beads of coloured box-wood, loadedwith crosses and copper medals, shook and trailed along the floor with anoise like a jingling of chains. 

Dr. Herve was seated on a chair opposite the bed, watching, apparentlywith close attention, the nun's preparations. He jumped up as Noelentered. 

"At last you are here, " he said, giving his friend a strong grasp of thehand. 

"I was detained at the Palais, " said the advocate, as if he felt thenecessity of explaining his absence; "and I have been, as you may wellimagine, dreadfully anxious. "

He leant towards the doctor's ear, and in a trembling voice asked:"Well, is she at all better?"

The doctor shook his head with an air of deep discouragement. 

"She is much worse, " he replied: "since morning bad symptoms havesucceeded each other with frightful rapidity. "

He checked himself. The advocate had seized his arm and was pressing itwith all his might. Madame Gerdy stirred a little, and a feeble groanescaped her. 

"She heard you, " murmured Noel. 

"I wish it were so, " said the doctor; "It would be most encouraging. But I fear you are mistaken. However, we will see. " He went up to MadameGerdy, and, whilst feeling her pulse, examined her carefully; then, withthe tip of his finger, he lightly raised her eyelid. 

The eye appeared dull, glassy, lifeless. 

"Come, judge for yourself; take her hand, speak to her. "

Noel, trembling all over, did as his friend wished. He drew near, and, leaning over the bed, so that his mouth almost touched the sick woman'sear, he murmured: "Mother, it is I, Noel, your own Noel. Speak to me, make some sign, do you hear me, mother?"

It was in vain; she retained her frightful immobility. Not a sign ofintelligence crossed her features. 

"You see, " said the doctor, "I told you the truth. "

"Poor woman!" sighed Noel, "does she suffer?"

"Not at present. "

The nun now rose; and she too came beside the bed. 

"Doctor, " said she: "all is ready. "

"Then call the servant, sister, to help us. We are going to apply amustard poultice. "

The servant hastened in. In the arms of the two women, Madame Gerdy waslike a corpse, whom they were dressing for the last time. She was asrigid as though she were dead. She must have suffered much and long, poor woman, for it was pitiable to see how thin she was. The nunherself was affected, although she had become habituated to the sight ofsuffering. How many invalids had breathed their last in her arms duringthe fifteen years that she had gone from pillow to pillow!

Noel, during this time, had retired into the window recess, and pressedhis burning brow against the panes. 

Of what was he thinking, while she who had given him so many proofs ofmaternal tenderness and devotion was dying a few paces from him? Didhe regret her? was he not thinking rather of the grand and magnificentexistence which awaited him on the other side of the river, at theFaubourg St. Germain? He turned abruptly round on hearing his friend'svoice. 

"It is done, " said the doctor; "we have only now to wait the effectof the mustard. If she feels it, it will be a good sign; if it has noeffect, we will try cupping. "

"And if that does not succeed?"

The doctor answered only with a shrug of the shoulders, which showed hisinability to do more. 

"I understand your silence, Herve, " murmured Noel. "Alas! you told melast night she was lost. "

"Scientifically, yes; but I do not yet despair. It is hardly a year agothat the father-in-law of one of our comrades recovered from an almostidentical attack; and I saw him when he was much worse than this;suppuration had set in. "

"It breaks my heart to see her in this state, " resumed Noel. "Must shedie without recovering her reason even for one moment? Will she notrecognise me, speak one word to me?"

"Who knows? This disease, my poor friend, baffles all foresight. Eachmoment, the aspect may change, according as the inflammation affectssuch or such a part of the brain. She is now in a state of utterinsensibility, of complete prostration of all her intellectualfaculties, of coma, of paralysis so to say; to-morrow, she may be seizedwith convulsions, accompanied with a fierce delirium. "

"And will she speak then?"

"Certainly; but that will neither modify the nature nor the gravity ofthe disease. "

"And will she recover her reason?"

"Perhaps, " answered the doctor, looking fixedly at his friend; "but whydo you ask that?"

"Ah, my dear Herve, one word from Madame Gerdy, only one, would be ofsuch use to me!"

"For your affair, eh! Well, I can tell you nothing, can promise younothing. You have as many chances in your favour as against you;only, do not leave her. If her intelligence returns, it will be onlymomentary, try and profit by it. But I must go, " added the doctor; "Ihave still three calls to make. "

Noel followed his friend. When they reached the landing, he asked: "Youwill return?"

"This evening, at nine. There will be no need of me till then. Alldepends upon the watcher. But I have chosen a pearl. I know her well. "

"It was you, then, who brought this nun?"

"Yes, and without your permission. Are you displeased?"

"Not the least in the world. Only I confess--"

"What! you make a grimace. Do your political opinions forbid your havingyour mother, I should say Madame Gerdy, nursed by a nun of St. Vincent?"

"My dear Herve, you--"

"Ah! I know what you are going to say. They are adroit, insinuating, dangerous, all that is quite true. If I had a rich old uncle whose heirI expected to be, I shouldn't introduce one of them into his house. These good creatures are sometimes charged with strange commissions. But, what have you to fear from this one? Never mind what fools say. Money aside, these worthy sisters are the best nurses in the world. I hope you will have one when your end comes. But good-bye; I am in ahurry. "

And, regardless of his professional dignity, the doctor hurried downthe stairs; while Noel, full of thought, his countenance displaying thegreatest anxiety, returned to Madame Gerdy. 

At the door of the sick-room, the nun awaited the advocate's return. 

"Sir, " said she, "sir. "

"You want something of me, sister?"

"Sir, the servant bade me come to you for money; she has no more, andhad to get credit at the chemist's. "

"Excuse me, sister, " interrupted Noel, seemingly very much vexed;"excuse me for not having anticipated your request; but you see I amrather confused. "

And, taking a hundred-franc note out of his pocket-book, he laid it onthe mantel piece. 

"Thanks, sir, " said the nun; "I will keep an account of what I spend. Wealways do that, " she added; "it is more convenient for the family. Oneis so troubled at seeing those one loves laid low by illness. You haveperhaps not thought of giving this poor lady the sweet aid of ourholy religion! In your place, sir, I should send without delay for apriest, --"

"What, now, sister? Do you not see the condition she is in? She is thesame as dead; you saw that she did not hear my voice. "

"That is of little consequence, sir, " replied the nun; "you will alwayshave done your duty. She did not answer you; but are you sure that shewill not answer the priest? Ah, you do not know all the power of thelast sacraments! I have seen the dying recover their intelligence andsufficient strength to confess, and to receive the sacred body of ourLord Jesus Christ. I have often heard families say that they do not wishto alarm the invalid, that the sight of the minister of our Lord mightinspire a terror that would hasten the final end. It is a fatal error. The priest does not terrify; he reassures the soul, at the beginning ofits long journey. He speaks in the name of the God of mercy, who comesto save, not to destroy. I could cite to you many cases of dying peoplewho have been cured simply by contact with the sacred balm. "

The nun spoke in a tone as mournful as her look. Her heart was evidentlynot in the words which she uttered. Without doubt, she had learned themwhen she first entered the convent. Then they expressed somethingshe really felt, she spoke her own thoughts; but, since then, she hadrepeated the words over and over again to the friends of every sickperson that she attended, until they lost all meaning so far as she wasconcerned. To utter them became simply a part of her duties as nurse, the same as the preparation of draughts, and the making of poultices. 

Noel was not listening to her; his thoughts were far away. 

"Your dear mother, " continued the nun, "this good lady that you loveso much, no doubt trusted in her religion. Do you wish to endanger hersalvation? If she could speak in the midst of her cruel sufferings--"

The advocate was on the point of replying, when the servant announcedthat a gentleman, who would not give his name, wished to speak with himon business. 

"I will come, " he said quickly. 

"What do you decide, sir?" persisted the nun. 

"I leave you free, sister, to do as you may judge best. "

The worthy woman began to recite her lesson of thanks, but to nopurpose. Noel had disappeared with a displeased look; and almostimmediately she heard his voice in the next room, saying: "At last youhave come, M. Clergeot, I had almost given you up!"

The visitor, whom the advocate had been expecting, is a person wellknown in the Rue St. Lazare, round about the Rue de Provence, theneighbourhood of Notre Dame de Lorette, and all along the exteriorBoulevards, from the Chaussee des Martyrs to the Rond-Point of the oldBarriere de Clichy. 

M. Clergeot is no more a usurer than M. Jourdin's father was ashopkeeper. Only, as he has lots of money, and is very obliging, helends it to his friends; and, in return for this kindness, he consentsto receive interest, which varies from fifteen to five hundred per cent. 

The excellent man positively loves his clients, and his honesty isgenerally appreciated. He has never been known to seize a debtor'sgoods; he prefers to follow him up without respite for ten years, andtear from him bit by bit what is his due. 

He lives near the top of the Rue de la Victoire. He has no shop, and yethe sells everything saleable, and some other things, too, that the lawscarcely considers merchandise. Anything to be useful or neighbourly. He often asserts that he is not very rich. It is possibly true. He iswhimsical more than covetous, and fearfully bold. Free with his moneywhen one pleases him, he would not lend five francs, even with amortgage on the Chateau of Ferrieres as guarantee, to whosoever doesnot meet with his approval. However, he often risks his all on the mostunlucky cards. 

His preferred customers consist of women of doubtful morality, actresses, artists, and those venturesome fellows who enter uponprofessions which depend solely upon those who practice them, such aslawyers and doctors. 

He lends to women upon their present beauty, to men upon their futuretalent. Slight pledges! His discernment, it should be said, however, enjoys a great reputation. It is rarely at fault. A pretty girlfurnished by Clergeot is sure to go far. For an artist to be inClergeot's debt was a recommendation preferable to the warmestcriticism. 

Madame Juliette had procured this useful and honourable acquaintance forher lover. 

Noel, who well knew how sensitive this worthy man was to kindattentions, and how pleased by politeness, began by offering him a seat, and asking after his health. Clergeot went into details. His teeth werestill good; but his sight was beginning to fail. His legs were nolonger so steady, and his hearing was not all that could be desired. Thechapter of complaints ended--"You know, " said he, "why I have called. Your bills fall due to-day; and I am devilishly in need of money. I haveone of ten, one of seven, and a third of five thousand francs, total, twenty-two thousand francs. "

"Come, M. Clergeot, " replied Noel, "do not let us have any joking. "

"Excuse me, " said the usurer; "I am not joking at all. "

"I rather think you are though. Why, it's just eight days ago to-daythat I wrote to tell you that I was not prepared to meet the bills, andasked for a renewal!"

"I recollect very well receiving your letter. "

"What do you say to it, then?"

"By my not answering the note, I supposed that you would understandthat I could not comply with your request; I hoped that you would exertyourself to find the amount for me. "

Noel allowed a gesture of impatience to escape him. 

"I have not done so, " he said; "so take your own course. I haven't asou. "

"The devil. Do you know that I have renewed these bills four timesalready?"

"I know that the interest has been fully and promptly paid, and at arate which cannot make you regret the investment. "

Clergeot never likes talking about the interest he received. He pretendsthat it is humiliating. 

"I do not complain; I only say that you take things too easily with me. If I had put your signature in circulation all would have been paid bynow. "

"Not at all. "

"Yes, you would have found means to escape being sued. But you say toyourself: 'Old Clergeot is a good fellow. ' And that is true. But I amso only when it can do me no harm. Now, to-day, I am absolutely ingreat need of my money. Ab--so--lute--ly, " he added, emphasising eachsyllable. 

The old fellow's decided tone seemed to disturb the advocate. 

"Must I repeat it?" he said; "I am completely drained, com--plete--ly!"

"Indeed?" said the usurer; "well, I am sorry for you; but I shall haveto sue you. "

"And what good will that do? Let us play above board, M. Clergeot. Doyou care to increase the lawyers' fees? You don't do you? Even though, you may put me to great expense, will that procure you even a centime?You will obtain judgment against me. Well, what then? Do you think ofputting in an execution? This is not my home; the lease is in MadameGerdy's name. "

"I know all that. Besides, the sale of everything here would not coverthe amount. "

"Then you intend to put me in prison, at Clichy! Bad speculation, I warnyou, my practice will be lost, and, you know, no practice, no money. "

"Good!" cried the worthy money-lender. "Now you are talking nonsense!You call that being frank. Pshaw! If you supposed me capable of halfthe cruel things you have said, my money would be there in your drawer, ready for me. "

"A mistake! I should not know where to get it, unless by asking MadameGerdy, a thing I would never do. "

A sarcastic and most irritating little laugh, peculiar to old Clergeot, interrupted Noel. 

"It would be no good doing that, " said the usurer; "mamma's purse haslong been empty; and if the dear creature should die now, --they tellme she is very ill, --I would not give two hundred napoleons for theinheritance. "

The advocate turned red with passion, his eyes glittered; but hedissembled, and protested with some spirit. 

"We know what we know, " continued Clergeot quietly. "Before a man riskshis money, he takes care to make some inquiries. Mamma's remaining bondswere sold last October. Ah! the Rue de Provence is an expensive place!I have made an estimate, which is at home. Juliette is a charming woman, to be sure; she has not her equal, I am convinced; but she is expensive, devilish expensive. "

Noel was enraged at hearing his Juliette thus spoke of by thishonourable personage. But what reply could he make? Besides, none ofus are perfect; and M. Clergeot possessed the fault of not properlyappreciating women, which doubtless arises from the businesstransactions he has had with them. He is charming in his businesswith the fair sex, complimenting and flattering them; but the coarsestinsults would be less revolting than his disgusting familiarity. 

"You have gone too fast, " he continued, without deigning to notice hisclient's ill looks; "and I have told you so before. But, you would notlisten; you are mad about the girl. You can never refuse her anything. Fool! When a pretty girl wants anything, you should let her long for itfor a while; she has then something to occupy her mind and keep her fromthinking of a quantity of other follies. Four good strong wishes, wellmanaged, ought to last a year. You don't know how to look after your owninterests. I know that her glance would turn the head of a stone saint;but you should reason with yourself, hang it! Why, there are not tengirls in Paris who live in such style! And do you think she loves youany the more for it? Not a bit. When she has ruined you, she'll leaveyou in the lurch. "

Noel accepted the eloquence of his prudent banker like a man without anumbrella accepts a shower. 

"What is the meaning of all this!" he asked. 

"Simply that I will not renew your bills. You understand? Just now, ifyou try very hard, you will be able to hand me the twenty-two thousandfrancs in question. You need not frown: you will find means to do so toprevent my seizing your goods, --not here, for that would be absurd, butat your little woman's apartments. She would not be at all pleased, andwould not hesitate to tell you so. "

"But everything there belongs to her; and you have no right--"

"What of that? She will oppose the seizure, no doubt, and I expect herto do so; but she will make you find the requisite sum. Believe me, youhad best parry the blow. I insist on being paid now. I won't give youany further delay; because, in three months' time, you will have usedyour last resources. It is no use saying 'No, ' like that. You are in oneof those conditions that must be continued at any price. You would burnthe wood from your dying mother's bed to warm this creature's feet. Where did you obtain the ten thousand francs that you left with her theother evening? Who knows what you will next attempt to procure money?The idea of keeping her fifteen days, three days, a single day more, maylead you far. Open your eyes. I know the game well. If you do not leaveJuliette, you are lost. Listen to a little good advice, gratis. You mustgive her up, sooner or later, mustn't you? Do it to-day, then. "

As you see, our worthy Clergeot never minces the truth to his customers, when they do not keep their engagements. If they are displeased, so muchthe worse for them! His conscience is at rest. He would never join inany foolish business. 

Noel could bear it no longer: and his anger burst forth. 

"Enough, " he cried decidedly. "Do as you please, M. Clergeot, but havedone with your advice. I prefer the lawyer's plain prose. If I havecommitted follies, I can repair them, and in a way that would surpriseyou. Yes, M. Clergeot, I can procure twenty-two thousand francs; I couldhave a hundred thousand to-morrow morning, if I saw fit. They wouldonly cost me the trouble of asking for them. But that I will not do. My extravagance, with all due deference to you, will remain a secret asheretofore. I do not choose that my present embarrassed circumstancesshould be even suspected. I will not relinquish, for your sake, that atwhich I have been aiming, the very day it is within my grasp. "

"He resists, " thought the usurer; "he is less deeply involved than Iimagined. "

"So, " continued the advocate, "put your bills in the hands of yourlawyer. Let him sue me. In eight days, I shall be summoned to appearbefore the Tribunal de Commerce, and I shall ask for the twenty-fivedays' delay, which the judges always grant to an embarrassed debtor. Twenty-five and eight, all the world over, make just thirty-three days. That is precisely the respite I need. You have two alternatives: eitheraccept from me at once a new bill for twenty-four thousand francspayable in six weeks, or else, as I have an appointment, go off to yourlawyer. "

"And in six weeks, " replied the usurer, "you will be in precisely thesame condition you are to-day. And forty-five days more of Juliette willcost--"

"M. Clergeot, " interrupted Noel, "long before that time, my positionwill be completely changed. But I have finished, " he added rising; "andmy time is valuable. "

"One moment, you impatient fellow!" exclaimed the good-natured banker, "you said twenty-four thousand francs at forty-five days?"

"Yes. That is about seventy-five per cent, --pretty fair interest. "

"I never cavil about interest, " said M. Clergeot; "only--" He lookedslyly at Noel scratching his chin violently, a movement which in himindicated how insensibly his brain was at work. "Only, " he continued, "Ishould very much like to know what you are counting upon. "

"That I will not tell you. You will know it ere long, in common with allthe world. "

"I have it!" cried M. Clergeot, "I have it! You are going to marry! Youhave found an heiress, of course, your little Juliette told me somethingof the sort this morning. Ah! you are going to marry! Is she pretty? Butno matter. She has a full purse, eh? You wouldn't take her without that. So you are going to start a home of your own?"

"I did not say so. "

"That's right. Be discreet. But I can take a hint. One word more. Bewareof the storm; your little woman has a suspicion of the truth. You areright; it wouldn't do to be seeking money now. The slightest inquirywould be sufficient to enlighten your father-in-law as to your financialposition, and you would lose the damsel. Marry and settle down. But getrid of Juliette, or I won't give five francs for the fortune. So it issettled: prepare a new bill for twenty-four thousand francs, and I willcall for it when I bring you the old ones on Monday. "

"You haven't them with you, then?"

"No. And to be frank, I confess that, knowing well I should get nothingfrom you, I left them with others at my lawyer's. However, you may resteasy: you have my word. "

M. Clergeot made a pretence of retiring; but just as he was going out, he returned quickly. 

"I had almost forgotten, " said he; "while you are about it, you can makethe bill for twenty-six thousand francs. Your little woman ordered somedresses, which I shall deliver to-morrow; in this way they will be paidfor. "

The advocate began to remonstrate. He certainly did not refuse to pay, only he thought he ought to be consulted when any purchases were made. He didn't like this way of disposing of his money. 

"What a fellow!" said the usurer, shrugging his shoulders; "do you wantto make the girl unhappy for nothing at all? She won't let you off yet, my friend. You may be quite sure she will eat up your new fortune also. And you know, if you need any money for the wedding, you have but togive me some guarantee. Procure me an introduction to the notary, andeverything shall be arranged. But I must go. On Monday then. "

Noel listened, to make sure that the usurer had actually gone. When heheard him descending the staircase, "Scoundrel!" he cried, "miserablethieving old skinflint! Didn't he need a lot of persuading? He had quitemade up his mind to sue me. It would have been a pleasant thing hadthe count come to hear of it. Vile usurer! I was afraid, one moment, ofbeing obliged to tell him all. "

While inveighing thus against the money-lender, the advocate looked athis watch. 

"Half-past five already, " he said. 

His indecision was great. Ought he to go and dine with his father? Couldhe leave Madame Gerdy? He longed to dine at the de Commarin mansion;yet, on the other hand, to leave a dying woman!

"Decidedly, " he murmured, "I can't go. "

He sat down at his desk, and with all haste wrote a letter of apologyto his father. Madame Gerdy, he said, might die at any moment; he mustremain with her. As he bade the servant give the note to a messenger, tocarry it to the count, a sudden thought seemed to strike him. 

"Does madame's brother, " he asked, "know that she is dangerously ill?"

"I do not know, sir, " replied the servant, "at any rate, I have notinformed him. "

"What, did you not think to send him word? Run to his house quickly. Have him sought for, if he is not at home; he must come. "

Considerably more at ease, Noel went and sat in the sick-room. The lampwas lighted; and the nun was moving about the room as though quite athome, dusting and arranging everything, and putting it in its place. Shewore an air of satisfaction, that Noel did not fail to notice. 

"Have we any gleam of hope, sister?" he asked. 

"Perhaps, " replied the nun. "The priest has been here, sir; your dearmother did not notice his presence; but he is coming back. That is notall. Since the priest was here, the poultice has taken admirably. Theskin is quite reddened. I am sure she feels it. "

"God grant that she does, sister!"

"Oh, I have already been praying! But it is important not to leave heralone a minute. I have arranged all with the servant. After the doctorhas been, I shall lie down, and she will watch until one in the morning. I will then take her place and--"

"You shall both go to bed, sister, " interrupted Noel, sadly. "It is I, who could not sleep a wink, who will watch through this night. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

Old Tabaret did not consider himself defeated, because he had beenrepulsed by the investigating magistrate, already irritated by a longday's examination. You may call it a fault, or an accomplishment; butthe old man was more obstinate than a mule. To the excess of despair towhich he succumbed in the passage outside the magistrate's office, theresoon succeeded that firm resolution which is the enthusiasm called forthby danger. The feeling of duty got the upper hand. Was it a time toyield to unworthy despair, when the life of a fellow-man depended oneach minute? Inaction would be unpardonable. He had plunged an innocentman into the abyss; and he must draw him out, he alone, if no one wouldhelp him. Old Tabaret, as well as the magistrate, was greatly fatigued. On reaching the open air, he perceived that he, too, was in want offood. The emotions of the day had prevented him from feeling hungry;and, since the previous evening, he had not even taken a glass of water. He entered a restaurant on the Boulevard, and ordered dinner. 

While eating, not only his courage, but also his confidence cameinsensibly back to him. It was with him, as with the rest of mankind;who knows how much one's ideas may change, from the beginning to theend of a repast, be it ever so modest! A philosopher has plainlydemonstrated that heroism is but an affair of the stomach. 

The old fellow looked at the situation in a much less sombre light. Hehad plenty of time before him! A clever man could accomplish a greatdeal in a month! Would his usual penetration fail him now? Certainlynot. His great regret was, his inability to let Albert know that someone was working for him. 

He was entirely another man, as he rose from the table; and it was witha sprightly step that he walked towards the Rue St. Lazare. Nine o'clockstruck as the concierge opened the door for him. He went at once up tothe fourth floor to inquire after the health of his former friend, herwhom he used to call the excellent, the worthy Madame Gerdy. 

It was Noel who let him in, Noel, who had doubtless been thinking ofthe past, for he looked as sad as though the dying woman was really hismother. 

In consequence of this unexpected circumstance, old Tabaret could notavoid going in for a few minutes, though he would much have preferrednot doing so. He knew very well, that, being with the advocate, he wouldbe unavoidably led to speak of the Lerouge case; and how could he dothis, knowing, as he did, the particulars much better than his youngfriend himself, without betraying his secret? A single imprudent wordmight reveal the part he was playing in this sad drama. It was, aboveall others, from his dear Noel, now Viscount de Commarin, that he wishedentirely to conceal his connection with the police. 

But, on the other hand, he thirsted to know what had passed between theadvocate and the count. His ignorance on this single point aroused hiscuriosity. However, as he could not withdraw he resolved to keep closewatch upon his language and remain constantly on his guard. 

The advocate ushered the old man into Madame Gerdy's room. Hercondition, since the afternoon, had changed a little; though it wasimpossible to say whether for the better or the worse. One thing wasevident, her prostration was not so great. Her eyes still remainedclosed; but a slight quivering of the lids was evident. She constantlymoved on her pillow, and moaned feebly. 

"What does the doctor say?" asked old Tabaret, in that low voice oneunconsciously employs in a sick room. 

"He has just gone, " replied Noel; "before long all will be over. "

The old man advanced on tip-toe, and looked at the dying woman withevident emotion. 

"Poor creature!" he murmured; "God is merciful in taking her. Sheperhaps suffers much; but what is this pain compared to what she wouldfeel if she knew that her son, her true son, was in prison, accused ofmurder?"

"That is what I keep thinking, " said Noel, "to console myself for thissight. For I still love her, my old friend; I shall always regard heras a mother. You have heard me curse her, have you not? I have twicetreated her very harshly. I thought I hated her; but now, at the momentof losing her, I forget every wrong she has done me, only to rememberher tenderness. Yes, for her, death is far preferable! And yet I do notthink, no, I cannot think her son guilty. "

"No! what, you too?"

Old Tabaret put so much warmth and vivacity into this exclamation, thatNoel looked at him with astonishment. He felt his face grow red, and hehastened to explain himself. "I said, 'you too, '" he continued, "becauseI, thanks perhaps to my inexperience, am persuaded also of this youngman's innocence. I cannot in the least imagine a man of his rankmeditating and accomplishing so cowardly a crime. I have spoken withmany persons on this matter which has made so much noise; and everybodyis of my opinion. He has public opinion in his favor; that is alreadysomething. "

Seated near the bed, sufficiently far from the lamp to be in the shade, the nun hastily knitted stockings destined for the poor. It was a purelymechanical work, during which she usually prayed. But, since old Tabaretentered the room, she forgot her everlasting prayers whilst listeningto the conversation. What did it all mean? Who could this woman be? Andthis young man who was not her son, and who yet called her mother, and at the same time spoke of a true son accused of being an assassin?Before this she had overheard mysterious remarks pass between Noel andthe doctor. Into what strange house had she entered? She was a littleafraid; and her conscience was sorely troubled. Was she not sinning? Sheresolved to tell all to the priest, when he returned. 

"No, " said Noel, "no, M. Tabaret; Albert has not public opinion for him. We are sharper than that in France, as you know. When a poor devil isarrested, entirely innocent, perhaps, of the crime charged against him, we are always ready to throw stones at him. We keep all our pity forhim, who, without doubt guilty, appears before the court of assize. Aslong as the justice hesitates, we side with the prosecution against theprisoner. The moment it is proved that the man is a villain, all oursympathies are in his favour. That is public opinion. You understand, however, that it affects me but little. I despise it to such an extent, that if, as I dare still hope, Albert is not released, I will defendhim. Yes, I have told the Count de Commarin, my father, as much. I willbe his counsel, and I will save him. "

Gladly would the old man have thrown himself on Noel's neck. He longedto say to him: "We will save him together. " But he restrained himself. Would not the advocate despise him, if he told him his secret! Heresolved, however, to reveal all should it become necessary, or shouldAlbert's position become worse. For the time being, he contented himselfwith strongly approving his young friend. 

"Bravo! my boy, " said he; "you have a noble heart. I feared to see youspoiled by wealth and rank; pardon me. You will remain, I see, what youhave always been in your more humble position. But, tell me, you have, then, seen your father, the count?"

Now, for the first time, Noel seemed to notice the nun's eyes, which, lighted by eager curiosity, glittered in the shadow like carbuncles. With a look, he drew the old man's attention to her, and said: "I haveseen him; and everything is arranged to my satisfaction. I will tell youall, in detail, by-and-by, when we are more at ease. By this bedside, Iam almost ashamed of my happiness. "

M. Tabaret was obliged to content himself with this reply and thispromise. Seeing that he would learn nothing that evening, he spokeof going to bed, declaring himself tired out by what he had had to doduring the day. Noel did not ask him to stop. He was expecting, he said, Madame Gerdy's brother, who had been sent for several times, but whowas not at home. He hardly knew how he could again meet this brother, he added: he did not yet know what conduct he ought to pursue. Shouldhe tell him all? It would only increase his grief. On the other hand, silence would oblige him to play a difficult part. The old man advisedhim to say nothing; he could explain all later on. 

"What a fine fellow Noel is!" murmured old Tabaret, as he regainedhis apartments as quietly as possible. He had been absent from hometwenty-four hours; and he fully expected a formidable scene with hishousekeeper. Mannette was decidedly out of temper, and declared oncefor all, that she would certainly seek a new place if her master did notchange his conduct. 

She had remained up all night, in a terrible fright, listening to theleast sound on the stairs, expecting every moment to see her masterbrought home on a litter, assassinated. There had been great commotionin the house. M. Gerdy had gone down a short time after her master, andshe had seen him return two hours later. After that, they had sent forthe doctor. Such goings on would be the death of her, without countingthat her constitution was too weak to allow her to sit up so late. ButMannette forgot that she did not sit up on her master's account nor onNoel's but was expecting one of her old friends, one of those handsomeGardes de Paris who had promised to marry her, and for whom she hadwaited in vain, the rascal!

She burst forth in reproaches, while she prepared her master's bed, too sincere, she declared, to keep anything on her mind, or to keep hermouth closed, when it was a question of his health and reputation. M. Tabaret made no reply, not being in the mood for argument. He bent hishead to the storm, and turned his back to the hail. But, as soon asMannette had finished what she was about, he put her out of the room, and double locked the door. 

He busied himself in forming a new line of battle, and in deciding uponprompt and active measures. He rapidly examined the situation. Hadhe been deceived in his investigations? No. Were his calculations ofprobabilities erroneous? No. He had started with a positive fact, themurder. He had discovered the particulars; his inferences were correct, and the criminal was evidently such as he had described him. The man M. Daburon had had arrested could not be the criminal. His confidence in ajudicial axiom had led him astray, when he pointed to Albert. 

"That, " thought he, "is the result of following accepted opinions andthose absurd phrases, all ready to hand, which are like mile-stonesalong a fool's road! Left free to my own inspirations, I should haveexamined this case more thoroughly, I would have left nothing to chance. The formula, 'Seek out the one whom the crime benefits' may often beas absurd as true. The heirs of a man assassinated are in reality allbenefited by the murder; while the assassin obtains at most the victim'swatch and purse. Three persons were interested in Widow Lerouge'sdeath:--Albert, Madame Gerdy, and the Count de Commarin. It is plain tome that Albert is not the criminal. It is not Madame Gerdy, who is dyingfrom the shock caused by the unexpected announcement of the crime. Thereremains, then, the Count. Can it be he? If so, he certainly did not doit himself. He must have hired some wretch, a wretch of good position, if you please, wearing patent leather boots of a good make, and smokingtrabucos cigars with an amber mouth-piece. These well-dressedvillains ordinarily lack nerve. They cheat, they forge; but they don'tassassinate. Supposing, though, that the count did get hold of somedare-devil fellow. He would simply have replaced one accomplice byanother still more dangerous. That would be idiotic, and the count is asensible man. He, therefore, had nothing whatever to do with the matter. To be quite sure though, I will make some inquiries about him. Anotherthing, Widow Lerouge, who so readily exchanged the children whilenursing them, would be very likely to undertake a number of otherdangerous commissions. Who can say that she has not obliged otherpersons who had an equal interest in getting rid of her? There is asecret, I am getting at it, but I do not hold it yet. One thing iscertain though, she was not assassinated to prevent Noel recovering hisrights. She must have been suppressed for some analogous reason, by abold and experienced scoundrel, prompted by similar motives to thoseof which I suspected Albert. It is, then, in that direction that I mustfollow up the case now. And, above all, I must obtain the past historyof this obliging widow, and I will have it too, for in all probabilitythe particulars which have been written for from her birthplace willarrive tomorrow. "

Returning to Albert, old Tabaret weighed the charges which were broughtagainst the young man, and reckoned the chances which he still had infavour of his release. 

"From the look of things, " he murmured, "I see only luck and myself, that is to say absolutely nothing, in his favor at present. As to thecharges, they are countless. However, it is no use going over them. It is I who amassed them; and I know what they are worth! At onceeverything and nothing. What do signs prove, however striking they maybe, in cases where one ought to disbelieve even the evidence of one'sown senses? Albert is a victim of the most remarkable coincidences; butone word might explain them. There have been many such cases. It waseven worse in the matter of the little tailor. At five o'clock, hebought a knife, which he showed to ten of his friends, saying, 'This isfor my wife, who is an idle jade, and plays me false with my workmen. 'In the evening, the neighbours heard a terrible quarrel between thecouple, cries, threats, stampings, blows; then suddenly all was quiet. The next day, the tailor had disappeared from his home, and the wife wasdiscovered dead, with the very same knife buried to the hilt between hershoulders. Ah, well! it turned out it was not the husband who had stuckit there; it was a jealous lover. After that, what is to be believed?Albert, it is true, will not give an account of how he passed Tuesdayevening. That does not affect me. The question for me is not to provewhere he was, but that he was not at La Jonchere. Perhaps, after all, Gevrol is on the right track. I hope so, from the bottom of myheart. Yes; God grant that he may be successful. My vanity and my madpresumption will deserve the slight punishment of his triumph over me. What would I not give to establish this man's innocence? Half of myfortune would be but a small sacrifice. If I should not succeed! If, after having caused the evil, I should find myself powerless to undoit!"

Old Tabaret went to bed, shuddering at this last thought. He fellasleep, and had a terrible nightmare. Lost in that vulgar crowd, which, on the days when society revenges itself, presses about the Place de laRouquette and watches the last convulsions of one condemned to death, he attended Albert's execution. He saw the unhappy man, his hands boundbehind his back, his collar turned down, ascend, supported by a priest, the steep flight of steps leading on to the scaffold. He saw himstanding upon the fatal platform, turning his proud gaze upon theterrified assembly beneath him. Soon the eyes of the condemned man methis own; and, bursting his cords, he pointed him, Tabaret, out to thecrowd, crying, in a loud voice: "That man is my assassin. " Then a greatclamour arose to curse the detective. He wished to escape; but his feetseemed fixed to the ground. He tried at least to close his eyes; hecould not. A power unknown and irresistible compelled him to look. Then Albert again cried out: "I am innocent; the guilty one is----" Hepronounced a name; the crowd repeated this name, and he alone did notcatch what it was. At last the head of the condemned man fell. 

M. Tabaret uttered a loud cry, and awoke in a cold perspiration. It tookhim some time to convince himself that nothing was real of what he hadjust heard and seen, and that he was actually in his own house, inhis own bed. It was only a dream! But dreams sometimes are, they say, warnings from heaven. His imagination was so struck with what had justhappened that he made unheard of efforts to recall the name pronouncedby Albert. Not succeeding, he got up and lighted his candle. Thedarkness made him afraid, the night was full of phantoms. It was nolonger with him a question of sleep. Beset with these anxieties, heaccused himself most severely, and harshly reproached himself for theoccupation he had until then so delighted in. Poor humanity!

He was evidently stark mad the day when he first had the idea of seekingemployment in the Rue de Jerusalem. A noble hobby, truly, for a man ofhis age, a good quiet citizen of Paris, rich, and esteemed by all! Andto think that he had been proud of his exploits, that he had boasted ofhis cunning, that he had plumed himself on his keenness of scent, thathe had been flattered by that ridiculous sobriquet, "Tirauclair. " Oldfool! What could he hope to gain from that bloodhound calling? All sortsof annoyance, the contempt of the world, without counting the danger ofcontributing to the conviction of an innocent man. Why had he not takenwarning by the little tailor's case. 

Recalling his few satisfactions of the past, and comparing them with hispresent anguish, he resolved that he would have no more to do with it. Albert once saved, he would seek some less dangerous amusement, and onemore generally appreciated. He would break the connection of which hewas ashamed, and the police and justice might get on the best they couldwithout him. 

At last the day, which he had awaited with feverish impatience, dawned. To pass the time, he dressed himself slowly, with much care, trying tooccupy his mind with needless details, and to deceive himself as to thetime by looking constantly at the clock, to see if it had not stopped. In spite of all this delay, it was not eight o'clock when he presentedhimself at the magistrate's house, begging him to excuse, on account ofthe importance of his business, a visit too early not to be indiscreet. 

Excuses were superfluous. M. Daburon was never disturbed by a call ateight o'clock in the morning. He was already at work. He received theold amateur detective with his usual kindness, and even joked with hima little about his excitement of the previous evening. Who would havethought his nerves were so sensitive? Doubtless the night had broughtdeliberation. Had he recovered his reason? or had he put his hand on thetrue criminal?

This trifling tone in a magistrate, who was accused of being graveeven to a fault, troubled the old man. Did not this quizzing hide adetermination not to be influenced by anything that he could say?He believed it did; and it was without the least deception that hecommenced his pleading. 

He put the case more calmly this time, but with all the energy of awell-digested conviction. He had appealed to the heart, he now appealedto reason; but, although doubt is essentially contagious, he neithersucceeded in convincing the magistrate, nor in shaking his opinion. Hisstrongest arguments were of no more avail against M. Daburon's absoluteconviction than bullets made of bread crumbs would be against abreastplate. And there was nothing very surprising in that. 

Old Tabaret had on his side only a subtle theory, mere words; M. Daburonpossessed palpable testimony, facts. And such was the peculiarity ofthe case, that all the reasons brought forward by the old man to justifyAlbert simply reacted against him, and confirmed his guilt. 

A repulse at the magistrate's hands had entered too much into M. Tabaret's anticipations for him to appear troubled or discouraged. Hedeclared that, for the present, he would insist no more; he had fullconfidence in the magistrate's wisdom and impartiality. All he wishedwas to put him on his guard against the presumptions which he himselfunfortunately had taken such pains to inspire. 

He was going, he added, to busy himself with obtaining more information. They were only at the beginning of the investigation; and they werestill ignorant of very many things, even of Widow Lerouge's past life. More facts might come to light. Who knew what testimony the man with theearrings, who was being pursued by Gevrol, might give? Though in a greatrage internally, and longing to insult and chastise he whom he inwardlystyled a "fool of a magistrate, " old Tabaret forced himself to be humbleand polite. He wished, he said, to keep well posted up in the differentphases of the investigation, and to be informed of the result of futureinterrogations. He ended by asking permission to communicate withAlbert, He thought his services deserved this slight favour. He desiredan interview of only ten minutes without witnesses. 

M. Daburon refused this request. He declared, that, for the present, theprisoner must continue to remain strictly in solitary confinement. By way of consolation, he added that, in three or four days, he mightperhaps be able to reconsider this decision, as the motives whichprompted it would then no longer exist. 

"Your refusal is cruel, sir, " said M. Tabaret; "but I understand it, andsubmit. "

That was his only complaint: and he withdrew almost immediately, fearingthat he could no longer master his indignation. He felt that, besidesthe great happiness of saving an innocent man, compromised by hisimprudence, he would experience unspeakable delight in avenging himselffor the magistrate's obstinacy. 

"Three or four days, " he muttered, "that is the same as three or fouryears to the unfortunate prisoner. He takes things quite at his ease, this charming magistrate. But I must find out the real truth of the casebetween now and then. "

Yes, M. Daburon only required three or four days to wring a confessionfrom Albert, or at least to make him abandon his system of defence. 

The difficulty of the prosecution was not being able to produce anywitness who had seen the prisoner during the evening of Shrove Tuesday. 

One deposition alone to that effect would have such great weight, thatM. Daburon, as soon as Tabaret had left him, turned all his attentionin that direction. He could still hope for a great deal. It was onlySaturday, the day of the murder was remarkable enough to fix people'smemories, and up till then there had not been time to start a properinvestigation. 

He arranged for five of the most experienced detectives in the secretservice to be sent to Bougival, supplied with photographs of theprisoner. They were to scour the entire country between Rueil andLa Jonchere, to inquire everywhere, and make the most minuteinvestigations. The photographs would greatly aid their efforts. Theyhad orders to show them everywhere and to everybody and even to leave adozen about the neighbourhood, as they were furnished with a sufficientnumber to do so. It was impossible, that, on an evening when so manypeople were about, no one had noticed the original of the portraiteither at the railway station at Rueil or upon one of the roads whichlead to La Jonchere, the high road, and the path by the river. 

These arrangements made, the investigating magistrate proceeded to thePalais de Justice, and sent for Albert. He had already in the morningreceived a report, informing him hour by hour of the acts, gestures, andutterances of the prisoner, who had been carefully watched. Nothing inhim, the report said, betrayed the criminal. He seemed very sad, but notdespairing. He had not cried out, nor threatened, nor cursed justice, nor even spoken of a fatal error. After eating lightly, he had gone tothe window of his cell, and had there remained standing for more than anhour. Then he laid down, and had quietly gone to sleep. 

"What an iron constitution!" thought M. Daburon, when the prisonerentered his office. 

Albert was no longer the despairing man who, the night before, bewildered with the multiplicity of charges, surprised by the rapiditywith which they were brought against him, had writhed beneath themagistrate's gaze, and appeared ready to succumb. Innocent or guilty, he had made up his mind how to act; his face left no doubt of that. Hiseyes expressed that cold resolution of a sacrifice freely made, anda certain haughtiness which might be taken for disdain, but whichexpressed the noble resentment of an injured man. In him could beseen the self-reliant man, who might be shaken but never overcome bymisfortune. 

On beholding him, the magistrate understood that he would have tochange his mode of attack. He recognized one of those natures which areprovoked to resistance when assailed, and strengthened when menaced. He therefore gave up his former tactics, and attempted to move him bykindness. It was a hackneyed trick, but almost always successful, likecertain pathetic scenes at theatres. The criminal who has girt up hisenergy to sustain the shock of intimidation, finds himself withoutdefence against the wheedling of kindness, the greater in proportion toits lack of sincerity. Now M. Daburon excelled in producing affectingscenes. What confessions he had obtained with a few tears! No one knewso well as he how to touch those old chords which vibrate still even inthe most corrupt hearts: honour, love, and family ties. 

With Albert, he became kind and friendly, and full of the liveliestcompassion. Unfortunate man! how greatly he must suffer, he whose wholelife had been like one long enchantment. How at a single blow everythingabout him had fallen in ruins. Who could have foreseen all this atthe time when he was the one hope of a wealthy and illustrious house!Recalling the past, the magistrate pictured to him the most touchingreminiscences of his early youth, and stirred up the ashes of allhis extinct affections. Taking advantage of all that he knew of theprisoner's life, he tortured him by the most mournful allusions toClaire. Why did he persist in bearing alone his great misfortune? Had heno one in the world who would deem it happiness to share his sufferings?Why this morose silence? Should he not rather hasten to reassure herwhose very life depended upon his? What was necessary for that? A singleword. Then he would be, if not free, at least returned to the world. Hisprison would become a habitable abode, no more solitary confinement; hisfriends would visit him, he might receive whomsoever he wished to see. 

It was no longer the magistrate who spoke; it was a father, who, nomatter what happens, always keeps in the recesses of his heart, thegreatest indulgence for his child. 

M. Daburon did even more. For a moment he imagined himself in Albert'sposition. What would he have done after the terrible revelation? Hescarcely dared ask himself. He understood the motive which prompted themurder of Widow Lerouge; he could explain it to himself; he could almostexcuse it. (Another trap. ) It was certainly a great crime, but in no wayrevolting to conscience or to reason. It was one of those crimes whichsociety might, if not forget, at least forgive up to a certain point, because the motive was not a shameful one. What tribunal would failto find extenuating circumstances for a moment of frenzy so excusable. Besides was not the Count de Commarin the more guilty of the two? Was itnot his folly that prepared the way for this terrible event? His son wasthe victim of fatality, and was in the highest degree to be pitied. 

M. Daburon spoke for a long time upon this text, seeking those thingsmost suitable in his opinion to soften the hardened heart of anassassin. And he arrived always at the same conclusion, --the wisdomof confessing. But he wasted his eloquence precisely as M. Tabaret hadwasted his. Albert appeared in no way affected. His answers were of theshortest. He began and ended as on the first occasion, by protesting hisinnocence. 

One test, which has often given the desired result, still remained to betried. 

On this same day, Saturday, Albert was confronted with the corpse ofWidow Lerouge. He appeared impressed by the sad sight, but no more thananyone would be, if forced to look at the victim of an assassinationfour days after the crime. One of the bystanders having exclaimed: "Ah, if she could but speak!" he replied: "That would be very fortunate forme. "

Since morning, M. Daburon had not gained the least advantage. He had hadto acknowledge the failure of his manoeuvres; and now this last attempthad not succeeded either. The prisoner's continued calmness filled tooverflowing the exasperation of this man so sure of his guilt. His spitewas evident to all, when, suddenly ceasing his wheedling, he harshlygave the order to re-conduct the prisoner to his cell. 

"I will compel him to confess!" he muttered between his teeth. 

Perhaps he regretted those gentle instruments of investigation of themiddle ages, which compelled the prisoner to say whatever one wished tohear. Never, thought he, did any one ever meet a culprit like this. Whatcould he reasonably hope for from his system of persistent denial? Thisobstinacy, absurd in the presence of such absolute proofs, drove themagistrate into a rage. Had Albert confessed his guilt, he would havefound M. Daburon disposed to pity him; but as he denied it, he opposedhimself to an implacable enemy. 

It was the very falseness of the situation which misled and blinded thismagistrate, naturally so kind and generous. Having previously wishedAlbert innocent, he now absolutely longed to prove him guilty, and thatfor a hundred reasons which he was unable to analyze. He remembered, too well, his having had the Viscount de Commarin for a rival, and hishaving nearly assassinated him. Had he not repented even to remorse hishaving signed the warrant of arrest, and his having accepted the duty ofinvestigating the case. Old Tabaret's incomprehensible change of opiniontroubled him, too. 

All these feelings combined, inspired M. Daburon with a feverish hatred, and urged him on in the path which he had chosen. It was now less theproofs of Albert's guilt which he sought for than the justification ofhis own conduct as magistrate. The investigation became embittered likea personal matter. 

In fact, were the prisoner innocent, he would become inexcusable in hisown eyes; and, in proportion as he reproached himself the more severely, and as the knowledge of his own failings grew, he felt the more disposedto try everything to conquer his former rival, even to abusing his ownpower. The logic of events urged him on. It seemed as though his honouritself was at stake; and he displayed a passionate activity, such as hehad never before been known to show in any investigation. 

M. Daburon passed all Sunday in listening to the reports of thedetectives he had sent to Bougival. 

They had spared no trouble, they stated, but they could report nothingnew. 

They had heard many people speak of a woman, who pretended, they said, to have seen the assassin leave Widow Lerouge's cottage; but no onehad been able to point this woman out to them, or even to give them hername. 

They all thought it their duty, however, to inform the magistrate thatanother inquiry was going on at the same time as theirs. It was directedby M. Tabaret, who personally scoured the country round about in acabriolet drawn by a very swift horse. He must have acted with greatpromptness; for, no matter where they went, he had been there beforethem. He appeared to have under his orders a dozen men, four of whom atleast certainly belonged to the Rue de Jerusalem. All the detectives hadmet him; and he had spoken to them. To one, he had said: "What the deuceare you showing this photograph for? In less than no time you will havea crowd of witnesses, who, to earn three francs, will describe some onemore like the portrait than the portrait itself. "

He had met another on the high-road, and had laughed at him. 

"You are a simple fellow, " he cried out, "to hunt for a hiding man onthe high-way; look a little aside, and you may find him. "

Again he had accosted two who were together in a cafe at Bougival, andhad taken them aside. 

"I have him, " he said to them. "He is a smart fellow; he came byChatois. Three people have seen him--two railway porters and a thirdperson whose testimony will be decisive, for she spoke to him. He wassmoking. "

M. Daburon became so angry with old Tabaret, that he immediately startedfor Bougival, firmly resolved to bring the too zealous man back toParis, and to report his conduct in the proper quarter. The journey, however, was useless. M. Tabaret, the cabriolet, the swift horse, andthe twelve men had all disappeared, or at least were not to be found. 

On returning home, greatly fatigued, and very much out of temper, theinvestigating magistrate found the following telegram from the chief ofthe detective force awaiting him; it was brief, but to the point:

"ROUEN, Sunday. 

"The man is found. This evening we start for Paris. The most valuabletestimony. GEVROL. "

CHAPTER XV. 

On the Monday morning, at nine o'clock, M. Daburon was preparing tostart for the Palais de Justice, where he expected to find Gevrol andhis man, and perhaps old Tabaret. His preparations were nearly made, when his servant announced that a young lady, accompanied by anotherconsiderably older, asked to speak with him. She declined givingher name, saying, however, that she would not refuse it, if it wasabsolutely necessary in order to be received. 

"Show them in, " said the magistrate. 

He thought it must be a relation of one or other of the prisoners, whosecase he had had in hand when this fresh crime occurred. He determined tosend her away quickly. He was standing before the fireplace, seekingfor an address in a small china plate filled with visiting cards. Atthe sound of the opening of the door, at the rustling of a silk dressgliding by the window, he did not take the trouble to move, nor deigneven to turn his head. He contented himself with merely casting acareless glance into the mirror. 

But he immediately started with a movement of dismay, as if he had seena ghost. In his confusion, he dropped the card-plate, which fell noisilyon to the hearth, and broke into a thousand pieces. 

"Claire!" he stammered, "Claire!"

And as if he feared equally either being deceived by an illusion oractually seeing her whose name he had uttered, he turned slowly round. 

It was truly Mademoiselle d'Arlange. This young girl, usually so proudand reserved, had had the courage to come to his house alone, or almostso, for her governess, whom she had left in the ante-room, could hardlycount. She was evidently obeying some powerful emotion, since it madeher forget her habitual timidity. 

Never, even in the time when a sight of her was his greatest happiness, had she appeared to him more fascinating. Her beauty, ordinarilyveiled by a sweet sadness, was bright and shining. Her features had ananimation which he had never seen in them before. In her eyes, renderedmore brilliant by recent tears but partly wiped away, shone the noblestresolution. One could see that she was conscious of performing a greatduty, and that she performed it, if not with pleasure, at least withthat simplicity which in itself is heroism. 

She advanced calm and dignified, and held out her hand to the magistratein that English style that some ladies can render so gracefully. 

"We are always friends, are we not?" asked she, with a sad smile. 

The magistrate did not dare take the ungloved hand she held out to him. He scarcely touched it with the tips of his fingers, as though he fearedtoo great an emotion. 

"Yes, " he replied indistinctly, "I am always devoted to you. "

Mademoiselle d'Arlange sat down in the large armchair, where, two nightspreviously, old Tabaret had planned Albert's arrest. M. Daburon remainedstanding leaning against his writing-table. 

"You know why I have come?" asked the young girl. 

With a nod, he replied in the affirmative. 

He divined her object only too easily; and he was asking himself whetherhe would be able to resist prayers from such a mouth. What was she aboutto ask of him? What could he refuse her? Ah, if he had but foreseenthis? He had not yet got over his surprise. 

"I only knew of this dreadful event yesterday, " pursued Claire; "mygrandmother considered it best to hide it from me, and, but for mydevoted Schmidt, I should still be ignorant of it all. What a night Ihave passed! At first I was terrified; but, when they told me that alldepended upon you, my fears were dispelled. It is for my sake, is itnot, that you have undertaken this investigation? Oh, you are good, Iknow it! How can I ever express my gratitude?"

What humiliation for the worthy magistrate were these heartfelt thanks!Yes, he had at first thought of Mademoiselle d'Arlange, but since--Hebowed his head to avoid Claire's glance, so pure and so daring. 

"Do not thank me, mademoiselle, " he stammered, "I have not the claimthat you think upon your gratitude. "

Claire had been too troubled herself, at first, to notice themagistrate's agitation. The trembling of his voice attracted herattention; but she did not suspect the cause. She thought that herpresence recalled sad memories, that he doubtless still loved her, and that he suffered. This idea saddened her, and filled her withself-reproach. 

"And yet, sir, " she continued, "I thank you all the same. I might neverhave dared go to another magistrate, to speak to a stranger! Besides, what value would another attach to my words, not knowing me? While you, so generous, will re-assure me, will tell me by what awful mistake hehas been arrested like a villain and thrown into prison. "

"Alas!" sighed the magistrate, so low that Claire scarcely heard him, and did not understand the terrible meaning of the exclamation. 

"With you, " she continued, "I am not afraid. You are my friend, you toldme so; you will not refuse my prayers. Give him his liberty quickly. Ido not know exactly of what he is accused, but I swear to you that he isinnocent. "

Claire spoke in the positive manner of one who saw no obstacle in theway of the very simple and natural desire which she had expressed. Aformal assurance given by her ought to be amply sufficient; with aword, M. Daburon would repair everything. The magistrate was silent. Headmired that saint-like ignorance of everything, that artless and frankconfidence which doubted nothing. She had commenced by wounding him, unconsciously, it is true, but he had quite forgotten that. 

He was really an upright man, as good as the best, as is proved fromthe fact that he trembled at the moment of unveiling the fatal truth. Hehesitated to pronounce the words which, like a whirlwind, would overturnthe fragile edifice of this young girl's happiness. He who had been sohumiliated, so despised, he was going to have his revenge; and yethe did not experience the least feeling of a shameful, though easilyunderstood, satisfaction. 

"And if I should tell you, mademoiselle, " he commenced, "that M. Albertis not innocent?"

She half-raised herself with a protesting gesture. 

He continued, "If I should tell you that he is guilty?"

"Oh, sir!" interrupted Claire, "you cannot think so!"

"I do think so, mademoiselle, " exclaimed the magistrate in a sad voice, "and I must add that I am morally certain of it. "

Claire looked at the investigating magistrate with profound amazement. Could it be really he who was speaking thus. Had she heard him aright?Did she understand? She was far from sure. Had he answered seriously?Was he not deluding her by a cruel unworthy jest? She asked herself thisscarcely knowing what she did: for to her everything appeared possible, probable, rather than that which he had said. 

Not daring to raise his eyes, he continued in a tone, expressive of thesincerest pity, "I suffer cruelly for you at this moment, mademoiselle;but I have the sad courage to tell you the truth, and you must summonyours to hear it. It is far better that you should know everything fromthe mouth of a friend. Summon, then, all your fortitude; strengthen yournoble soul against a most dreadful misfortune. No, there is no mistake. Justice has not been deceived. The Viscount de Commarin is accused ofan assassination; and everything, you understand me, proves that hecommitted it. "

Like a doctor, who pours out drop by drop a dangerous medicine, M. Daburon pronounced this last sentence slowly, word by word. He watchedcarefully the result, ready to cease speaking, if the shock was toogreat. He did not suppose that this young girl, timid to excess, with asensitiveness almost a disease, would be able to hear without flinchingsuch a terrible revelation. He expected a burst of despair, tears, distressing cries. She might perhaps faint away; and he stood ready tocall in the worthy Schmidt. 

He was mistaken. Claire drew herself up full of energy and courage. Theflame of indignation flushed her cheeks, and dried her tears. 

"It is false, " she cried, "and those who say it are liars! He cannotbe--no, he cannot be an assassin. If he were here, sir, and shouldhimself say, 'It is true, ' I would refuse to believe it; I would stillcry out, 'It is false!'"

"He has not yet admitted it, " continued the magistrate, "but he willconfess. Even if he should not, there are more proofs than are needed toconvict him. The charges against him are as impossible to deny as is thesun which shines upon us. "

"Ah! well, " interrupted Mademoiselle d'Arlange, in a voice filledwith emotion, "I assert, I repeat, that justice is deceived. Yes, " shepersisted, in answer to the magistrate's gesture of denial, "yes, he isinnocent. I am sure of it; and I would proclaim it, even were the wholeworld to join with you in accusing him. Do you not see that I know himbetter even than he can know himself, that my faith in him is absolute, as is my faith in God, that I would doubt myself before doubting him?"

The investigating magistrate attempted timidly to make an objection;Claire quickly interrupted him. 

"Must I then, sir, " said she, "in order to convince you, forget that Iam a young girl, and that I am not talking to my mother, but to a man!For his sake I will do so. It is four years, sir, since we first lovedeach other. Since that time, I have not kept a single one of my thoughtsfrom him, nor has he hid one of his from me. For four years, there hasnever been a secret between us; he lived in me, as I lived in him. I alone can say how worthy he is to be loved; I alone know all thatgrandeur of soul, nobleness of thought, generosity of feelings, out ofwhich you have so easily made an assassin. And I have seen him, oh! sounhappy, while all the world envied his lot. He is, like me, alone inthe world; his father never loved him. Sustained one by the other, wehave passed through many unhappy days; and it is at the very moment ourtrials are ending that he has become a criminal? Why? tell me, why?"

"Neither the name nor the fortune of the Count de Commarin would descendto him, mademoiselle; and the knowledge of it came upon him with asudden shock. One old woman alone was able to prove this. To maintainhis position, he killed her. "

"What infamy, " cried the young girl, "what a shameful, wicked, calumny!I know, sir, that story of fallen greatness; he himself told me of it. It is true, that for three days this misfortune unmanned him; but, if hewas dismayed, it was on my account more than his own. He was distressedat thinking that perhaps I should be grieved, when he confessed to methat he could no longer give me all that his love dreamed of. I grieved?Ah! what to me are that great name, that immense wealth? I owe to themthe only unhappiness I have ever known. Was it, then, for such thingsthat I loved him? It was thus that I replied to him; and he, so sad, immediately recovered his gaiety. He thanked me, saying, 'You love me;the rest is of no consequence. ' I chided him, then, for having doubtedme; and after that, you pretend that he cowardly assassinated an oldwoman? You would not dare repeat it. "

Mademoiselle d'Arlange ceased speaking, a smile of victory on her lips. That smile meant, "At last I have attained my end: you are conquered;what can you reply to all that I have said?"

The investigating magistrate did not long leave this smiling illusion tothe unhappy child. He did not perceive how cruel and offensive was hispersistence. Always the same predominant idea! In persuading Claire, hewould justify his own conduct to himself. 

"You do not know, mademoiselle, " he resumed, "how a sudden calamity mayeffect a good man's reason. It is only at the time a thing escapes usthat we feel the greatness of the loss. God preserve me from doubtingall that you have said; but picture to yourself the immensity of theblow which struck M. De Commarin. Can you say that on leaving you he didnot give way to despair? Think of the extremities to which it mayhave led him. He may have been for a time bewildered, and have actedunconsciously. Perhaps this is the way the crime should be explained. "

Mademoiselle d'Arlange's face grew deathly pale, and betrayed the utmostterror. The magistrate thought that at last doubt had begun to effecther pure and noble belief. 

"He must, then, have been mad, " she murmured. 

"Possibly, " replied the magistrate; "and yet the circumstances of thecrime denote a well-laid plan. Believe me, then, mademoiselle, and donot be too confident. Pray, and wait patiently for the issue of thisterrible trial. Listen to my voice, it is that of a friend. You used tohave in me the confidence a daughter gives to her father, you told meso; do not, then, refuse my advice. Remain silent and wait. Hide yourgrief to all; you might hereafter regret having exposed it. Young, inexperienced, without a guide, without a mother, alas! you sadlymisplaced your first affections. "

"No, sir, no, " stammered Claire. "Ah!" she added, "you talk like therest of the world, that prudent and egotistical world, which I despiseand hate. "

"Poor child, " continued M. Daburon, pitiless even in his compassion, "unhappy young girl! This is your first deception! Nothing more terriblecould be imagined; few women would know how to bear it. But you areyoung; you are brave; your life will not be ruined. Hereafter you willfeel horrified at this crime. There is no wound, I know by experience, which time does not heal. "

Claire tried to grasp what the magistrate was saying, but his wordsreached her only as confused sounds, their meaning entirely escaped her. 

"I do not understand you, sir, " she said. "What advice, then, do yougive me?"

"The only advice that reason dictates, and that my affection for you cansuggest, mademoiselle. I speak to you as a kind and devoted brother. I say to you: 'Courage, Claire, resign yourself to the saddest, thegreatest sacrifice which honour can ask of a young girl. Weep, yes, weepfor your deceived love; but forget it. Pray heaven to help you do so. Hewhom you have loved is no longer worthy of you. '"

The magistrate stopped slightly frightened. Mademoiselle d'Arlange hadbecome livid. 

But though the body was weak, the soul still remained firm. 

"You said, just now, " she murmured, "that he could only have committedthis crime in a moment of distraction, in a fit of madness?"

"Yes, it is possible. "

"Then, sir, not knowing what he did, he can not be guilty. "

The investigating magistrate forgot a certain troublesome question whichhe put to himself one morning in bed after his illness. 

"Neither justice nor society, mademoiselle, " he replied, "can take thatinto account. God alone, who sees into the depths of our hearts, canjudge, can decide those questions which human justice must pass by. Inour eyes, M. De Commarin is a criminal. There may be certain extenuatingcircumstances to soften the punishment; but the moral effect will be thesame. Even if he were acquitted, and I wish he may be, but without hope, he will not be less unworthy. He will always carry the dishonour, thestain of blood cowardly shed. Therefore, forget him. "

Mademoiselle d'Arlange stopped the magistrate with a look in whichflashed the strongest resentment. 

"That is to say, " she exclaimed, "that you counsel me to abandon him inhis misfortune. All the world deserts him; and your prudence advises meto act with the world. Men behave thus, I have heard, when one of theirfriends is down; but women never do. Look about you; however humiliated, however wretched, however low, a man may be, you will always find awoman near to sustain and console him. When the last friend has boldlytaken to flight, when the last relation has abandoned him, womanremains. "

The magistrate regretted having been carried away perhaps a little toofar. Claire's excitement frightened him. He tried, but in vain, to stopher. 

"I may be timid, " she continued with increasing energy, "but I am nocoward. I chose Albert voluntarily from amongst all. Whatever happens, I will never desert him. No, I will never say, 'I do not know this man. 'He would have given me half of his prosperity, and of his glory. Iwill share, whether he wishes it or not, half of his shame and of hismisfortune. Between two, the burden will be less heavy to bear. Strike!I will cling so closely to him that no blow shall touch him withoutreaching me, too. You counsel me to forget him. Teach me, then, how to. I forget him? Could I, even if I wished? But I do not wish it. I lovehim. It is no more in my power to cease loving him than it is toarrest, by the sole effort of my will, the beating of my heart. He is aprisoner, accused of murder. So be it. I love him. He is guilty! Whatof that? I love him. You will condemn him, you will dishonour him. Condemned and dishonoured, I shall love him still. You will send himto a convict prison. I will follow him; and in the prison, under theconvict's dress, I will yet love him. If he falls to the bottom of theabyss, I will fall with him. My life is his, let him dispose of it. No, nothing will separate me from him, nothing short of death! And, if hemust mount the scaffold, I shall die, I know it, from the blow whichkills him. "

M. Daburon had buried his face in his hands. He did not wish Claire toperceive a trace of the emotion which affected him. 

"How she loves him!" he thought, "how she loves him!"

His mind was sunk in the darkest thoughts. All the stings of jealousywere rending him. What would not be his delight, if he were the objectof so irresistible a passion as that which burst forth before him! Whatwould he not give in return! He had, too, a young and ardent soul, aburning thirst for love. But who had ever thought of that? He had beenesteemed, respected, perhaps feared, but not loved; and he never wouldbe. Was he, then, unworthy of it? Why do so many men pass through lifedispossessed of love, while others, the vilest beings sometimes, seem topossess a mysterious power, which charms and seduces, and inspires thoseblind and impetuous feelings which to assert themselves rush to thesacrifice all the while longing for it? Have women, then, no reason, nodiscernment?

Mademoiselle d'Arlange's silence brought the magistrate back to thereality. He raised his eyes to her. Overcome by the violence of heremotion, she lay back in her chair, and breathed with such difficultythat M. Daburon feared she was about to faint. He moved quickly towardsthe bell, to summon aid; but Claire noticed the movement, and stoppedhim. 

"What would you do?" she asked. 

"You seemed suffering so, " he stammered, "that I----"

"It is nothing, sir, " replied she. "I may seem weak; but I am not so. Iam strong, believe me, very strong. It is true that I suffer, as I neverbelieved that one could suffer. It is cruel for a young girl to have todo violence to all her feelings. You ought to be satisfied, sir. I havetorn aside all veils; and you have read even the inmost recesses ofmy heart. But I do not regret it; it was for his sake. That which I doregret is my having lowered my self so far as to defend him; but he willforgive me that one doubt. Your assurance took me unawares. A manlike him does not need defence; his innocence must be proved; and, Godhelping me, I will prove it. "

As Claire was half-rising to depart, M. Daburon detained her by agesture. In his blindness, he thought he would be doing wrong to leavethis poor young girl in the slightest way deceived. Having gone so faras to begin, he persuaded himself that his duty bade him go on to theend. He said to himself, in all good faith, that he would thus preserveClaire from herself, and spare her in the future many bitter regrets. The surgeon who has commenced a painful operation does not leave ithalf-finished because the patient struggles, suffers, and cries out. 

"It is painful, Mademoiselle, --" he began. 

Claire did not let him finish. 

"Enough, sir, " said she; "all that you can say will be of no avail. Irespect your unhappy conviction. I ask, in return, the same regard formine. If you were truly my friend, I would ask you to aid me in the taskof saving him, to which I am about to devote myself. But, doubtless, youwould not do so. "

"If you knew the proofs which I possess, mademoiselle, " he said in acold tone, which expressed his determination not to give way to anger, "if I detailed them to you, you would no longer hope. "

"Speak, sir, " cried Claire imperiously. 

"You wish it, mademoiselle? Very well; I will give you in detail all theevidence we have collected. I am entirely yours, as you are aware. Butyet, why should I harass you with all these proofs? There is one whichalone is decisive. The murder was committed on the evening of ShroveTuesday; and the prisoner cannot give an account of what he did on thatevening. He went out, however, and only returned home about two o'clockin the morning, his clothes soiled and torn, and his gloves frayed. "

"Oh! enough, sir, enough!" interrupted Claire, whose eyes beamed oncemore with happiness. "You say it was on Shrove Tuesday evening?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. "

"Ah! I was sure, " she cried triumphantly. "I told you truly that hecould not be guilty. "

She clasped her hands, and, from the movement of her lips, it wasevident that she was praying. The expression of the most perfect faithrepresented by some of the Italian painters illuminated her beautifulface while she rendered thanks to God in the effusion of her gratitude. 

The magistrate was so disconcerted, that he forgot to admire her. Heawaited an explanation. 

"Well?" he asked impatiently. 

"Sir, " replied Claire, "if that is your strongest proof, it exists nolonger. Albert passed the entire evening you speak of with me. "

"With you?" stammered the magistrate. 

"Yes, with me, at my home. "

M. Daburon was astounded. Was he dreaming? He hardly knew. 

"What!" he exclaimed, "the viscount was at your house? Your grandmother, your companion, your servants, they all saw him and spoke to him?"

"No, sir; he came and left in secret. He wished no one to see him; hedesired to be alone with me. "

"Ah!" said the magistrate with a sigh of relief. The sigh signified:"It's all clear--only too evident. She is determined to save him, at therisk even of compromising her reputation. Poor girl! But has this ideaonly just occurred to her?"

The "Ah!" was interpreted very differently by Mademoiselle d'Arlange. She thought that M. Daburon was astonished at her consenting to receiveAlbert. 

"Your surprise is an insult, sir, " said she. 

"Mademoiselle!"

"A daughter of my family, sir, may receive her betrothed without dangerof anything occurring for which she would have to blush. "

She spoke thus, and at the same time was red with shame, grief, andanger. She began to hate M. Daburon. 

"I had no such insulting thought as you imagine, mademoiselle, " said themagistrate. "I was only wondering why M. De Commarin went secretly toyour house, when his approaching marriage gave him the right to presenthimself openly at all hours. I still wonder, how, on such a visit, hecould get his clothes in the condition in which we found them. "

"That is to say, sir, " replied Claire bitterly, "that you doubt myword!"

"The circumstances are such, mademoiselle, --"

"You accuse me, then, of falsehood, sir. Know that, were we criminals, we should not descend to justifying ourselves; we should never pray norask for pardon. "

Mademoiselle d'Arlange's haughty, contemptuous tone could only anger themagistrate. How harshly she treated him! And simply because he would notconsent to be her dupe. 

"Above all, mademoiselle, " he answered severely, "I am a magistrate; andI have a duty to perform. A crime has been committed. Everything pointsto M. Albert de Commarin as the guilty man. I arrest him; I examine him;and I find overwhelming proofs against him. You come and tell me thatthey are false; that is not enough. So long as you addressed me as afriend, you found me kind and gentle. Now it is the magistrate to whomyou speak: and it is the magistrate who answers, 'Prove it. '"

"My word, sir, --"

"Prove it!"

Mademoiselle d'Arlange rose slowly, casting upon the magistrate a lookfull of astonishment and suspicion. 

"Would you, then, be glad, sir, " she asked, "to find Albert guilty?Would it give you such great pleasure to have him convicted? Do you thenhate this prisoner, whose fate is in your hands? One would almost thinkso. Can you answer for your impartiality? Do not certain memories weighheavily in the scale? Are you sure that you are not, armed with the law, revenging yourself upon a rival?"

"This is too much, " murmured the magistrate, "this is too much!"

"Do you know the unusual, the dangerous position we are in at thismoment? One day, I remember, you declared your love for me. It appearedto me sincere and honest; it touched me. I was obliged to refuse you, because I loved another; and I pitied you. Now that other is accusedof murder, and you are his judge; and I find myself between you two, praying to you for him. In undertaking the investigation you acquired anopportunity to help him; and yet you seem to be against him. "

Every word Claire uttered fell upon M. Daburon's heart like a slap onhis face. Was it really she who was speaking? Whence came this suddenboldness, which made her choose all those words which found an echo inhis heart?

"Mademoiselle, " said he, "your grief has been too much for you. From youalone could I pardon what you have just said. Your ignorance of thingsmakes you unjust. If you think that Albert's fate depends upon mypleasure, you are mistaken. To convince me is nothing; it is necessaryto convince others. That I should believe you is all very natural, Iknow you. But what weight will others attach to your testimony, whenyou go to them with a true story--most true, I believe, but yet highlyimprobable?"

Tears came into Claire's eyes. 

"If I have unjustly offended you, sir, " said she, "pardon me; myunhappiness makes me forget myself. "

"You cannot offend me, mademoiselle, " replied the magistrate. "I havealready told you that I am devoted to your service. "

"Then sir, help me to prove the truth of what I have said. I will tellyou everything. "

M. Daburon was fully convinced that Claire was seeking to deceive him;but her confidence astonished him. He wondered what fable she was aboutto concoct. 

"Sir, " began Claire, "you know what obstacles have stood in the way ofmy marriage with Albert. The Count de Commarin would not accept me fora daughter-in-law, because I am poor, I possess nothing. It took Albertfive years to triumph over his father's objections. Twice the countyielded; twice he recalled his consent, which he said had been extortedfrom him. At last, about a month ago, he gave his consent of his ownaccord. But these hesitations, delays, refusals, had deeply hurt mygrandmother. You know her sensitive nature; and, in this case, I mustconfess she was right. Though the wedding day had been fixed, themarchioness declared that we should not be compromised nor laughed atagain for any apparent haste to contract a marriage so advantageous, that we had often before been accused of ambition. She decided, therefore, that, until the publication of the banns, Albert shouldonly be admitted into the house every other day, for two hours in theafternoon, and in her presence. We could not get her to alter thisdetermination. Such was the state of affairs, when, on Sunday morning, a note came to me from Albert. He told me that pressing business wouldprevent his coming, although it was his regular day. What could havehappened to keep him away? I feared some evil. The next day I awaitedhim impatiently and distracted, when his valet brought Schmidt anote for me. In that letter, sir, Albert entreated me to grant himan interview. It was necessary, he wrote, that he should have a longconversation with me, alone, and without delay. Our whole future, headded, depended upon this interview. He left me to fix the day and hour, urging me to confide in no one. I did not hesitate. I sent him word tomeet me on the Tuesday evening, at the little garden gate, which opensinto an unfrequented street. To inform me of his presence, he was toknock just as nine o'clock chimed at the Invalides. I knew that mygrandmother had invited a number of her friends for that evening; and Ithought that, by pretending a headache, I might retire early, and so befree. I expected, also, that Madame d'Arlange would keep Schmidt withher. "

"Excuse me, mademoiselle, " interrupted M. Daburon, "what day did youwrite to M. Albert?"

"On Tuesday. "

"Can you fix the hour?"

"I must have sent the letter between two and three o'clock. "

"Thanks, mademoiselle. Continue, I pray. "

"All my anticipations, " continued Claire, "were realised. I retiredduring the evening, and I went into the garden a little before theappointed time. I had procured the key of the little door; and I atonce tried it. Unfortunately, I could not make it turn, the lock was sorusty. I exerted all my strength in vain. I was in despair, when nineo'clock struck. At the third stroke, Albert knocked. I told him of theaccident; and I threw him the key, that he might try and unlock thedoor. He tried, but without success. I then begged him to postpone ourinterview. He replied that it was impossible, that what he had to sayadmitted of no delay; that, during three days he had hesitated aboutconfiding in me, and had suffered martyrdom, and that he could endure itno longer. We were speaking, you must understand, through the door. Atlast, he declared that he would climb over the wall. I begged him not todo so, fearing an accident. The wall is very high, as you know; the topis covered with pieces of broken glass, and the acacia branches stretchout above like a hedge. But he laughed at my fears, and said that, unless I absolutely forbade him to do so, he was going to attemptto scale the wall. I dared not say no; and he risked it. I was veryfrightened, and trembled like a leaf. Fortunately, he is very active, and got over without hurting himself. He had come, sir, to tell me ofthe misfortune which had befallen him. We first of all sat down upon thelittle seat you know of, in front of the grove; then, as the rain wasfalling, we took shelter in the summer house. It was past midnight whenAlbert left me, quieted and almost gay. He went back in the same manner, only with less danger, because I made him use the gardener's ladder, which I laid down alongside the wall when he had reached the otherside. "

This account, given in the simplest and most natural manner, puzzled M. Daburon. What was he to think?

"Mademoiselle, " he asked, "had the rain commenced to fall when M. Albertclimbed over the wall?"

"No, sir, the first drops fell when we were on the seat. I recollectit very well, because he opened his umbrella, and I thought of Paul andVirginia. "

"Excuse me a minute, mademoiselle, " said the magistrate. 

He sat down at his desk, and rapidly wrote two letters. In the first, hegave orders for Albert to be brought at once to his office in the Palaisde Justice. In the second, he directed a detective to go immediately tothe Faubourg St. Germain to the d'Arlange house, and examine the wallat the bottom of the garden, and make a note of any marks of its havingbeen scaled, if any such existed. He explained that the wall had beenclimbed twice, both before and during the rain; consequently the marksof the going and returning would be different from each other. 

He enjoined upon the detective to proceed with the utmost caution, andto invent a plausible pretext which would explain his investigations. 

Having finished writing, the magistrate rang for his servant, who soonappeared. 

"Here, " said he, "are two letters, which you must take to my clerk, Constant. Tell him to read them, and to have the orders they containexecuted at once, --at once, you understand. Run, take a cab, and bequick! Ah! one word. If Constant is not in my office, have him soughtfor; he will not be far off, as he is waiting for me. Go quickly!"

M. Daburon then turned and said to Claire: "Have you kept the letter, mademoiselle, in which M. Albert asked for this interview?"

"Yes, sir, I even think I have it with me. "

She arose, felt in her pocket, and drew out a much crumpled piece ofpaper. 

"Here it is!"

The investigating magistrate took it. A suspicion crossed his mind. Thiscompromising letter happened to be very conveniently in Claire's pocket;and yet young girls do not usually carry about with them requests forsecret interviews. At a glance, he read the ten lines of the note. 

"No date, " he murmured, "no stamp, nothing at all. "

Claire did not hear him; she was racking her brain to find other proofsof the interview. 

"Sir, " said she suddenly, "it often happens, that when we wish to be, and believe ourselves alone, we are nevertheless observed. Summon, Ibeseech you, all of my grandmother's servants, and inquire if any ofthem saw Albert that night. "

"Inquire of your servants! Can you dream of such a thing, mademoiselle?"

"What, sir? You fear that I shall be compromised. What of that, if he isonly freed?"

M. Daburon could not help admiring her. What sublime devotion in thisyoung girl, whether she spoke the truth or not! He could understand theviolence she had been doing to her feelings during the past hour, he whoknew her character so well. 

"That is not all, " she added; "the key which I threw to Albert, he didnot return it to me; he must have forgotten to do so. If it is found inhis possession, it will well prove that he was in the garden. "

"I will give orders respecting it, mademoiselle. "

"There is still another thing, " continued Claire; "while I am here, sendsome one to examine the wall. "

She seemed to think of everything. 

"That is already done, mademoiselle, " replied M. Daburon. "I will nothide from you that one of the letters which I have just sent off orderedan examination of your grandmother's wall, a secret examination, though, be assured. "

Claire rose joyfully, and for the second time held out her hand to themagistrate. 

"Oh, thanks!" she said, "a thousand thanks! Now I can well see that youare with me. But I have still another idea: Albert ought to have thenote I wrote on Tuesday. "

"No, mademoiselle, he burnt it. "

Claire drew back. She imagined she felt a touch of irony in themagistrate's reply. There was none, however. M. Daburon remembered theletter thrown into the fire by Albert on the Tuesday afternoon. It couldonly been the one Claire had sent him. It was to her, then, that thewords, "She cannot resist me, " applied. He understood, now, the actionand the remark. 

"Can you understand, mademoiselle, " he next asked, "how M. De Commarincould lead justice astray, and expose me to committing a most deplorableerror, when it would have been so easy to have told me all this?"

"It seems to me, sir, that an honourable man cannot confess that he hasobtained a secret interview from a lady, until he has full permissionfrom her to do so. He ought to risk his life sooner than the honour ofher who has trusted in him; but be assured Albert relied on me. "

There was nothing to reply to this; and the sentiments expressed byMademoiselle d'Arlange gave a meaning to one of Albert's replies in theexamination. 

"This is not all yet, mademoiselle, " continued the magistrate; "all thatyou have told me here, you must repeat in my office, at the Palais deJustice. My clerk will take down your testimony, and you must signit. This proceeding will be painful to you; but it is a necessaryformality. "

"Ah, sir, I will do so with pleasure. What can I refuse, when I knowthat he is in prison? I was determined to do everything. If he hadbeen tried at the assizes, I would have gone there. Yes, I would havepresented myself, and there before all I would have told the truth. Doubtless, " she added sadly, "I should have been greatly compromised. Ishould have been looked upon as a heroine of romance; but what matterspublic opinion, the blame or approval of the world, since I am sure ofhis love?"

She rose from her seat, readjusting her cloak and the strings of herbonnet. 

"Is it necessary, " she asked, "that I should await the return of thepolice agents who are examining the wall?"

"It is needless, mademoiselle. "

"Then, " she continued in a sweet voice, "I can only beseech you, " sheclasped her hands, "conjure you, " her eyes implored, "to let Albert outof prison. "

"He shall be liberated as soon as possible; I give you my word. "

"Oh, to-day, dear M. Daburon, to-day, I beg of you, now, at once! Sincehe is innocent, be kind, for you are our friend. Do you wish me to godown on my knees?"

The magistrate had only just time to extend his arms, and prevent her. 

He was choking with emotion, the unhappy man! Ah! how much he envied theprisoner's lot!

"That which you ask of me is impossible, mademoiselle, " said he inan almost inaudible voice, "impracticable, upon my honour. Ah! if itdepended upon me alone, I could not, even were he guilty, see you weep, and resist. "

Mademoiselle d'Arlange, hitherto so firm, could no longer restrain hersobs. 

"Miserable girl that I am!" she cried, "he is suffering, he is inprison; I am free, and yet I can do nothing for him! Great heaven!inspire me with accents to touch the hearts of men! At whose feet must Icast myself to obtain his pardon?"

She suddenly stopped, surprised at having uttered such a word. 

"Pardon!" she repeated fiercely; "he has no need of pardon. Why am Ionly a woman? Can I not find one man who will help me? Yes, " she saidafter a moment's reflection, "there is one man who owes himself toAlbert; since he it was who put him in this position, --the Count deCommarin. He is his father, and yet he has abandoned him. Ah, well! Iwill remind him that he still has a son. "

The magistrate rose to see her to the door; but she had alreadydisappeared, taking the kind-hearted Schmidt with her. 

M. Daburon, more dead than alive, sank back again in his chair. His eyesfilled with tears. 

"And that is what she is!" he murmured. "Ah! I made no vulgar choice! Ihad divined and understood all her good qualities. "

He had never loved her so much; and he felt that he would never beconsoled for not having won her love in return. But, in the midst of hismeditations, a sudden thought passed like a flash across his brain. 

Had Claire spoken the truth? Had she not been playing a part previouslyprepared? No, most decidedly no! But she might have been herselfdeceived, might have been the dupe of some skillful trick. 

In that case old Tabaret's prediction was now realised. 

Tabaret had said: "Look out for an indisputable _alibi_. "

How could he show the falsity of this one, planned in advance, affirmedby Claire, who was herself deceived?

How could he expose a plan, so well laid that the prisoner had beenable without danger to await certain results, with his arms folded, andwithout himself moving in the matter?

And yet, if Claire's story were true, and Albert innocent!

The magistrate struggled in the midst of inextricable difficulties, without a plan, without an idea. 

He arose. 

"Oh!" he said in a loud voice, as though encouraging himself, "at thePalais, all will be unravelled. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

M. Daburon had been surprised at Claire's visit. 

M. De Commarin was still more so, when his valet whispered to him thatMademoiselle d'Arlange desired a moment's conversation with him. 

M. Daburon had broken a handsome card-plate; M. De Commarin, who was atbreakfast, dropped his knife on his plate. 

Like the magistrate he exclaimed, "Claire!"

He hesitated to receive her, fearing a painful and disagreeable scene. She could only have, as he knew, a very slight affection for him, whohad for so long repulsed her with such obstinacy. What could she wantwith him? To inquire about Albert, of course. And what could he reply?

She would probably have some nervous attack or other; and he wouldbe thoroughly upset. However, he thought of how much she must havesuffered; and he pitied her. 

He felt that it would be cruel, as well as unworthy of him, to keep awayfrom her who was to have been his daughter-in-law, the Viscountess deCommarin. 

He sent a message, asking her to wait a few minutes in one of the littledrawing-rooms on the ground floor. 

He did not keep her waiting long, his appetite having been destroyed bythe mere announcement of her visit. He was fully prepared for anythingdisagreeable. 

As soon as he appeared, Claire saluted him with one of those graceful, yet highly dignified bows, which distinguished the Marchionessd'Arlange. 

"Sir--, " she began. 

"You come, do you not, my poor child, to obtain news of the unhappyboy?" asked M. De Commarin. 

He interrupted Claire, and went straight to the point, in order to getthe disagreeable business more quickly over. 

"No sir, " replied the young girl, "I come, on the contrary, to bring younews. Albert is innocent. "

The count looked at her most attentively, persuaded that grief hadaffected her reason; but in that case her madness was very quiet. 

"I never doubted it, " continued Claire; "but now I have the mostpositive proof. "

"Are you quite sure of what you are saying?" inquired the count, whoseeyes betrayed his doubt. 

Mademoiselle d'Arlange understood his thoughts; her interview with M. Daburon had given her experience. 

"I state nothing which is not of the utmost accuracy, " she replied, "and easily proved. I have just come from M. Daburon, the investigatingmagistrate, who is one of my grandmother's friends; and, after what Itold him, he is convinced that Albert is innocent. "

"He told you that, Claire!" exclaimed the count. "My child, are yousure, are you not mistaken?"

"No, sir. I told him something, of which every one was ignorant, andof which Albert, who is a gentleman, could not speak. I told him thatAlbert passed with me, in my grandmother's garden, all that evening onwhich the crime was committed. He had asked to see me--"

"But your word will not be sufficient. "

"There are proofs, and justice has them by this time. "

"Heavens! Is it really possible?" cried the count, who was besidehimself. 

"Ah, sir!" said Mademoiselle d'Arlange bitterly, "you are like themagistrate; you believed in the impossible. You are his father, andyou suspected him! You do not know him, then. You were abandoning him, without trying to defend him. Ah, I did not hesitate one moment!"

One is easily induced to believe true that which one is anxiouslylonging for. M. De Commarin was not difficult to convince. Withoutthinking, without discussion, he put faith in Claire's assertions. Heshared her convictions, without asking himself whether it were wise orprudent to do so. 

Yes, he had been overcome by the magistrate's certitude, he had toldhimself that what was most unlikely was true; and he had bowed his head. One word from a young girl had upset this conviction. Albert innocent!The thought descended upon his heart like heavenly dew. 

Claire appeared to him like a bearer of happiness and hope. 

During the last three days, he had discovered how great was hisaffection for Albert. He had loved him tenderly, for he had never beenable to discard him, in spite of his frightful suspicions as to hispaternity. 

For three days, the knowledge of the crime imputed to his unhappy son, the thought of the punishment which awaited him, had nearly killed thefather. And after all he was innocent!

No more shame, no more scandalous trial, no more stains upon theescutcheon; the name of Commarin would not be heard at the assizes. 

"But, then, mademoiselle, " asked the count, "are they going to releasehim?"

"Alas! sir, I demanded that they should at once set him at liberty. Itis just, is it not, since he is not guilty? But the magistrate repliedthat it was not possible; that he was not the master; that Albert's fatedepended on many others. It was then that I resolved to come to you foraid. "

"Can I then do something?"

"I at least hope so. I am only a poor girl, very ignorant; and I knowno one in the world. I do not know what can be done to get him releasedfrom prison. There ought, however, to be some means for obtainingjustice. Will you not try all that can be done, sir, you, who are hisfather?"

"Yes, " replied M. De Commarin quickly, "yes, and without losing aminute. "

Since Albert's arrest, the count had been plunged in a dull stupor. Inhis profound grief, seeing only ruin and disaster about him, he had donenothing to shake off this mental paralysis. Ordinarily very active, he now sat all day long without moving. He seemed to enjoy a conditionwhich prevented his feeling the immensity of his misfortune. Claire'svoice sounded in his ear like the resurrection trumpet. The frightfuldarkness was dispelled; he saw a glimmering in the horizon; he recoveredthe energy of his youth. 

"Let us go, " he said. 

Suddenly the radiance in his face changed to sadness, mixed with anger. 

"But where, " he asked. "At what door shall we knock with any hope ofsuccess? In the olden times, I would have sought the king. But to-day!Even the emperor himself cannot interfere with the law. He will tell meto await the decision of the tribunals, that he can do nothing. Wait!And Albert is counting the minutes in mortal agony! We shall certainlyhave justice; but to obtain it promptly is an art taught in schools thatI have not frequented. "

"Let us try, at least, sir, " persisted Claire. "Let us seek out judges, generals, ministers, any one. Only lead me to them. I will speak; andyou shall see if we do not succeed. "

The count took Claire's little hands between his own, and held them amoment pressing them with paternal tenderness. 

"Brave girl!" he cried, "you are a noble, courageous woman, Claire! Goodblood never fails. I did not know you. Yes, you shall be my daughter;and you shall be happy together, Albert and you. But we must not rushabout everywhere, like wild geese. We need some one to tell us whom weshould address, --some guide, lawyer, advocate. Ah!" he cried, "I haveit, --Noel!"

Claire raised her eyes to the count's in surprise. 

"He is my son, " replied M. De Commarin, evidently embarrassed, "myother son, Albert's brother. The best and worthiest of men, " he added, repeating quite appropriately a phrase already uttered by M. Daburon. "He is a advocate; he knows all about the Palais; he will tell us whatto do. "

Noel's name, thus thrown into the midst of this conversation so full ofhope, oppressed Claire's heart. 

The count perceived her affright. 

"Do not feel anxious, dear child, " he said. "Noel is good; and I willtell you more, he loves Albert. Do not shake your head so; Noel told mehimself, on this very spot, that he did not believe Albert guilty. Hedeclared that he intended doing everything to dispel the fatal mistake, and that he would be his advocate. "

These assertions did not seem to reassure the young girl. She thoughtto herself, "What then has this Noel done for Albert?" But she made noremark. 

"I will send for him, " continued M. De Commarin; "he is now withAlbert's mother, who brought him up, and who is now on her deathbed. "

"Albert's mother!"

"Yes, my child. Albert will explain to you what may perhaps seem to youan enigma. Now time presses. But I think--"

He stopped suddenly. He thought, that, instead of sending for Noel atMadame Gerdy's, he might go there himself. He would thus see Valerie!and he had longed to see her again so much!

It was one of those actions which the heart urges, but which one doesnot dare risk, because a thousand subtle reasons and interests areagainst it. 

One wishes, desires, and even longs for it; and yet one struggles, combats, and resists. But, if an opportunity occurs, one is only toohappy to seize it; then one has an excuse with which to silence one'sconscience. 

In thus yielding to the impulse of one's feelings, one can say: "It wasnot I who willed it, it was fate. "

"It will be quicker, perhaps, " observed the count, "to go to Noel. "

"Let us start then, sir. "

"I hardly know though, my child, " said the old gentleman, hesitating, "whether I may, whether I ought to take you with me. Propriety--"

"Ah, sir, propriety has nothing to do with it!" replied Claireimpetuously. "With you, and for his sake, I can go anywhere. Is it notindispensable that I should give some explanations? Only send word to mygrandmother by Schmidt, who will come back here and await my return. Iam ready, sir. "

"Very well, then, " said the count. 

Then, ringing the bell violently, he called to the servant, "Mycarriage. "

In descending the steps, he insisted upon Claire's taking his arm. The gallant and elegant politeness of the friend of the Count d'Artoisreappeared. 

"You have taken twenty years from my age, " he said; "it is but rightthat I should devote to you the youth you have restored to me. "

As soon as Claire had entered the carriage, he said to the footman: "RueSt. Lazare, quick!"

Whenever the count said "quick, " on entering his carriage, thepedestrians had to get out of the way. But the coachman was a skillfuldriver, and arrived without accident. 

Aided by the concierge's directions, the count and the young girl wenttowards Madame Gerdy's apartments. The count mounted slowly, holdingtightly to the balustrade, stopping at every landing to recover hisbreath. He was, then, about to see her again! His emotion pressed hisheart like a vice. 

"M. Noel Gerdy?" he asked of the servant. 

The advocate had just that moment gone out. She did not know where hehad gone; but he had said he should not be out more than half an hour. 

"We will wait for him, then, " said the count. 

He advanced; and the servant drew back to let them pass. Noel hadstrictly forbidden her to admit any visitors; but the Count de Commarinwas one of those whose appearance makes servants forget all theirorders. 

Three persons were in the room into which the servant introduced thecount and Mademoiselle d'Arlange. 

They were the parish priest, the doctor, and a tall man, an officerof the Legion of Honour, whose figure and bearing indicated the oldsoldier. 

They were conversing near the fireplace, and the arrival of strangersappeared to astonish them exceedingly. 

In bowing, in response to M. De Commarin's and Claire's salutations, they seemed to inquire their business: but this hesitation was brief, for the soldier almost immediately offered Mademoiselle d'Arlange achair. 

The count considered that his presence was inopportune; and he thoughtthat he was called upon to introduce himself, and explain his visit. 

"You will excuse me, gentlemen, " said he, "if I am indiscreet. I did notthink of being so when I asked to wait for Noel, whom I have the mostpressing need of seeing. I am the Count de Commarin. "

At this name, the old soldier let go the back of the chair which he wasstill holding and haughtily raised his head. An angry light flashed inhis eyes, and he made a threatening gesture. His lips moved, as if hewere about to speak; but he restrained himself, and retired, bowing hishead, to the window. 

Neither the count nor the two other men noticed his strange behaviour;but it did not escape Claire. 

While Mademoiselle d'Arlange sat down rather surprised, the count, muchembarrassed at his position, went up to the priest, and asked in a lowvoice, "What is, I pray, M. L'Abbe; Madame Gerdy's condition?"

The doctor, who had a sharp ear, heard the question, and approachedquickly. 

He was very pleased to have an opportunity to speak to a person ascelebrated as the Count de Commarin, and to become acquainted with him. 

"I fear, sir, " he said, "that she cannot live throughout the day. "

The count pressed his hand against his forehead, as though he had felt asudden pain there. He hesitated to inquire further. 

After a moment of chilling silence, he resolved to go on. 

"Does she recognise her friends?" he murmured. 

"No, sir. Since last evening, however, there has been a great change. She was very uneasy all last night: she had moments of fierce delirium. About an hour ago, we thought she was recovering her senses, and we sentfor M. L'Abbe. "

"Very needlessly, though, " put in the priest, "and it is a sadmisfortune. Her reason is quite gone. Poor woman! I have known her tenyears. I have been to see her nearly every week; I never knew a moreworthy person. "

"She must suffer dreadfully, " said the doctor. 

Almost at the same instant, and as if to bear out the doctor's words, they heard stifled cries from the next room, the door of which wasslightly open. 

"Do you hear?" exclaimed the count, trembling from head to foot. 

Claire understood nothing of this strange scene. Dark presentimentsoppressed her; she felt as though she were enveloped in an atmosphere ofevil. She grew frightened, rose from her chair, and drew near the count. 

"She is, I presume, in there?" asked M. De Commarin. 

"Yes, sir, " harshly answered the old soldier, who had also drawn near. 

At any other time, the count would have noticed the soldier's tone, and have resented it. Now, he did not even raise his eyes. He remainedinsensible to everything. Was she not there, close to him? His thoughtswere in the past; it seemed to him but yesterday that he had quitted herfor the last time. 

"I should very much like to see her, " he said timidly. 

"That is impossible. " replied the old soldier. 

"Why?" stammered the count. 

"At least, M. De Commarin, " replied the soldier, "let her die in peace. "

The count started, as if he had been struck. His eyes encountered theofficer's; he lowered them like a criminal before his judge. 

"Nothing need prevent the count's entering Madame Gerdy's room, " put inthe doctor, who purposely saw nothing of all this. "She would probablynot notice his presence; and if--"

"Oh, she would perceive nothing!" said the priest. "I have just spokento her, taken her hand, she remained quite insensible. "

The old soldier reflected deeply. 

"Enter, " said he at last to the count; "perhaps it is God's will. "

The count tottered so that the doctor offered to assist him. He gentlymotioned him away. 

The doctor and the priest entered with him; Claire and the old soldierremained at the threshold of the door, facing the bed. 

The count took three or four steps, and was obliged to stop. He wishedto, but could not go further. 

Could this dying woman really be Valerie?

He taxed his memory severely; nothing in those withered features, nothing in that distorted face, recalled the beautiful, the adoredValerie of his youth. He did not recognise her. 

But she knew him, or rather divined his presence. With supernaturalstrength, she raised herself, exposing her shoulders and emaciated arms;then pushing away the ice from her forehead, and throwing back her stillplentiful hair, bathed with water and perspiration, she cried, "Guy!Guy!"

The count trembled all over. 

He did not perceive that which immediately struck all the other personspresent--the transformation in the sick woman. Her contracted featuresrelaxed, a celestial joy spread over her face, and her eyes, sunken bydisease, assumed an expression of infinite tenderness. 

"Guy, " said she in a voice heartrending by its sweetness, "you have comeat last! How long, O my God! I have waited for you! You cannot thinkwhat I have suffered by your absence. I should have died of grief, hadit not been for the hope of seeing you again. Who kept you from me?Your parents again? How cruel of them! Did you not tell them that no onecould love you here below as I do? No, that is not it; I remember. Youwere angry when you left me. Your friends wished to separate us; theysaid that I was deceiving you with another. Who have I injured that Ishould have so many enemies! They envied my happiness; and we were sohappy! But you did not believe the wicked calumny, you scorned it, forare you not here?"

The nun, who had risen on seeing so many persons enter the sick room, opened her eyes with astonishment. 

"I deceive you?" continued the dying woman; "only a madman wouldbelieve it. Am I not yours, your very own, heart and soul? To me you areeverything: and there is nothing I could expect or hope for from anotherwhich you have not already given me. Was I not yours, alone, from thevery first? I never hesitated to give myself entirely to you; I feltthat I was born for you, Guy, do you remember? I was working for a lacemaker, and was barely earning a living. You told me you were a poorstudent; I thought you were depriving yourself for me. You insisted onhaving our little apartment on the Quai Saint-Michel done up. It waslovely, with the new paper all covered with flowers, which we hungourselves. How delightful it was! From the window, we could see thegreat trees of the Tuileries gardens; and by leaning out a little wecould see the sun set through the arches of the bridges. Oh, those happydays! The first time that we went into the country together, one Sunday, you brought me a more beautiful dress than I had ever dreamed of, andsuch darling little boots, that it was a shame to walk out in them! Butyou had deceived me! You were not a poor student. One day, when takingmy work home, I met you in an elegant carriage, with tall footmen, dressed in liveries covered with gold lace, behind. I could not believemy eyes. That evening you told me the truth, that you were a noblemanand immensely rich. O my darling, why did you tell me?"

Had she her reason, or was this a mere delirium?

Great tears rolled down the Count de Commarin's wrinkled face, and thedoctor and the priest were touched by the sad spectacle of an old manweeping like a child. 

Only the previous evening, the count had thought his heart dead; and nowthis penetrating voice was sufficient to regain the fresh and powerfulfeelings of his youth. Yet, how many years had passed away since then!

"After that, " continued Madame Gerdy, "we left the Quai Saint-Michel. You wished it; and I obeyed, in spite of my apprehensions. You told me, that, to please you, I ought to look like a great lady. You providedteachers for me, for I was so ignorant that I scarcely knew how to signmy name. Do you remember the queer spelling in my first letter? Ah, Guy, if you had really only been a poor student! When I knew that you were sorich, I lost my simplicity, my thoughtlessness, my gaiety. I feared thatyou would think me covetous, that you would imagine that your fortuneinfluenced my love. Men who, like you, have millions, must be unhappy!They must be always doubting and full of suspicions, they can never besure whether it is themselves or their gold which is loved, and thisawful doubt makes them mistrustful, jealous, and cruel. Oh my dearest, why did we leave our dear little room? There, we were happy. Why did younot leave me always where you first found me? Did you not know that thesight of happiness irritates mankind? If we had been wise, we would havehid ours like a crime. You thought to raise me, but you only sunk melower. You were proud of our love; you published it abroad. Vainly Iasked you in mercy to leave me in obscurity, and unknown. Soon the wholetown knew that I was your mistress. Every one was talking of the moneyyou spent on me. How I blushed at the flaunting luxury you thrust uponme! You were satisfied, because my beauty became celebrated; I wept, because my shame became so too. People talked about me, as those womenwho make their lovers commit the greatest follies. Was not my name inthe papers? And it was through the same papers that I heard of yourapproaching marriage. Unhappy woman! I should have fled from you, but Ihad not the courage. I resigned myself, without an effort, to the mosthumiliating, the most shameful of positions. You were married; and Iremained your mistress. Oh, what anguish I suffered during that terribleevening. I was alone in my own home, in that room so associated withyou; and you were marrying another! I said to myself, 'At this moment, a pure, noble young girl is giving herself to him. ' I said again, 'Whatoaths is that mouth, which has so often pressed my lips, now taking?'Often since that dreadful misfortune, I have asked heaven what crime Ihad committed that I should be so terribly punished? This was the crime. I remained your mistress, and your wife died. I only saw her once, andthen scarcely for a minute, but she looked at you, and I knew that sheloved you as only I could. Ah, Guy, it was our love that killed her!"

She stopped exhausted, but none of the bystanders moved. They listenedbreathlessly, and waited with feverish emotion for her to resume. 

Mademoiselle d'Arlange had not the strength to remain standing; she hadfallen upon her knees, and was pressing her handkerchief to her mouth tokeep back her sobs. Was not this woman Albert's mother?

The worthy nun was alone unmoved; she had seen, she said to herself, many such deliriums before. She understood absolutely nothing of whatwas passing. 

"These people are very foolish, " she muttered, "to pay so much attentionto the ramblings of a person out of her mind. "

She thought she had more sense than the others, so, approaching the bed, she began to cover up the sick woman. 

"Come, madame, " said she, "cover yourself, or you will catch cold. "

"Sister!" remonstrated the doctor and priest at the same moment. 

"For God's sake!" exclaimed the soldier, "let her speak. "

"Who, " continued the sick woman, unconscious of all that was passingabout her, "who told you I was deceiving you? Oh, the wretches! They setspies upon me; they discovered that an officer came frequently to seeme. But that officer was my brother, my dear Louis! When he was eighteenyears old, and being unable to obtain work, he enlisted, saying to mymother, that there would then be one mouth the less in the family. Hewas a good soldier, and his officers always liked him. He worked whilstwith his regiment; he taught himself, and he quickly rose in rank. Hewas promoted a lieutenant, then captain, and finally became major. Louisalways loved me; had he remained in Paris I should not have fallen. Butour mother died, and I was left all alone in this great city. He was anon-commissioned officer when he first knew that I had a lover; andhe was so enraged that I feared he would never forgive me. But he didforgive me, saying that my constancy in my error was its only excuse. Ah, my friend, he was more jealous of your honour than you yourself! Hecame to see me in secret, because I placed him in the unhappy positionof blushing for his sister. I had condemned myself never to speak ofhim, never to mention his name. Could a brave soldier confess that hissister was the mistress of a count? That it might not be known, I tookthe utmost precautions, but alas! only to make you doubt me. When Louisknew what was said, he wished in his blind rage to challenge you; andthen I was obliged to make him think that he had no right to defend me. What misery! Ah, I have paid dearly for my years of stolen happiness!But you are here, and all is forgotten. For you do believe me, do younot, Guy? I will write to Louis; he will come, he will tell you that Ido not lie, and you cannot doubt his, a soldier's word. "

"Yes, on my honour, " said the old soldier, "what my sister says is thetruth. "

The dying woman did not hear him; she continued in a voice pantingfrom weariness: "How your presence revives me. I feel that I am growingstronger. I have nearly been very ill. I am afraid I am not very prettytoday; but never mind, kiss me!"

She opened her arms, and thrust out her lips as if to kiss him. 

"But it is on one condition, Guy, that you will leave me my child? Oh! Ibeg of you, I entreat you not to take him from me; leave him to me. What is a mother without her child? You are anxious to give himan illustrious name, an immense fortune. No! You tell me that thissacrifice will be for his good. No! My child is mine; I will keep him. The world has no honours, no riches, which can replace a mother's love. You wish to give me in exchange, that other woman's child. Never! What!you would have that woman embrace my boy! It is impossible. Take awaythis strange child from me; he fills me with horror; I want my own! Ah, do not insist, do not threaten me with anger, do not leave me. I shouldgive in, and then, I should die. Guy, forget this fatal project, thethought of it alone is a crime. Cannot my prayers, my tears, can nothingmove you? Ah, well, God will punish us. All will be discovered. The daywill come when these children will demand a fearful reckoning. Guy, Iforesee the future; I see my son coming towards me, justly angered. What does he say, great heaven! Oh, those letters, those letters, sweetmemories of our love! My son, he threatens me! He strikes me! Ah, help!A son strike his mother. Tell no one of it, though. O my God, whattorture! Yet he knows well that I am his mother. He pretends not tobelieve me. Lord, this is too much! Guy! pardon! oh, my only friend! Ihave neither the power to resist, nor the courage to obey you. "

At this moment the door opening on to the landing opened, and Noelappeared, pale as usual, but calm and composed. The dying woman saw him, and the sight affected her like an electric shock. A terrible shuddershook her frame; her eyes grew inordinately large, her hair seemed tostand on end. She raised herself on her pillows, stretched out herarm in the direction where Noel stood, and in a loud voice exclaimed, "Assassin!"

She fell back convulsively on the bed. Some one hastened forward: shewas dead. 

A deep silence prevailed. 

Such is the majesty of death, and the terror which accompanies it, that, in its presence, even the strongest and most sceptical bow their heads. 

For a time, passions and interests are forgotten. Involuntarily weare drawn together, when some mutual friend breathes his last in ourpresence. 

All the bystanders were deeply moved by this painful scene, this lastconfession, wrested so to say from the delirium. 

And the last word uttered by Madame Gerdy, "assassin, " surprised no one. 

All, excepting the nun, knew of the awful accusation which had been madeagainst Albert. 

To him they applied the unfortunate mother's malediction. 

Noel seemed quite broken hearted. Kneeling by the bedside of her who hadbeen as a mother to him, he took one of her hands, and pressed it closeto his lips. 

"Dead!" he groaned, "she is dead!"

The nun and the priest knelt beside him, and repeated in a low voice theprayers for the dead. 

They implored God to shed his peace and mercy on the departed soul. 

They begged for a little happiness in heaven for her who had suffered somuch on earth. 

Fallen into a chair, his head thrown back, the Count de Commarin wasmore overwhelmed and more livid than this dead woman, his old love, onceso beautiful. 

Claire and the doctor hastened to assist him. 

They undid his cravat, and took off his shirt collar, for he wassuffocating. With the help of the old soldier, whose red, tearfuleyes, told of suppressed grief, they moved the count's chair to thehalf-opened window to give him a little air. Three days before, thisscene would have killed him. But the heart hardens by misfortune, likehands by labour. 

"His tears have saved him, " whispered the doctor to Claire. 

M. De Commarin gradually recovered, and, as his thoughts became clearer, his sufferings returned. 

Prostration follows great mental shocks. Nature seems to collect herstrength to sustain the misfortune. We do not feel all its intensity atonce; it is only afterwards that we realize the extent and profundity ofthe evil. 

The count's gaze was fixed upon the bed where lay Valerie's body. There, then, was all that remained of her. The soul, that soul so devoted andso tender, had flown. 

What would he not have given if God would have restored that unfortunatewoman to life for a day, or even for an hour? With what transportsof repentance he would have cast himself at her feet, to implore herpardon, to tell her how much he detested his past conduct! How hadhe acknowledged the inexhaustible love of that angel? Upon a meresuspicion, without deigning to inquire, without giving her a hearing, he had treated her with the coldest contempt. Why had he not seen heragain? He would have spared himself twenty years of doubt as to Albert'sbirth. Instead of an isolated existence, he would have led a happy, joyous life. 

Then he remembered the countess's death. She also had loved him, and haddied of her love. 

He had not understood them; he had killed them both. 

The hour of expiation had come; and he could not say: "Lord, thepunishment is too great. "

And yet, what punishment, what misfortunes, during the last five days!

"Yes, " he stammered, "she predicted it. Why did I not listen to her?"

Madame Gerdy's brother pitied the old man, so severely tried. He heldout his hand. 

"M. De Commarin, " he said, in a grave, sad voice, "my sister forgaveyou long ago, even if she ever had any ill feeling against you. It is myturn to-day; I forgive you sincerely. "

"Thank you, sir, " murmured the count, "thank you!" and then he added:"What a death!"

"Yes, " murmured Claire, "she breathed her last in the idea that her sonwas guilty of a crime. And we were not able to undeceive her. "

"At least, " cried the count, "her son should be free to render her hislast duties; yes, he must be. Noel!"

The advocate had approached his father, and heard all. 

"I have promised, father, " he replied, "to save him. "

For the first time, Mademoiselle d'Arlange was face to face with Noel. Their eyes met, and she could not restrain a movement of repugnance, which the advocate perceived. 

"Albert is already saved, " she said proudly. "What we ask is, thatprompt justice shall be done him; that he shall be immediately set atliberty. The magistrate now knows the truth. "

"The truth?" exclaimed the advocate. 

"Yes; Albert passed at my house, with me, the evening the crime wascommitted. "

Noel looked at her surprised; so singular a confession from such amouth, without explanation, might well surprise him. 

She drew herself up haughtily. 

"I am Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlange, sir, " said she. 

M. De Commarin now quickly ran over all the incidents reported byClaire. 

When he had finished, Noel replied: "You see, sir, my position at thismoment, to-morrow--"

"To-morrow?" interrupted the count, "you said, I believe, to-morrow!Honour demands, sir, that we act to-day, at this moment. You can showyour love for this poor woman much better by delivering her son than bypraying for her. "

Noel bowed low. 

"To hear your wish, sir, is to obey it, " he said; "I go. This evening, at your house, I shall have the honour of giving you an account of myproceedings. Perhaps I shall be able to bring Albert with me. "

He spoke, and, again embracing the dead woman, went out. 

Soon the count and Mademoiselle d'Arlange also retired. 

The old soldier went to the Mayor, to give notice of the death, and tofulfil the necessary formalities. 

The nun alone remained, awaiting the priest, which the cure had promisedto send to watch the corpse. 

The daughter of St. Vincent felt neither fear nor embarrassment, she hadbeen so many times in a similar position. Her prayers said, she aroseand went about the room, arranging everything as it should be in thepresence of death. She removed all traces of the illness, put away themedicine bottles, burnt some sugar upon the fire shovel, and, on a tablecovered with a white cloth at the head of the bed, placed some lightedcandles, a crucifix with holy water, and a branch of palm. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Greatly troubled and perplexed by Mademoiselle d'Arlange's revelations, M. Daburon was ascending the stairs that led to the offices of theinvestigating magistrates, when he saw old Tabaret coming towards him. The sight pleased him, and he at once called out: "M. Tabaret!"

But the old fellow, who showed signs of the most intense agitation, wasscarcely disposed to stop, or to lose a single minute. 

"You must excuse me, sir, " he said, bowing, "but I am expected at home. "

"I hope, however--"

"Oh, he is innocent, " interrupted old Tabaret. "I have already someproofs; and before three days--But you are going to see Gevrol's manwith the earrings. He is very cunning, Gevrol; I misjudged him. "

And without listening to another word, he hurried away, jumping downthree steps at a times, at the risk of breaking his neck. 

M. Daburon, greatly disappointed, also hastened on. 

In the passage, on a bench of rough wood before his office door, Albertsat awaiting him, under the charge of a Garde de Paris. 

"You will be summoned immediately, sir, " said the magistrate to theprisoner, as he opened his door. 

In the office, Constant was talking with a skinny little man, whomight have been taken, from his dress, for a well-to-do inhabitant ofBatignolles, had it not been for the enormous pin in imitation goldwhich shone in his cravat, and betrayed the detective. 

"You received my letters?" asked M. Daburon of his clerk. 

"Your orders have been executed, sir; the prisoner is without, and hereis M. Martin, who this moment arrived from the neighbourhood of theInvalides. "

"That is well, " said the magistrate in a satisfied tone. And, turningtowards the detective, "Well, M. Martin, " he asked, "what did you see?"

"The walls had been scaled, sir. "

"Lately?"

"Five or six days ago. "

"You are sure of this?"

"As sure as I am that I see M. Constant at this moment mending his pen. "

"The marks are plain?"

"As plain as the nose on my face, sir, if I may so express myself. Thethief--it was done by a thief, I imagine, " continued M. Martin, who wasa great talker--"the thief entered the garden before the rain, and wentaway after it, as you had conjectured. This circumstance is easy toestablish by examining the marks on the wall of the ascent and thedescent on the side towards the street. These marks are severalabrasions, evidently made by feet of some one climbing. The first areclean; the others, muddy. The scamp--he was a nimble fellow--in gettingin, pulled himself up by the strength of his wrists; but when goingaway, he enjoyed the luxury of a ladder, which he threw down as soon ashe was on the top of the wall. It is to see where he placed it, by holesmade in the ground by the fellow's weight; and also by the mortar whichhas been knocked away from the top of the wall. "

"Is that all?" asked the magistrate. 

"Not yet, sir. Three of the pieces of glass which cover the top of thewall have been removed. Several of the acacia branches, which extendover the wall have been twisted or broken. Adhering to the thorns ofone of these branches, I found this little piece of lavender kid, whichappears to me to belong to a glove. "

The magistrate eagerly seized the piece of kid. 

It had evidently come from a glove. 

"You took care, I hope, M. Martin, " said M. Daburon, "not to attractattention at the house where you made this investigation?"

"Certainly, sir. I first of all examined the exterior of the wall at myleisure. After that, leaving my hat at a wine shop round the corner, I called at the Marchioness d'Arlange's house, pretending to be theservant of a neighbouring duchess, who was in despair at having lost afavourite, and, if I may so speak, an eloquent parrot. I was verykindly given permission to explore the garden; and, as I spoke asdisrespectfully as possible of my pretended mistress they, no doubt, took me for a genuine servant. "

"You are an adroit and prompt fellow, M. Martin, " interrupted themagistrate. "I am well satisfied with you; and I will report youfavourably at headquarters. "

He rang his bell, while the detective, delighted at the praise he hadreceived, moved backwards to the door, bowing the while. 

Albert was then brought in. 

"Have you decided, sir, " asked the investigating magistrate withoutpreamble, "to give me a true account of how you spent last Tuesdayevening?"

"I have already told you, sir. "

"No, sir, you have not; and I regret to say that you lied to me. "

Albert, at this apparent insult, turned red, and his eyes flashed. 

"I know all that you did on that evening, " continued the magistrate, "because justice, as I have already told you, is ignorant of nothingthat it is important for it to know. "

Then, looking straight into Albert's eyes, he continued slowly: "I haveseen Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlange. "

On hearing that name, the prisoner's features, contracted by a firmresolve not to give way, relaxed. 

It seemed as though he experienced an immense sensation of delight, likea man who escapes almost by a miracle from an imminent danger which hehad despaired of avoiding. However, he made no reply. 

"Mademoiselle d'Arlange, " continued the magistrate, "has told me whereyou were on Tuesday evening. "

Albert still hesitated. 

"I am not setting a trap for you, " added M. Daburon; "I give you my wordof honour. She has told me all, you understand?"

This time Albert decided to speak. 

His explanations corresponded exactly with Claire's; not one detailmore. Henceforth, doubt was impossible. 

Mademoiselle d'Arlange had not been imposed upon. Either Albert wasinnocent, or she was his accomplice. 

Could she knowingly be the accomplice of such an odious crime? No; shecould not even be suspected of it. 

But who then was the assassin?

For, when a crime has been committed, justice demands a culprit. 

"You see, sir, " said the magistrate severely to Albert, "you did deceiveme. You risked your life, sir, and, what is also very serious, youexposed me, you exposed justice, to commit a most deplorable mistake. Why did you not tell me the truth at once?"

"Mademoiselle d'Arlange, sir, " replied Albert, "in according me ameeting, trusted in my honour. "

"And you would have died sooner than mention that interview?"interrupted M. Daburon with a touch of irony. "That is all very fine, sir, and worthy of the days of chivalry!"

"I am not the hero that you suppose, sir, " replied the prisoner simply. "If I told you that I did not count on Claire, I should be telling afalsehood. I was waiting for her. I knew that, on learning of my arrest, she would brave everything to save me. But her friends might have hid itfrom her; and that was what I feared. In that event, I do not think, so far as one can answer for oneself, that I should have mentioned hername. "

There was no appearance of bravado. What Albert said, he thought andfelt. M. Daburon regretted his irony. 

"Sir, " he said kindly, "you must return to your prison. I cannot releaseyou yet; but you will be no longer in solitary confinement. You will betreated with every attention due to a prisoner whose innocence appearsprobable. "

Albert bowed, and thanked him; and was then removed. 

"We are now ready for Gevrol, " said the magistrate to his clerk. 

The chief of detectives was absent: he had been sent for from thePrefecture of Police; but his witness, the man with the earrings, waswaiting in the passage. 

He was told to enter. 

He was one of those short, thick-set men, powerful as oaks, who look asthough they could carry almost any weight on their broad shoulders. 

His white hair and whiskers set off his features, hardened and tannedby the inclemency of the weather, the sea winds and the heat of thetropics. 

He had large callous black hands, with big sinewy fingers which musthave possessed the strength of a vice. 

Great earrings in the form of anchors hung from his ears. He was dressedin the costume of a well-to-do Normandy fisherman, out for a holiday. 

The clerk was obliged to push him into the office, for this son of theocean was timid and abashed when on shore. 

He advanced, balancing himself first on one leg, then on the other, withthat irregular walk of the sailor, who, used to the rolling and tossingof the waves, is surprised to find anything immovable beneath his feet. 

To give himself confidence, he fumbled over his soft felt hat, decoratedwith little lead medals, like the cap of king Louis XI. Of devoutmemory, and also adorned with some if that worsted twist made by theyoung country girls, on a primitive frame composed of four or five pinsstuck in a hollow cork. 

M. Daburon examined him, and estimated him at a glance. There was nodoubt but that he was the sunburnt man described by one of the witnessesat La Jonchere. 

It was also impossible to doubt his honesty. His open countenancedisplayed sincerity and good nature. 

"Your name?" demanded the investigating magistrate. 

"Marie Pierre Lerouge. "

"Are you, then, related to Claudine Lerouge?"

"I am her husband, sir. "

What, the husband of the victim alive, and the police ignorant of hisexistence!

Thus thought M. Daburon. 

What, then, does this wonderful progress in invention accomplish?

To-day, precisely as twenty years ago, when Justice is in doubt, itrequires the same inordinate loss of time and money to obtain theslightest information. 

On Friday, they had written to inquire about Claudine's past life; itwas now Monday, and no reply had arrived. 

And yet photography was in existence, and the electric telegraph. Theyhad at their service a thousand means, formerly unknown; and they madeno use of them. 

"Every one, " said the magistrate, "believed her a widow. She herselfpretended to be one. "

"Yes, for in that way she partly excused her conduct. Besides, it was anarrangement between ourselves. I had told her that I would have nothingmore to do with her. "

"Indeed? Well, you know that she is dead, victim of an odious crime?"

"The detective who brought me here told me of it, sir, " replied thesailor, his face darkening. "She was a wretch!" he added in a hollowvoice. 

"How? You, her husband, accuse her?"

"I have but too good reason to do so, sir. Ah, my dead father, whoforesaw it all at the time, warned me! I laughed, when he said, 'Takecare, or she will dishonour us all. ' He was right. Through her, Ihave been hunted down by the police, just like some skulking thief. Everywhere that they inquired after me with their warrant, people musthave said 'Ah, ha, he has then committed some crime!' And here I ambefore a magistrate! Ah, sir, what a disgrace! The Lerouges have beenhonest people, from father to son, ever since the world began. Inquire of all who have ever had dealings with me, they will tell you, 'Lerouge's word is as good as another man's writing. ' Yes, she was awicked woman; and I have often told her that she would come to a badend. "

"You told her that?"

"More than a hundred times, sir. "

"Why? Come, my friend, do not be uneasy, your honour is not at stakehere, no one questions it. When did you warn her so wisely?"

"Ah, a long time ago, sir, " replied the sailor, "the first time was morethan thirty years back. She had ambition even in her blood; she wishedto mix herself up in the intrigues of the great. It was that that ruinedher. She said that one got money for keeping secrets; and I said thatone got disgraced and that was all. To help the great to hide theirvillainies, and to expect happiness from it, is like making your bed ofthorns, in the hope of sleeping well. But she had a will of her own. "

"You were her husband, though, " objected M. Daburon, "you had the rightto command her obedience. "

The sailor shook his head, and heaved a deep sigh. 

"Alas, sir! it was I who obeyed. "

To proceed by short inquiries with a witness, when you have no idea ofthe information he brings, is but to lose time in attempting to gain it. When you think you are approaching the important fact, you may be justavoiding it. It is much better to give the witness the rein, and tolisten carefully, putting him back on the track should he get toofar away. It is the surest and easiest method. This was the courseM. Daburon adopted, all the time cursing Gevrol's absence, as he by asingle word could have shortened by a good half the examination, theimportance of which, by the way, the magistrate did not even suspect. 

"In what intrigues did your wife mingle?" asked he. "Go on, my friend, tell me everything exactly; here, you know, we must have not only thetruth, but the whole truth. "

Lerouge placed his hat on a chair. Then he began alternately to pullhis fingers, making them crack almost sufficiently to break them, andultimately scratched his head violently. It was his way of arranging hisideas. 

"I must tell you, " he began, "that it will be thirty-five years on St. John's day since I fell in love with Claudine. She was a pretty, neat, fascinating girl, with a voice sweeter than honey. She was the mostbeautiful girl in our part of the country, straight as a mast, supple asa willow, graceful and strong as a racing boat. Her eyes sparkled likeold cider; her hair was black, her teeth as white as pearls, and herbreath was as fresh as the sea breeze. The misfortune was, that shehadn't a sou, while we were in easy circumstances. Her mother, who wasthe widow of I can't say how many husbands, was, saving your presence, a bad woman, and my father was the worthiest man alive. When I spoke tothe old fellow of marrying Claudine he swore fiercely, and eightdays after, he sent me to Porto on a schooner belonging to one of ourneighbours, just to give me a change of air. I came back, at the end ofsix months, thinner than a marling spike, but more in love than ever. Recollections of Claudine scorched me like a fire. I could scarcely eator drink; but I felt that she loved me a little in return, for I was afine young fellow, and more than one girl had set her cap at me. Thenmy father, seeing that he could do nothing, that I was wasting away, and was on the road to join my mother in the cemetery, decided to letme complete my folly. So one evening, after we had returned from fishingand I got up from supper without tasting it, he said to me, 'Marrythe hag's daughter, and let's have no more of this. ' I remember itdistinctly, because, when I heard the old fellow call my love such aname, I flew into a great passion, and almost wanted to kill him. Ah, one never gains anything by marrying in opposition to one's parents!"

The worthy fellow was lost in the midst of his recollections. He wasvery far from his story. The investigating magistrate attempted to bringhim back into the right path, "Come to the point, " he said. 

"I am going to, sir; but it was necessary to begin at the beginning. I married. The evening after the wedding, and when the relatives andguests had departed, I was about to join my wife, when I perceived myfather all alone in a corner weeping. The sight touched my heart, andI had a foreboding of evil; but it quickly passed away. It is sodelightful during the first six months one passes with a dearly lovedwife! One seems to be surrounded by mists that change the very rocksinto palaces and temples so completely that novices are taken in. Fortwo years, in spite of a few little quarrels, everything went on nicely. Claudine managed me like a child. Ah, she was cunning! She might haveseized and bound me, and carried me to market and sold me, without mynoticing it. Her great fault was her love of finery. All that I earned, and my business was very prosperous, she put on her back. Every weekthere was something new, dresses, jewels, bonnets, the devil's baubles, which the dealers invent for the perdition of the female sex. Theneighbors chattered, but I thought it was all right. At the baptismof our son, who was called Jacques after my father, to please her, Isquandered all I had economized during my youth, more than three hundredpistoles, with which I had intended purchasing a meadow that lay in themidst of our property. "

M. Daburon was boiling over with impatience, but he could do nothing. 

"Go on, go on, " he said every time Lerouge seemed inclined to stop. 

"I was well enough pleased, " continued the sailor, "until one morningI saw one of the Count de Commarin's servants entering our house; thecount's chateau is only about a mile from where I lived on the otherside of the town. It was a fellow named Germain whom I didn't like atall. It was said about the country that he had been mixed up in theseduction of poor Thomassine, a fine young girl who lived near us; sheappears to have pleased the count, and one day suddenly disappeared. Iasked my wife what the fellow wanted; she replied that he had come toask her to take a child to nurse. I would not hear of it at first, forour means were sufficient to allow Claudine to keep all her milk forour own child. But she gave me the very best of reasons. She said sheregretted her past flirtations and her extravagance. She wished toearn a little money, being ashamed of doing nothing while I was killingmyself with work. She wanted to save, to economize, so that our childshould not be obliged in his turn to go to sea. She was to get a verygood price, that we could save up to go towards the three hundredpistoles. That confounded meadow, to which she alluded, decided me. "

"Did she not tell you of the commission with which she was charged?"asked the magistrate. 

This question astonished Lerouge. He thought that there was good reasonto say that justice sees and knows everything. 

"Not then, " he answered, "but you will see. Eight days after, thepostman brought a letter, asking her to go to Paris to fetch thechild. It arrived in the evening. 'Very well, ' said she, 'I will startto-morrow by the diligence. ' I didn't say a word then; but next morning, when she was about to take her seat in the diligence, I declared that Iwas going with her. She didn't seem at all angry, on the contrary. Shekissed me, and I was delighted. At Paris, she was to call for the littleone at a Madame Gerdy's, who lived on the Boulevard. We arranged thatshe should go alone, while I awaited for her at our inn. After shehad gone, I grew uneasy. I went out soon after, and prowled about nearMadame Gerdy's house, making inquiries of the servants and others; Isoon discovered that she was the Count de Commarin's mistress. I feltso annoyed that, if I had been master, my wife should have come awaywithout the little bastard. I am only a poor sailor, and I know thata man sometimes forgets himself. One takes too much to drink, forinstance, or goes out on the loose with some friends; but that a manwith a wife and children should live with another woman and give herwhat really belongs to his legitimate offspring, I think is bad--verybad. Is it not so, sir?"

The investigating magistrate moved impatiently in his chair. "Willthis man never come to the point, " he muttered. "Yes, you are perfectlyright, " he added aloud; "but never mind your thoughts. Go on, go on!"

"Claudine, sir, was more obstinate than a mule. After three days ofviolent discussion, she obtained from me a reluctant consent, betweentwo kisses. Then she told me that we were not going to return home bythe diligence. The lady, who feared the fatigue of the journey for herchild, had arranged that we should travel back by short stages, in hercarriage, and drawn by her horses. For she was kept in grand style. Iwas ass enough to be delighted, because it gave me a chance to see thecountry at my leisure. We were, therefore, installed with the children, mine and the other, in an elegant carriage, drawn by magnificentanimals, and driven by a coachman in livery. My wife was mad with joy;she kissed me over and over again, and chinked handfuls of gold in myface. I felt as foolish as an honest husband who finds money in hishouse which he didn't earn himself. Seeing how I felt, Claudine, hopingto pacify me, resolved to tell me the whole truth. 'See here, ' she saidto me, --"

Lerouge stopped, and, changing his tone, said, "You understand that itis my wife who is speaking?"

"Yes, yes. Go on. "

"She said to me, shaking her pocket full of money, 'See here, my man, weshall always have as much of this as ever we may want, and this is why:The count, who also had a legitimate child at the same time as thisbastard, wishes that this one shall bear his name instead of the other;and this can be accomplished, thanks to me. On the road, we shall meetat the inn, where we are to sleep, M. Germain and the nurse to whom theyhave entrusted the legitimate son. We shall be put in the same room, and, during the night, I am to change the little ones, who have beenpurposely dressed alike. For this the count gives me eight thousandfrancs down, and a life annuity of a thousand francs. '"

"And you!" exclaimed the magistrate, "you, who call yourself an honestman, permitted such villainy, when one word would have been sufficientto prevent it?"

"Sir, I beg of you, " entreated Lerouge, "permit me to finish. "

"Well, continue!"

"I could say nothing at first, I was so choked with rage. I must havelooked terrible. But she, who was generally afraid of me when I was ina passion, burst out laughing, and said, 'What a fool you are! Listen, before turning sour like a bowl of milk. The count is the only one whowants this change made; and he is the one that's to pay for it. Hismistress, this little one's mother, doesn't want it at all; she merelypretended to consent, so as not to quarrel with her lover, and becauseshe has got a plan of her own. She took me aside, during my visit in herroom, and, after having made me swear secrecy on a crucifix, she toldme that she couldn't bear the idea of separating herself from her babeforever, and of bringing up another's child. She added that, if I wouldagree not to change the children, and not to tell the count, she wouldgive me ten thousand francs down, and guarantee me an annuity equal tothe one the count had promised me. She declared, also, that she couldeasily find out whether I kept my word, as she had made a mark ofrecognition on her little one. She didn't show me the mark; and I haveexamined him carefully, but can't find it. Do you understand now? Imerely take care of this little fellow here. I tell the count that Ihave changed the children; we receive from both sides, and Jacques willbe rich. Now kiss your little wife who has more sense than you, you olddear!' That, sir, is word for word what Claudine said to me. "

The rough sailor drew from his pocket a large blue-checked handkerchief, and blew his nose so violently that the windows shook. It was his way ofweeping. 

M. Daburon was confounded. Since the beginning of this sad affair, hehad encountered surprise after surprise. Scarcely had he got his ideasin order on one point, when all his attention was directed to another. 

He felt himself utterly routed. What was he about to learn now? Helonged to interrogate quickly, but he saw that Lerouge told his storywith difficulty, laboriously disentangling his recollections; he wasguided by a single thread which the least interruption might seriouslyentangle. 

"What Claudine proposed to me, " continued the sailor, "was villainous;and I am an honest man. But she kneaded me to her will as easily as abaker kneads dough. She turned my heart topsy-turvy: she made me seewhite as snow that which was really as black as ink. How I loved her!She proved to me that we were wronging no one, that we were makinglittle Jacques's fortune, and I was silenced. At evening we arrived atsome village; and the coachman, stopping the carriage before an inn, told us we were to sleep there. We entered, and who do you think we saw?That scamp, Germain, with a nurse carrying a child dressed so exactlylike the one we had that I was startled. They had journeyed there, likeourselves, in one of the count's carriages. A suspicion crossed my mind. How could I be sure that Claudine had not invented the second storyto pacify me? She was certainly capable of it. I was enraged. I hadconsented to the one wickedness, but not to the other. I resolved notto lose sight of the little bastard, swearing that they shouldn't changeit; so I kept him all the evening on my knees, and to be all the moresure, I tied my handkerchief about his waist. Ah! the plan had been welllaid. After supper, some one spoke of retiring, and then it turned outthat there were only two double-bedded rooms in the house. It seemed asthough it had been built expressly for the scheme. The innkeeper saidthat the two nurses might sleep in one room, and Germain and myself inthe other. Do you understand, sir? Add to this, that during the eveningI had surprised looks of intelligence passing between my wife andthat rascally servant, and you can imagine how furious I was. It wasconscience that spoke; and I was trying to silence it. I knew very wellthat I was doing wrong; and I almost wished myself dead. Why is it thatwomen can turn an honest man's conscience about like a weather-cock withtheir wheedling?"

M. Daburon's only reply was a heavy blow of his fist on the table. 

Lerouge proceeded more quickly. 

"As for me, I upset that arrangement, pretending to be too jealous toleave my wife a minute. They were obliged to give way to me. The othernurse went up to bed first. Claudine and I followed soon afterwards. Mywife undressed and got into bed with our son and the little bastard. Idid not undress. Under the pretext that I should be in the way of thechildren, I installed myself in a chair near the bed, determined not toshut my eyes, and to keep close watch. I put out the candle, in order tolet the women sleep, though I could not think of doing so myself; and Ithought of my father, and of what he would say, if he ever heard of mybehaviour. Towards midnight, I heard Claudine moving. I held my breath. She was getting out of bed. Was she going to change the children? Now, I knew that she was not; then, I felt sure that she was. I was besidemyself, and seizing her by the arm, I commenced to beat her roughly, giving free vent to all that I had on my heart. I spoke in a loud voice, the same as when I am on board ship in a storm; I swore like a fiend, Iraised a frightful disturbance. The other nurse cried out as though shewere being murdered. At this uproar, Germain rushed in with a lightedcandle. The sight of him finished me. Not knowing what I was doing, Idrew from my pocket a long Spanish knife, which I always carried, andseizing the cursed bastard, I thrust the blade through his arm, crying, 'This way, at least, he can't be changed without my knowing it; he ismarked for life!'"

Lerouge could scarcely utter another word. Great drops of sweat stoodout upon his brow, then, trickling down his cheeks, lodged in the deepwrinkles of his face. He panted; but the magistrate's stern glanceharassed him, and urged him on, like the whip which flogs the negroslave overcome with fatigue. 

"The little fellow's wound, " he resumed, "was terrible. It bleddreadfully, and he might have died; but I didn't think of that. I wasonly troubled about the future, about what might happen afterwards. Ideclared that I would write out all that had occurred, and that everyoneshould sign it. This was done; we could all four write. Germain didn'tdare resist; for I spoke with knife in hand. He wrote his name first, begging me to say nothing about it to the count, swearing that, for hispart, he would never breathe a word of it, and pledging the other nurseto a like secrecy. "

"And have you kept this paper?" asked M. Daburon. 

"Yes, sir, and as the detective to whom I confessed all, advised me tobring it with me, I went to take it from the place where I always keptit, and I have it here. "

"Give it to me. "

Lerouge took from his coat pocket an old parchment pocket-book, fastenedwith a leather thong, and withdrew from it a paper yellowed by age andcarefully sealed. 

"Here it is, " said he. "The paper hasn't been opened since that accursednight. "

And, in fact, when the magistrate unfolded it, some dust fell out, whichhad been used to keep the writing, when wet, from blotting. 

It was really a brief description of the scene, described by the oldsailor. The four signatures were there. 

"What has become of the witnesses who signed this declaration?" murmuredthe magistrate, speaking to himself. 

Lerouge, who thought the question was put to him, replied, "Germain isdead. I have been told that he was drowned when out rowing. Claudinehas just been assassinated; but the other nurse still lives. I even knowthat she spoke of the affair to her husband, for he hinted as muchto me. His name is Brosette, and she lives in the village of Commarinitself. "

"And what next?" asked the magistrate, after having taken down the nameand address. 

"The next day, sir, Claudine managed to pacify me, and extorted apromise of secrecy. The child was scarcely ill at all; but he retainedan enormous scar on his arm. "

"Was Madame Gerdy informed of what took place?"

"I do not think so, sir. But I would rather say that I do not know. "

"What! you do not know?"

"Yes, sir, I swear it. You see my ignorance comes from what happenedafterwards. "

"What happened, then?"

The sailor hesitated. 

"That, sir, concerns only myself, and--"

"My friend, " interrupted the magistrate, "you are an honest man, Ibelieve; in fact, I am sure of it. But once in your life, influenced bya wicked woman, you did wrong, you became an accomplice in a very guiltyaction. Repair that error by speaking truly now. All that is said here, and which is not directly connected with the crime, will remain secret;even I will forget it immediately. Fear nothing, therefore; and, if youexperience some humiliation, think that it is your punishment for thepast. "

"Alas, sir, " answered the sailor, "I have been already greatly punished;and it is a long time since my troubles began. Money, wickedly acquired, brings no good. On arriving home, I bought the wretched meadow for muchmore than it was worth; and the day I walked over it, feeling that iswas actually mine, closed my happiness. Claudine was a coquette; but shehad a great many other vices. When she realised how much money we hadthese vices showed themselves, just like a fire, smouldering at thebottom of the hold, bursts forth when you open the hatches. Fromslightly greedy as she had been, she became a regular glutton. In ourhouse there was feasting without end. Whenever I went to sea, she wouldentertain the worst women in the place; and there was nothing too goodor too expensive for them. She would get so drunk that she would have tobe put to bed. Well, one night, when she thought me at Rouen, I returnedunexpectedly. I entered, and found her with a man. And such a man, sir!A miserable looking wretch, ugly, dirty, stinking; shunned by everyone;in a word the bailiff's clerk. I should have killed him, like the verminthat he was; it was my right, but he was such a pitiful object. I tookhim by the neck and pitched him out of the window, without opening it!It didn't kill him. Then I fell upon my wife, and beat her until shecouldn't stir. "

Lerouge spoke in a hoarse voice, every now and then thrusting his fistsinto his eyes. 

"I pardoned her, " he continued; "but the man who beats his wife and thenpardons her is lost. In the future, she took better precautions, becamea greater hypocrite, and that was all. In the meanwhile, Madame Gerdytook back her child; and Claudine had nothing more to restrain her. Protected and counselled by her mother, whom she had taken to live withus, on the pretence of looking after Jacques, she managed to deceive mefor more than a year. I thought she had given up her bad habits, but notat all; she lived a most disgraceful life. My house became the resort ofall the good-for-nothing rogues in the country, for whom my wife broughtout bottles of wine and brandy, whenever I was away at sea, and they gotdrunk promiscuously. When money failed, she wrote to the count or hismistress, and the orgies continued. Occasionally I had doubts whichdisturbed me; and then without reason, for a simple yes or no, I wouldbeat her until I was tired, and then I would forgive her, like a coward, like a fool. It was a cursed life. I don't know which gave me the mostpleasure, embracing her or beating her. My neighbors despised me, andturned their backs on me; they believed me an accomplice or a willingdupe. I heard, afterwards, that they believed I profited by my wife'smisconduct; while in reality she paid her lovers. At all events, peoplewondered where all the money came from that was spent in my house. Todistinguish me from a cousin of mine, also named Lerouge, they tackedan infamous word on to my name. What disgrace! And I knew nothing of allthe scandal, no, nothing. Was I not the husband? Fortunately, though, mypoor father was dead. "

M. Daburon pitied the speaker sincerely. 

"Rest a while, my friend, " he said; "compose yourself. "

"No, " replied the sailor, "I would rather get through with it quickly. One man, the priest, had the charity to tell me of it. If ever he shouldwant Lerouge! Without losing a minute, I went and saw a lawyer, andasked him how an honest sailor who had had the misfortune to marry ahussy ought to act. He said that nothing could be done. To go to law wassimply to publish abroad one's own dishonour, while a separation wouldaccomplish nothing. When once a man has given his name to a woman, hetold me, he cannot take it back; it belongs to her for the rest of herdays, and she has a right to dispose of it. She may sully it, cover itwith mire, drag it from wine shop to wine shop, and her husband can donothing. That being the case, my course was soon taken. That same day, Isold the fatal meadow, and sent the proceeds of it to Claudine, wishingto keep nothing of the price of shame. I then had a document drawn up, authorising her to administer our property, but not allowing her eitherto sell or mortgage it. Then I wrote her a letter in which I told herthat she need never expect to hear of me again, that I was nothing moreto her, and that she might look upon herself as a widow. That same nightI went away with my son. "

"And what became of your wife after your departure?"

"I cannot say, sir; I only know that she quitted the neighbourhood ayear after I did. "

"You have never lived with her since?"

"Never. "

"But you were at her house three days before the crime was committed. "

"That is true, but it was absolutely necessary. I had had much troubleto find her, no one knew what had become of her. Fortunately my notarywas able to procure Madame Gerdy's address; he wrote to her, and thatis how I learnt that Claudine was living at La Jonchere. I was then atRome. Captain Gervais, who is a friend of mine, offered to take me toParis on his boat, and I accepted. Ah, sir, what a shock I experiencedwhen I entered her house! My wife did not know me! By constantly tellingeveryone that I was dead, she had without a doubt ended by believingit herself. When I told her my name, she fell back in her chair. Thewretched woman had not changed in the least; she had by her side a glassand a bottle of brandy--"

"All this doesn't explain why you went to seek your wife. "

"It was on Jacques's account, sir, that I went. The youngster has grownto be a man; and he wants to marry. For that, his mother's consent wasnecessary; and I was taking to Claudine a document which the notary haddrawn up, and which she signed. This is it. "

M. Daburon took the paper, and appeared to read it attentively. Aftera moment he asked: "Have you thought who could have assassinated yourwife?"

Lerouge made no reply. 

"Do you suspect any one?" persisted the magistrate. 

"Well, sir, " replied the sailor, "what can I say? I thought thatClaudine had wearied out the people from whom she drew money, like waterfrom a well; or else getting drunk one day, she had blabbed too freely. "

The testimony being as complete as possible, M. Daburon dismissedLerouge, at the same time telling him to wait for Gevrol, who would takehim to a hotel, where he might wait, at the disposal of justice, untilfurther orders. 

"All your expenses will be paid you, " added the magistrate. 

Lerouge had scarcely left, when an extraordinary, unheard of, unprecedented event took place in the magistrate's office. Constant, theserious, impressive, immovable, deaf and dumb Constant, rose from hisseat and spoke. 

He broke a silence of fifteen years. He forgot himself so far as tooffer an opinion. 

"This, sir, " said he, "is a most extraordinary affair. "

Very extraordinary, truly, thought M. Daburon, and calculated to routall predictions, all preconceived opinions. 

Why had he, the magistrate, moved with such deplorable haste? Why beforerisking anything, had he not waited to possess all the elements of thisimportant case, to hold all the threads of this complicated drama?

Justice is accused of slowness; but it is this very slowness thatconstitutes its strength and surety, its almost infallibility. Onescarcely knows what a time evidence takes to produce itself. There is noknowing what important testimony investigations apparently useless mayreveal. 

When the entanglement of the various passions and motives seemshopeless, an unknown personage presents himself, coming from no oneknows where, and it is he who explains everything. 

M. Daburon, usually the most prudent of men, had considered as simpleone of the most complex of cases. He had acted in a mysterious crime, which demanded the utmost caution, as carelessly as though it were acase of simple misdemeanour. Why? Because his memory had not left himhis free deliberation, judgment, and discernment. He had feared equallyappearing weak and being revengeful. Thinking himself sure of his facts, he had been carried away by his animosity. And yet how often had henot asked himself: Where is duty? But then, when one is at all doubtfulabout duty, one is on the wrong road. 

The singular part of it all was that the magistrate's faults sprang fromhis very honesty. He had been led astray by a too great refinement ofconscience. The scruples which troubled him had filled his mind withphantoms, and had prompted in him the passionate animosity he haddisplayed at a certain moment. 

Calmer now, he examined the case more soundly. As a whole, thank heaven!there was nothing done which could not be repaired. He accused himself, however, none the less harshly. Chance alone had stopped him. At thatmoment he resolved that he would never undertake another investigation. His profession henceforth inspired him with an unconquerable loathing. Then his interview with Claire had re-opened all the old wounds in hisheart, and they bled more painfully than ever. He felt, in despair, thathis life was broken, ruined. A man may well feel so, when all women areas nothing to him except one, whom he may never dare hope to possess. Too pious a man to think of suicide, he asked himself with anguish whatwould become of him when he threw aside his magistrate's robes. 

Then he turned again to the business in hand. In any case, innocentor guilty, Albert was really the Viscount de Commarin, the count'slegitimate son. But was he guilty? Evidently he was not. 

"I think, " exclaimed M. Daburon suddenly, "I must speak to the Count deCommarin. Constant, send to his house a message for him to come here atonce; if he is not at home, he must be sought for. "

M. Daburon felt that an unpleasant duty was before him. He would beobliged to say to the old nobleman: "Sir, your legitimate son is notNoel, but Albert. " What a position, not only painful, but bordering onthe ridiculous! As a compensation, though, he could tell him that Albertwas innocent. 

To Noel he would also have to tell the truth: hurl him to earth, afterhaving raised him among the clouds. What a blow it would be! But, without a doubt, the count would make him some compensation; at least, he ought to. 

"Now, " murmured the magistrate, "who can be the criminal?"

An idea crossed his mind, at first it seemed to him absurd. He rejectedit, then thought of it again. He examined it in all its various aspects. He had almost adopted it, when M. De Commarin entered. M. Daburon'smessenger had arrived just as the count was alighting from his carriage, on returning with Claire from Madame Gerdy's. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Old Tabaret talked, but he acted also. 

Abandoned by the investigating magistrate to his own resources, he setto work without losing a minute and without taking a moment's rest. 

The story of the cabriolet, drawn by a swift horse, was exact in everyparticular. 

Lavish with his money, the old fellow had gathered together a dozendetectives on leave or rogues out of work; and at the head of theseworthy assistants, seconded by his friend Lecoq, he had gone toBougival. 

He had actually searched the country, house by house, with the obstinacyand the patience of a maniac hunting for a needle in a hay-stack. 

His efforts were not absolutely wasted. 

After three days' investigation, he felt comparatively certain that theassassin had not left the train at Rueil, as all the people of Bougival, La Jonchere, and Marly do, but had gone on as far as Chatou. 

Tabaret thought he recognized him in a man described to him by theporters at that station as rather young, dark, and with black whiskers, carrying an overcoat and an umbrella. 

This person, who arrived by the train which left Paris for St. Germainat thirty-five minutes past eight in the evening, had appeared to be ina very great hurry. 

On quitting the station, he had started off at a rapid pace on the roadwhich led to Bougival. Upon the way, two men from Marly and a woman fromLa Malmaison had noticed him on account of his rapid pace. He smoked ashe hurried along. 

On crossing the bridge which joins the two banks of the Seine atBougival, he had been still more noticed. 

It is usual to pay a toll on crossing this bridge; and the supposedassassin had apparently forgotten this circumstance. He passed withoutpaying, keeping up his rapid pace, pressing his elbows to his side, husbanding his breath, and the gate-keeper was obliged to run after himfor his toll. 

He seemed greatly annoyed at the circumstance, threw the man a ten soupiece, and hurried on, without waiting for the nine sous change. 

Nor was that all. 

The station master at Rueil remembered, that, two minutes before thequarter past ten train came up, a passenger arrived very agitated, andso out of breath that he could scarcely ask for a second class ticketfor Paris. 

The appearance of this man corresponded exactly with the descriptiongiven of him by the porters at Chatou, and by the gatekeeper at thebridge. 

Finally, the old man thought he was on the track of some one who enteredthe same carriage as the breathless passenger. He had been told of abaker living at Asnieres, and he had written to him, asking him to callat his house. 

Such was old Tabaret's information, when on the Monday morning he calledat the Palais de Justice, in order to find out if the record of WidowLerouge's past life had been received. He found that nothing hadarrived, but in the passage he met Gevrol and his man. 

The chief of detectives was triumphant, and showed it too. As soon ashe saw Tabaret, he called out, "Well, my illustrious mare's-nest hunter, what news? Have you had any more scoundrels guillotined since the otherday? Ah, you old rogue, you want to oust me from my place I can see!"

The old man was sadly changed. 

The consciousness of his mistake made him humble and meek. Thesepleasantries, which a few days before would have made him angry, nowdid not touch him. Instead of retaliating, he bowed his head in such apenitent manner that Gevrol was astonished. 

"Jeer at me, my good M. Gevrol, " he replied, "mock me without pity; youare right, I deserve it all. "

"Ah, come now, " said the chief, "have you then performed some newmasterpiece, you impetuous old fellow?"

Old Tabaret shook his head sadly. 

"I have delivered up an innocent man, " he said, "and justice will notrestore him his freedom. "

Gevrol was delighted, and rubbed his hands until he almost wore away theskin. 

"This is fine, " he sang out, "this is capital. To bring criminals tojustice is of no account at all. But to free the innocent, by Jove! thatis the last touch of art. Tirauclair, you are an immense wonder; and Ibow before you. "

And at the same time, he raised his hat ironically. 

"Don't crush me, " replied the old fellow. "As you know, in spite of mygrey hairs, I am young in the profession. Because chance served me threeor four times, I became foolishly proud. I have learned too late thatI am not all that I had thought myself; I am but an apprentice, andsuccess has turned my head; while you, M. Gevrol, you are the master ofall of us. Instead of laughing, pray help me, aid me with youradvice and your experience. Alone, I can do nothing, while with yourassistance----!"

Gevrol is vain in the highest degree. 

Tabaret's submission tickled his pretensions as a detective immensely;for in reality he thought the old man very clever. He was softened. 

"I suppose, " he said patronisingly, "you refer to the La Jonchereaffair?"

"Alas! yes, my dear M. Gevrol, I wished to work without you, and I havegot myself into a pretty mess. "

Cunning old Tabaret kept his countenance as penitent as that of asacristan caught eating meat on a Friday; but he was inwardly laughingand rejoicing all the while. 

"Conceited fool!" he thought, "I will flatter you so much that you willend by doing everything I want. "

M. Gevrol rubbed his nose, put out his lower lip, and said, "Ah, --hem!"

He pretended to hesitate; but it was only because he enjoyed prolongingthe old amateur's discomfiture. 

"Come, " said he at last, "cheer up, old Tirauclair. I'm a good fellow atheart, and I'll give you a lift. That's kind, isn't it? But, to-day, I'mtoo busy, I've an appointment to keep. Come to me to-morrow morning, and we'll talk it over. But before we part I'll give you a light to findyour way with. Do you know who that witness is that I've brought?"

"No; but tell me, my good M. Gevrol. "

"Well, that fellow on the bench there, who is waiting for M. Daburon, isthe husband of the victim of the La Jonchere tragedy!"

"Is it possible?" exclaimed old Tabaret, perfectly astounded. Then, after reflecting a moment, he added, "You are joking with me. "

"No, upon my word. Go and ask him his name; he will tell you that it isPierre Lerouge. "

"She wasn't a widow then?"

"It appears not, " replied Gevrol sarcastically, "since there is herhappy spouse. "

"Whew!" muttered the old fellow. "And does he know anything?"

In a few sentences, the chief of detectives related to his amateurcolleague the story that Lerouge was about to tell the investigatingmagistrate. 

"What do you say to that?" he asked when he came to the end. 

"What do I say to that?" stammered old Tabaret, whose countenanceindicated intense astonishment; "what do I say to that? I don't sayanything. But I think, --no, I don't think anything either!"

"A slight surprise, eh?" said Gevrol, beaming. 

"Say rather an immense one, " replied Tabaret. 

But suddenly he started, and gave his forehead a hard blow with hisfist. 

"And my baker!" he cried, "I will see you to-morrow, then, M. Gevrol. "

"He is crazed, " thought the head detective. 

The old fellow was sane enough, but he had suddenly recollected theAsnieres baker, whom he had asked to call at his house. Would he stillfind him there?

Going down the stairs he met M. Daburon; but, as one has already seen, he hardly deigned to reply to him. 

He was soon outside, and trotted off along the quays. 

"Now, " said he to himself, "let us consider. Noel is once more plainNoel Gerdy. He won't feel very pleased, for he thought so much of havinga great name. Pshaw! if he likes, I'll adopt him. Tabaret doesn't soundso well as Commarin, but it's at least a name. Anyhow, Gevrol's storyin no way affects Albert's situation nor my convictions. He is thelegitimate son; so much the better for him! That however, would notprove his innocence to me, if I doubted it. He evidently knew nothing ofthese surprising circumstances, any more than his father. He must havebelieved as well as the count in the substitution having taken place. Madame Gerdy, too, must have been ignorant of these facts; they probablyinvented some story to explain the scar. Yes, but Madame Gerdy certainlyknew that Noel was really her son, for when he was returned to her, she no doubt looked for the mark she had made on him. Then, when Noeldiscovered the count's letters, she must have hastened to explain tohim--"

Old Tabaret stopped as suddenly as if further progress were obstructedby some dangerous reptile. He was terrified at the conclusion he hadreached. 

"Noel, then, must have assassinated Widow Lerouge, to prevent herconfessing that the substitution had never taken place, and have burntthe letters and papers which proved it!"

But he repelled this supposition with horror, as every honest man drivesaway a detestable thought which by accident enters his mind. 

"What an old idiot I am!" he exclaimed, resuming his walk; "this is theresult of the horrible profession I once gloried in following! SuspectNoel, my boy, my sole heir, the personification of virtue and honour!Noel, whom ten years of constant intercourse have taught me to esteemand admire to such a degree that I would speak for him as I would formyself! Men of his class must indeed be moved by terrible passions tocause them to shed blood; and I have always known Noel to have but twopassions, his mother and his profession. And I dare even to breath asuspicion against this noble soul? I ought to be whipped! Old fool!isn't the lesson you have already received sufficiently terrible? Willyou never be more cautious?"

Thus he reasoned, trying to dismiss his disquieting thoughts, andrestraining his habits of investigation; but in his heart a tormentingvoice constantly whispered, "Suppose it is Noel. "

He at length reached the Rue St. Lazare. Before the door of his housestood a magnificent horse harnessed to an elegant blue brougham. At thesight of these he stopped. 

"A handsome animal!" he said to himself; "my tenants receive some swellpeople. "

They apparently received visitors of an opposite class also, for, atthat moment, he saw M. Clergeot came out, worthy M. Clergeot, whosepresence in a house betrayed ruin just as surely as the presence of theundertakers announce a death. The old detective, who knew everybody, waswell acquainted with the worthy banker. He had even done business withhim once, when collecting books. He stopped him and said: "Halloa! youold crocodile, you have clients, then, in my house?"

"So it seems, " replied Clergeot dryly, for he does not like beingtreated with such familiarity. 

"Ah! ah!" said old Tabaret. And, prompted by the very natural curiosityof a landlord who is bound to be very careful about the financialcondition of his tenants, he added, "Who the deuce are you ruining now?"

"I am ruining no one, " replied M. Clergeot, with an air of offendeddignity. "Have you ever had reason to complain of me whenever we havedone business together? I think not. Mention me to the young advocateup there, if you like; he will tell you whether he has reason to regretknowing me. "

These words produced a painful impression on Tabaret. What, Noel, theprudent Noel, one of Clergeot's customers! What did it mean? Perhapsthere was no harm in it; but then he remembered the fifteen thousandfrancs he had lent Noel on the Thursday. 

"Yes, " said he, wishing to obtain some more information, "I know that M. Gerdy spends a pretty round sum. "

Clergeot has the delicacy never to leave his clients undefended whenattacked. 

"It isn't he personally, " he objected, "who makes the money dance; itsthat charming little woman of his. Ah, she's no bigger than your thumb, but she'd eat the devil, hoofs, horns, and all!"

What! Noel had a mistress, a woman whom Clergeot himself, the friend ofsuch creatures, considered expensive! The revelation, at such a moment, pierced the old man's heart. But he dissembled. A gesture, a look, mightawaken the usurer's mistrust, and close his mouth. 

"That's well known, " replied Tabaret in a careless tone. "Youth musthave it's day. But what do you suppose the wench costs him a year?"

"Oh, I don't know! He made the mistake of not fixing a price with her. According to my calculation, she must have, during the four years thatshe has been under his protection, cost him close upon five hundredthousand francs. "

Four years? Five hundred thousand francs! These words, these figures, burst like bombshells on old Tabaret's brain. Half a million! In thatcase, Noel was utterly ruined. But then--

"It is a great deal, " said he, succeeding by desperate efforts in hidinghis emotion; "it is enormous. M. Gerdy, however, has resources. "

"He!" interrupted the usurer, shrugging his shoulders. "Not even that!"he added, snapping his fingers; "He is utterly cleaned out. But, if heowes you money, do not be anxious. He is a sly dog. He is going to bemarried; and I have just renewed bills of his for twenty-six thousandfrancs. Good-bye, M. Tabaret. "

The usurer hurried away, leaving the poor old fellow standing like amilestone in the middle of the pavement. He experienced something ofthat terrible grief which breaks a father's heart when he begins torealize that his dearly loved son is perhaps the worst of scoundrels. 

And, yet, such was his confidence in Noel that he again struggled withhis reason to resist the suspicions which tormented him. Perhaps theusurer had been slandering his friend. People who lend their moneyat more than ten per cent are capable of anything. Evidently he hadexaggerated the extent of Noel's follies. 

And, supposing it were true? Have not many men done just such insanethings for women, without ceasing to be honest?

As he was about to enter his house, a whirlwind of silk, lace, andvelvet, stopped the way. A pretty young brunette came out and jumped aslightly as a bird into the blue brougham. 

Old Tabaret was a gallant man, and the young woman was most charming, but he never even looked at her. He passed in, and found his conciergestanding, cap in hand, and tenderly examining a twenty franc piece. 

"Ah, sir, " said the man, "such a pretty young person, and so lady-like!If you had only been here five minutes sooner. "

"What lady? why?"

"That elegant lady, who just went out, sir; she came to make someinquiries about M. Gerdy. She gave me twenty francs for answering herquestions. It seems that the gentleman is going to be married; and shewas evidently much annoyed about it. Superb creature! I have an ideathat she is his mistress. I know now why he goes out every night. "

"M. Gerdy?"

"Yes, sir, but I never mentioned it to you, because he seemed to wish tohide it. He never asks me to open the door for him, no, not he. He slipsout by the little stable door. I have often said to myself, 'Perhaps hedoesn't want to disturb me; it is very thoughtful on his part, and heseems to enjoy it so. '"

The concierge spoke with his eyes fixed on the gold piece. When heraised his head to examine the countenance of his lord and master, oldTabaret had disappeared. 

"There's another!" said the concierge to himself. "I'll bet a hundredsous, that he's running after the superb creature! Run ahead, go it, old dotard, you shall have a little bit, but not much, for it's veryexpensive!"

The concierge was right. Old Tabaret was running after the lady in theblue brougham. 

"She will tell me all, " he thought, and with a bound he was in thestreet. He reached it just in time to see the blue brougham turn thecorner of the Rue St. Lazare. 

"Heavens!" he murmured. "I shall lose sight of her, and yet she can tellme the truth. "

He was in one of those states of nervous excitement which engenderprodigies. He ran to the end of the Rue St. Lazare as rapidly as if hehad been a young man of twenty. 

Joy! He saw the blue brougham a short distance from him in the Rue duHavre, stopped in the midst of a block of carriages. 

"I have her, " said he to himself. He looked all about him, but there wasnot an empty cab to be seen. Gladly would he have cried, like Richardthe III. , "My kingdom for a cab!"

The brougham got out of the entanglement, and started off rapidlytowards the Rue Tronchet. The old fellow followed. 

He kept his ground. The brougham gained but little upon him. 

While running in the middle of the street, at the same time looking outfor a cab, he kept saying to himself: "Hurry on, old fellow, hurry on. When one has no brains, one must use one's legs. Why didn't you think toget this woman's address from Clergeot? You must hurry yourself, my oldfriend, you must hurry yourself! When one goes in for being a detective, one should be fit for the profession, and have the shanks of a deer. "

But he was losing ground, plainly losing ground. He was only halfwaydown the Rue Tronchet, and quite tired out; he felt that his legs couldnot carry him a hundred steps farther, and the brougham had almostreached the Madeleine. 

At last an open cab, going in the same direction as himself, passed by. He made a sign, more despairing than any drowning man ever made. Thesign was seen. He made a supreme effort, and with a bound jumped intothe vehicle without touching the step. 

"There, " he gasped, "that blue brougham, twenty francs!"

"All right!" replied the coachman, nodding. 

And he covered his ill-conditioned horse with vigorous blows, muttering, "A jealous husband following his wife; that's evident. Gee up!"

As for old Tabaret, he was a long time recovering himself, his strengthwas almost exhausted. 

For more than a minute, he could not catch his breath. They were soonon the Boulevards. He stood up in the cab leaning against the driver'sseat. 

"I don't see the brougham anywhere, " he said. 

"Oh, I see it all right, sir. But it is drawn by a splendid horse!"

"Yours ought to be a better one. I said twenty francs; I'll make itforty. "

The driver whipped up his horse most mercilessly, and growled, "It's nouse, I must catch her. For twenty francs, I would have let her escape;for I love the girls, and am on their side. But, fancy! Forty francs! Iwonder how such an ugly man can be so jealous. "

Old Tabaret tried in every way to occupy his mind with other matters. Hedid not wish to reflect before seeing the woman, speaking with her, andcarefully questioning her. 

He was sure that by one word she would either condemn or save her lover. 

"What! condemn Noel? Ah, well! yes. "

The idea that Noel was the assassin harassed and tormented him, andbuzzed in his brain, like the moth which flies again and again againstthe window where it sees a light. 

As they passed the Chaussee d'Antin, the brougham was scarcely thirtypaces in advance. The cab driver turned, and said: "But the Brougham isstopping. "

"Then stop also. Don't lose sight of it; but be ready to follow it againas soon as it goes off. "

Old Tabaret leaned as far as he could out of the cab. 

The young woman alighted, crossed the pavement, and entered a shop wherecashmeres and laces were sold. 

"There, " thought the old fellow, "is where the thousand franc notes go!Half a million in four years! What can these creatures do with the moneyso lavishly bestowed upon them? Do they eat it? On the altar of whatcaprices do they squander these fortunes? They must have the devil's ownpotions which they give to drink to the idiots who ruin themselvesfor them. They must possess some peculiar art of preparing and spicingpleasure; since, once they get hold of a man, he sacrifices everythingbefore forsaking them. "

The cab moved on once more, but soon stopped again. 

The brougham had made a fresh pause, this time in front of a curiosityshop. 

"The woman wants then to buy out half of Paris!" said old Tabaret tohimself in a passion. "Yes, if Noel committed the crime, it was shewho forced him to it. These are my fifteen thousand francs that she isfrittering away now. How long will they last her? It must have been formoney, then, that Noel murdered Widow Lerouge. If so, he is the lowest, the most infamous of men! What a monster of dissimulation and hypocrisy!And to think that he would be my heir, if I should die here of rage! Forit is written in my will in so many words, 'I bequeath to my son, NoelGerdy!' If he is guilty, there isn't a punishment sufficiently severefor him. But is this woman never going home?"

The woman was in no hurry. The weather was charming, her dressirresistible, and she intended showing herself off. She visited threeor four more shops, and at last stopped at a confectioner's, where sheremained for more than a quarter of an hour. 

The old fellow, devoured by anxiety, moved about and stamped in his cab. It was torture thus to be kept from the key to a terrible enigma by thecaprice of a worthless hussy! He was dying to rush after her, to seizeher by the arm, and cry out to her: "Home, wretched, creature, home atonce! What are you doing here? Don't you know that at this moment yourlover, he whom you have ruined, is suspected of an assassination? Home, then, that I may question you, that I may learn from you whether he isinnocent or guilty. For you will tell me, without knowing it. Ah! I haveprepared a fine trap for you! Go home, then, this anxiety is killingme!"

She returned to her carriage. It started off once more, passed up theRue de Faubourg Montmarte, turned into the Rue de Provence, depositedits fair freight at her own door, and drove away. 

"She lives here, " said old Tabaret, with a sigh of relief. 

He got out of the cab, gave the driver his forty francs, bade him wait, and followed in the young woman's footsteps. 

"The old fellow is patient, " thought the driver; "and the littlebrunette is caught. "

The detective opened the door of the concierge's lodge. 

"What is the name of the lady who just came in?" he demanded. 

The concierge did not seem disposed to reply. 

"Her name!" insisted the old man. 

The tone was so sharp, so imperative, that the concierge was upset. 

"Madame Juliette Chaffour, " he answered. 

"On what floor does she reside?"

"On the second, the door opposite the stairs. "

A minute later, the old man was waiting in Madame Juliette'sdrawing-room. Madame was dressing, the maid informed him, and would bedown directly. 

Tabaret was astonished at the luxury of the room. There was nothingflaring or coarse, or in bad taste. It was not at all like the apartmentof a kept woman. The old fellow, who knew a good deal about such things, saw that everything was of great value. The ornaments on the mantelpiecealone must have cost, at the lowest estimate, twenty thousand francs. 

"Clergeot, " thought he, "didn't exaggerate a bit. "

Juliette's entrance disturbed his reflections. 

She had taken off her dress, and had hastily thrown about her a looseblack dressing-gown, trimmed with cherry-coloured satin. Her beautifulhair, slightly disordered after her drive, fell in cascades about herneck, and curled behind her delicate ears. She dazzled old Tabaret. Hebegan to understand. 

"You wished, sir, to speak with me?" she inquired, bowing gracefully. 

"Madame, " replied M. Tabaret, "I am a friend of Noel Gerdy's, I may sayhis best friend, and--"

"Pray sit down, sir, " interrupted the young woman. 

She placed herself on a sofa, just showing the tips of her little feetencased in slippers matching her dressing-gown, while the old man satdown in a chair. 

"I come, madame, " he resumed, "on very serious business. Your presenceat M. Gerdy's--"

"Ah, " cried Juliette, "he already knows of my visit? Then he must employa detective. "

"My dear child--" began Tabaret, paternally. 

"Oh! I know, sir, what your errand is. Noel has sent you here to scoldme. He forbade my going to his house, but I couldn't help it. It'sannoying to have a puzzle for a lover, a man whom one knows nothingwhatever about, a riddle in a black coat and a white cravat, a sad andmysterious being--"

"You have been imprudent. "

"Why? Because he is going to get married? Why does he not admit itthen?"

"Suppose that it is not true. "

"Oh, but it is! He told that old shark Clergeot so, who repeated it tome. Any way, he must be plotting something in that head of his; for thelast month he has been so peculiar, he has changed so, that I hardlyrecognize him. "

Old Tabaret was especially anxious to know whether Noel had preparedan _alibi_ for the evening of the crime. For him that was the grandquestion. If he had, he was certainly guilty; if not, he might still beinnocent. Madame Juliette, he had no doubt, could enlighten him on thatpoint. 

Consequently he had presented himself with his lesson all prepared, hislittle trap all set. 

The young woman's outburst disconcerted him a little; but trusting tothe chances of conversation, he resumed. 

"Will you oppose Noel's marriage, then?"

"His marriage!" cried Juliette, bursting out into a laugh; "ah, the poorboy! If he meets no worse obstacle than myself, his path will be smooth. Let him marry by all means, the sooner the better, and let me hear nomore of him. "

"You don't love him, then?" asked the old fellow, surprised at thisamiable frankness. 

"Listen, sir. I have loved him a great deal, but everything has anend. For four years, I, who am so fond of pleasure, have passed anintolerable existence. If Noel doesn't leave me, I shall be obliged toleave him. I am tired of having a lover who is ashamed of me and whodespises me. "

"If he despises you, my pretty lady, he scarcely shows it here, " repliedold Tabaret, casting a significant glance about the room. 

"You mean, " said she rising, "that he spends a great deal of money onme. It's true. He pretends that he has ruined himself on my account;it's very possible. But what's that to me! I am not a grabbingwoman; and I would much have preferred less money and more regard. Myextravagance has been inspired by anger and want of occupation. M. Gerdytreats me like a mercenary woman; and so I act like one. We are quits. "

"You know very well that he worships you. "

"He? I tell you he is ashamed of me. He hides me as though I were somehorrible disease. You are the first of his friends to whom I have everspoken. Ask him how often he takes me out. One would think that mypresence dishonoured him. Why, no longer ago than last Tuesday, we wentto the theatre! He hired an entire box. But do you think that he satin it with me? Not at all. He slipped away and I saw no more of him thewhole evening. "

"How so? Were you obliged to return home alone?"

"No. At the end of the play, towards midnight, he deigned to reappear. We had arranged to go to the masked ball at the Opera and then to havesome supper. Ah, it was amusing! At the ball, he didn't dare to let downhis hood, or take off his mask. At supper, I had to treat him like aperfect stranger, because some of his friends were present. "

This, then, was the _alibi_ prepared in case of trouble. Juliette, hadshe been less carried away by her own feelings, would have noticed oldTabaret's emotion, and would certainly have held her tongue. He wasperfectly livid, and trembled like a leaf. 

"Well, " he said, making a great effort to utter the words, "the supper, I suppose, was none the less gay for that. "

"Gay!" echoed the young woman, shrugging her shoulders; "you do not seemto know much of your friend. If you ever ask him to dinner, take goodcare not to give him anything to drink. Wine makes him as merry as afuneral procession. At the second bottle, he was more tipsy than acork; so much so, that he lost nearly everything he had with him: hisovercoat, purse, umbrella, cigar-case--"

Old Tabaret couldn't sit and listen any longer; he jumped to his feetlike a raving madman. 

"Miserable wretch!" he cried, "infamous scoundrel! It is he; but I havehim!"

And he rushed out, leaving Juliette so terrified that she called hermaid. 

"Child, " said she, "I have just made some awful blunder, have let somesecret out. I am sure that something dreadful is going to happen; I feelit. That old rogue was no friend of Noel's, he came to circumvent me, to lead me by the nose; and he succeeded. Without knowing it I must havespoken against Noel. What can I have said? I have thought carefully, andcan remember nothing; but he must be warned though. I will write him aline, while you find a messenger to take it. "

Old Tabaret was soon in his cab and hurrying towards the Prefecture ofPolice. Noel an assassin! His hate was without bounds, as formerly hadbeen his confiding affection. He had been cruelly deceived, unworthilyduped, by the vilest and the most criminal of men. He thirsted forvengeance; he asked himself what punishment would be great enough forthe crime. 

"For he not only assassinated Claudine, " thought he, "but he so arrangedthe whole thing as to have an innocent man accused and condemned. Andwho can say that he did not kill his poor mother?"

He regretted the abolition of torture, the refined cruelty of the middleages: quartering, the stake, the wheel. The guillotine acts so quicklythat the condemned man has scarcely time to feel the cold steel cuttingthrough his muscles; it is nothing more than a fillip on the neck. Through trying so much to mitigate the pain of death, it has now becomelittle more than a joke, and might be abolished altogether. 

The certainty of confounding Noel, of delivering him up to justice, oftaking vengeance upon him, alone kept old Tabaret up. 

"It is clear, " he murmured, "that the wretch forgot his things at therailway station, in his haste to rejoin his mistress. Will they still befound there? If he has had the prudence to go boldly, and ask for themunder a false name, I can see no further proofs against him. MadameChaffour's evidence won't help me. The hussy, seeing her lover indanger, will deny what she has just told me; she will assert that Noelleft her long after ten o'clock. But I cannot think he has dared to goto the railway station again. "

About half way down the Rue Richelieu, M. Tabaret was seized with asudden giddiness. 

"I am going to have an attack, I fear, " thought he. "If I die, Noelwill escape, and will be my heir. A man should always keep his willconstantly with him, to be able to destroy it, if necessary. "

A few steps further on, he saw a doctor's plate on a door; he stoppedthe cab, and rushed into the house. He was so excited, so besidehimself, his eyes had such a wild expression, that the doctor was almostafraid of his peculiar patient, who said to him hoarsely: "Bleed me!"

The doctor ventured an objection; but already the old fellow had takenoff his coat, and drawn up one of his shirtsleeves. 

"Bleed me!" he repeated. "Do you want me to die?"

The doctor finally obeyed, and old Tabaret came out quieted andrelieved. 

An hour later, armed with the necessary power, and accompanied by apoliceman, he proceeded to the lost property office at the St. Lazarerailway station, to make the necessary search. It resulted as he hadexpected. He learnt that, on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, there hadbeen found in one of the second class carriages, of train No. 45, anovercoat and an umbrella. He was shown the articles; and he at oncerecognised them as belonging to Noel. In one of the pockets of theovercoat, he found a pair of lavender kid gloves, frayed and soiled, aswell as a return ticket from Chatou, which had not been used. 

In hurrying on, in pursuit of the truth, old Tabaret knew only too well, what it was. His conviction, unwillingly formed when Clergeot had toldhim of Noel's follies, had since been strengthened in a number of otherways. When with Juliette, he had felt positively sure, and yet, at thislast moment, when doubt had become impossible, he was, on beholding theevidence arrayed against Noel, absolutely thunderstruck. 

"Onwards!" he cried at last. "Now to arrest him. "

And, without losing an instant, he hastened to the Palais de Justice, where he hoped to find the investigating magistrate. Notwithstandingthe lateness of the hour, M. Daburon was still in his office. He wasconversing with the Count de Commarin, having related to him the factsrevealed by Pierre Lerouge whom the count had believed dead many yearsbefore. 

Old Tabaret entered like a whirlwind, too distracted to notice thepresence of a stranger. 

"Sir, " he cried, stuttering with suppressed rage, "we have discoveredthe real assassin! It is he, my adopted son, my heir, Noel!"

"Noel!" repeated M. Daburon, rising. And then in a lower tone, he added, "I suspected it. "

"A warrant is necessary at once, " continued the old fellow. "If we losea minute, he will slip through our fingers. He will know that he isdiscovered, if his mistress has time to warn him of my visit. Hasten, sir, hasten!"

M. Daburon opened his lips to ask an explanation; but the old detectivecontinued: "That is not all. An innocent man, Albert, is still inprison. "

"He will not be so an hour longer, " replied the magistrate; "a momentbefore your arrival, I had made arrangements to have him released. Wemust now occupy ourselves with the other one. "

Neither old Tabaret nor M. Daburon had noticed the disappearance of theCount de Commarin. On hearing Noel's name mentioned, he gained the doorquietly, and rushed out into the passage. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Noel had promised to use every effort, to attempt even the impossible, to obtain Albert's release. He in fact did interview the PublicProsecutor and some members of the bar, but managed to be repulsedeverywhere. At four o'clock, he called at the Count de Commarin's house, to inform his father of the ill success of his efforts. 

"The Count has gone out, " said Denis; "but if you will take the troubleto wait----"

"I will wait, " answered Noel. 

"Then, " replied the valet, "will you please follow me? I have thecount's orders to show you into his private room. "

This confidence gave Noel an idea of his new power. He was at home, henceforth, in that magnificent house, he was the master, the heir! Hisglance, which wandered over the entire room, noticed the genealogicaltree, hanging on the wall. He approached it, and read. 

It was like a page, and one of the most illustrious, taken from thegolden book of French nobility. Every name which has a place in ourhistory was there. The Commarins had mingled their blood with all thegreat families; two of them had even married daughters of royalty. Awarm glow of pride filled the advocate's heart, his pulse beat quicker, he raised his head haughtily, as he murmured, "Viscount de Commarin!"

The door opened. He turned, and saw the count entering. As Noel wasabout to bow respectfully, he was petrified by the look of hatred, anger, and contempt on his father's face. 

A shiver ran through his veins; his teeth chattered; he felt that he waslost. 

"Wretch!" cried the count. 

And, dreading his own violence, the old nobleman threw his cane into acorner. He was unwilling to strike his son; he considered him unworthyof being struck by his hand. Then there was a moment of mortal silence, which seemed to both of them a century. 

At the same time their minds were filled with thoughts, which wouldrequire a volume to transcribe. 

Noel had the courage to speak first. 

"Sir, " he began. 

"Silence!" exclaimed the count hoarsely; "be silent! Can it be, heavenforgive me! that you are my son? Alas, I cannot doubt it now! Wretch!you knew well that you were Madame Gerdy's son. Infamous villain! younot only committed this murder, but you did everything to cause aninnocent man to be charged with your crime! Parricide! you have alsokilled your mother. "

The advocate attempted to stammer forth a protest. 

"You killed her, " continued the count with increased energy, "if notby poison, at least by your crime. I understand all now; she was notdelirious this morning. But you know as well as I do what she wassaying. You were listening, and, if you dared to enter at that momentwhen one word more would have betrayed you, it was because you hadcalculated the effect of your presence. It was to you that she addressedher last word, 'Assassin!'"

Little by little, Noel had retired to the end of the room, and he stoodleaning against the wall, his head thrown back, his hair on end, hislook haggard. A convulsive trembling shook his frame. His face betrayeda terror most horrible to see, the terror of the criminal found out. 

"I know all, you see, " continued the count; "and I am not alone in myknowledge. At this moment, a warrant of arrest is issued against you. "

A cry of rage like a hollow rattle burst from the advocate's breast. Hislips, which were hanging through terror, now grew firm. Overwhelmed inthe very midst of his triumph, he struggled against this fright. He drewhimself up with a look of defiance. 

M. De Commarin, without seeming to pay any attention to Noel, approachedhis writing table, and opened a drawer. 

"My duty, " said he, "would be to leave you to the executioner who awaitsyou; but I remember that I have the misfortune to be your father. Sitdown; write and sign a confession of your crime. You will then findfire-arms in this drawer. May heaven forgive you!"

The old nobleman moved towards the door. Noel with a sign stopped him, and drawing at the same time a revolver from his pocket, he said: "Yourfire-arms are needless, sir; my precautions, as you see, are alreadytaken; they will never catch me alive. Only----"

"Only?" repeated the count harshly. 

"I must tell you, sir, " continued the advocate coldly, "that I do notchoose to kill myself--at least, not at present. "

"Ah!" cried M. De Commarin in disgust, "you are a coward!"

"No, sir, not a coward; but I will not kill myself until I am sure thatevery opening is closed against me, that I cannot save myself. "

"Miserable wretch!" said the count, threateningly, "must I then do itmyself?"

He moved towards the drawer, but Noel closed it with a kick. 

"Listen to me, sir, " said he, in that hoarse, quick tone, which men usein moments of imminent danger, "do not let us waste in vain words thefew moments' respite left me. I have committed a crime, it is true, andI do not attempt to justify it; but who laid the foundation of it, ifnot yourself? Now, you do me the favor of offering me a pistol. Thanks. I must decline it. This generosity is not through any regard for me. You only wish to avoid the scandal of my trial, and the disgrace whichcannot fail to reflect upon your name. "

The count was about to reply. 

"Permit me, " interrupted Noel imperiously. "I do not choose to killmyself; I wish to save my life, if possible. Supply me with the meansof escape; and I promise you that I will sooner die than be captured. Isay, supply me with means, for I have not twenty francs in the world. My last thousand franc note was nearly all gone the day when--youunderstand me. There isn't sufficient money at home to give my mother adecent burial. Therefore, I say, give me some money. "

"Never!"

"Then I will deliver myself up to justice, and you will see what willhappen to the name you hold so dear!"

The count, mad with rage, rushed to his table for a pistol. Noel placedhimself before him. 

"Oh, do not let us have any struggle, " said he coldly; "I am thestrongest. "

M. De Commarin recoiled. By thus speaking of the trial, of the scandaland of the disgrace, the advocate had made an impression upon him. 

For a moment hesitating between love for his name and his burning desireto see this wretch punished, the old nobleman stood undecided. 

Finally his feeling for his rank triumphed. 

"Let us end this, " he said in a tremulous voice, filled with the utmostcontempt; "let us end this disgraceful scene. What do you demand of me?"

"I have already told you, money, all that you have here. But make upyour mind quickly. "

On the previous Saturday the count had withdrawn from his bankers thesum he had destined for fitting up the apartments of him whom he thoughtwas his legitimate child. 

"I have eighty thousand francs here, " he replied. 

"That's very little, " said the advocate; "but give them to me. I willtell you though that I had counted on you for five hundred thousandfrancs. If I succeed in escaping my pursuers, you must hold at mydisposal the balance, four hundred and twenty thousand francs. Will youpledge yourself to give them to me at the first demand? I will find somemeans of sending for them, without any risk to myself. At that price, you need never fear hearing of me again. "

By way of reply, the count opened a little iron chest imbedded in thewall, and took out a roll of bank notes, which he threw at Noel's feet. 

An angry look flashed in the advocate's eyes, as he took one steptowards his father. 

"Oh! take care!" he said threateningly; "people who, like me, havenothing to lose are dangerous. I can yet give myself up, and----"

He stooped down, however, and picked up the notes. 

"Will you give me your word, " he continued, "to let me have the restwhenever I ask for them?"

"Yes. "

"Then I am going. Do not fear, I will be faithful to our compact, theyshall not take me alive. Adieu, my father! in all this you are the truecriminal, but you alone will go unpunished. Ah, heaven is not just. Icurse you!"

When, an hour later, the servants entered the count's room, they foundhim stretched on the floor with his face against the carpet, and showingscarcely a sign of life. 

On leaving the Commarin house, Noel staggered up the Rue del'Universite. 

It seemed to him that the pavement oscillated beneath his feet, and thateverything about him was turning round. His mouth was parched, his eyeswere burning, and every now and then a sudden fit of sickness overcamehim. 

But, at the same time, strange to relate, he felt an incredible relief, almost delight. It was ended then, all was over; the game was lost. Nomore anguish now, no more useless fright and foolish terrors, no moredissembling, no more struggles. Henceforth he had nothing more to fear. His horrible part being played to the bitter end, he could now lay asidehis mask and breathe freely. 

An irresistible weariness succeeded the desperate energy which, in thepresence of the count, had sustained his impudent arrogance. All thesprings of his organization, stretched for more than a week past farbeyond their ordinary limits, now relaxed and gave way. The fever whichfor the last few days had kept him up failed him now; and, with theweariness, he felt an imperative need of rest. He experienced a greatvoid, an utter indifference for everything. 

His insensibility bore a striking resemblance to that felt by personsafflicted with sea-sickness, who care for nothing, whom no sensationsare capable of moving, who have neither strength nor courage to think, and who could not be aroused from their lethargy by the presence of anygreat danger, not even of death itself. 

Had any one come to him then he would never have thought of resisting, nor of defending himself; he would not have taken a step to hidehimself, to fly, to save his head. 

For a moment he had serious thoughts of giving himself up, in order tosecure peace, to gain quiet, to free himself from the anxiety about hissafety. 

But he struggled against this dull stupor, and at last the reactioncame, shaking off this weakness of mind and body. 

The consciousness of his position, and of his danger, returned to him. He foresaw, with horror, the scaffold, as one sees the depth of theabyss by the lightning flashes. 

"I must save my life, " he thought; "but how?"

That mortal terror which deprives the assassin of even ordinary commonsense seized him. He looked eagerly about him, and thought he noticedthree or four passers-by look at him curiously. His terror increased. 

He began running in the direction of the Latin quarter without purpose, without aim, running for the sake of running, to get away, like Crime, as represented in paintings, fleeing under the lashes of the Furies. 

He very soon stopped, however, for it occurred to him that thisextraordinary behaviour would attract attention. 

It seemed to him that everything in him betokened the murderer; hethought he read contempt and horror upon every face, and suspicion inevery eye. 

He walked along, instinctively repeating to himself: "I must dosomething. "

But he was so agitated that he was incapable of thinking or of planninganything. 

When he still hesitated to commit the crime, he had said to himself; "Imay be discovered. " And with that possibility in view, he had perfecteda plan which should put him beyond all fear of pursuit. He would dothis and that; he would have recourse to this ruse, he would take thatprecaution. Useless forethought! Now, nothing he had imagined seemedfeasible. The police were seeking him, and he could think of no place inthe whole world where he would feel perfectly safe. 

He was near the Odeon theatre, when a thought quicker than a flash oflightning lit up the darkness of his brain. 

It occurred to him that as the police were doubtless already in pursuitof him, his description would soon be known to everyone, his whitecravat and well trimmed whiskers would betray him as surely as though hecarried a placard stating who he was. 

Seeing a barber's shop, he hurried to the door; but, when on the pointof turning the handle, he grew frightened. 

The barber might think it strange that he wanted his whiskers shavedoff, and supposing he should question him!

He passed on. 

He soon saw another barber's shop, but the same fears as before againprevented his entering. 

Gradually night had fallen, and, with the darkness, Noel seemed torecover his confidence and boldness. 

After this great shipwreck in port, hope rose to the surface. Why shouldhe not save himself? There had been many just such cases. He could go toa foreign country, change his name, begin his life over again, become anew man entirely. He had money; and that was the main thing. 

And, besides, as soon as his eighty thousand francs were spent, he hadthe certainty of receiving, on his first request, five or six times asmuch more. 

He was already thinking of the disguise he should assume, and of thefrontier to which he should proceed, when the recollection of Juliettepierced his heart like a red hot iron. 

Was he going to leave without her, going away with the certainty ofnever seeing her again? What! he would fly, pursued by all the policeof the civilized world, tracked like a wild beast, and she would remainpeaceably in Paris? Was it possible? For whom then had he committed thiscrime? For her. Who would have reaped the benefits of it? She. Was itnot just, then, that she should bear her share of the punishment?

"She does not love me, " thought the advocate bitterly, "she never lovedme. She would be delighted to be forever free of me. She will not regretme, for I am no longer necessary to her. An empty coffer is a uselesspiece of furniture. Juliette is prudent; she has managed to save anice little fortune. Grown rich at my expense, she will take some otherlover. She will forget me, she will live happily, while I--And I wasabout to go away without her!"

The voice of prudence cried out to him: "Unhappy man! to drag a womanalong with you, and a pretty woman too, is but to stupidly attractattention upon you, to render flight impossible, to give yourself uplike a fool. "

"What of that?" replied passion. "We will be saved or we will perishtogether. If she does not love me, I love her; I must have her! She willcome, otherwise--"

But how to see Juliette, to speak with her, to persuade her. To go toher house, was a great risk for him to run. The police were perhapsthere already. 

"No, " thought Noel; "no one knows that she is my mistress. It willnot be found out for two or three days and, besides, it would be moredangerous still to write. "

He took a cab not far from the Carrefour de l'Observatoire, and in alow tone told the driver the number of the house in the Rue de Provence, which had proved so fatal to him. Stretched on the cushions of the cab, lulled by its monotonous jolts, Noel gave no thought to the future, hedid not even think over what he should say to Juliette. No. He passedinvoluntarily in review the events which had brought on and hastened thecatastrophe, like a man on the point of death, reviews the tragedy orthe comedy of his life. 

Just one month before, ruined, at the end of his expedients andabsolutely without resources, he had determined, cost what it might, to procure money, so as to be able to continue to keep Madame Juliette, when chance placed in his hands Count de Commarin's correspondence. Not only the letters read to old Tabaret, and shown to Albert, but alsothose, which, written by the count when he believed the substitution anaccomplished fact, plainly established it. 

The reading of these gave him an hour of mad delight. 

He believed himself the legitimate son; but his mother soon undeceivedhim, told him the truth, proved to him by several letters she hadreceived from Widow Lerouge, called on Claudine to bear witness to it, and demonstrated it to him by the scar he bore. 

But a falling man never selects the branch he tries to save himself by. Noel resolved to make use of the letters all the same. 

He attempted to induce his mother to leave the count in his ignorance, so that he might thus blackmail him. But Madame Gerdy spurned theproposition with horror. 

Then the advocate made a confession of all his follies, laid bare hisfinancial condition, showed himself in his true light, sunk in debt; andhe finally begged his mother to have recourse to M. De Commarin. 

This also she refused, and prayers and threats availed nothing againsther resolution. For a fortnight, there was a terrible struggle betweenmother and son, in which the advocate was conquered. 

It was then that the idea of murdering Claudine occurred to him. 

The unhappy woman had not been more frank with Madame Gerdy thanwith others, so that Noel really thought her a widow. Therefore, hertestimony suppressed, who else stood in his way?

Madame Gerdy, and perhaps the count. He feared them but little. IfMadame Gerdy spoke, he could always reply: "After stealing my name foryour son, you will do everything in the world to enable him to keep it. "But how to do away with Claudine without danger to himself?

After long reflection, the advocate thought of a diabolical stratagem. 

He burnt all the count's letters establishing the substitution, and hepreserved only those which made it probable. 

These last he went and showed to Albert, feeling sure, that, shouldjustice ever discover the reason of Claudine's death, it would naturallysuspect he who appeared to have most interest in it. 

Not that he really wished Albert to be suspected of the crime, it wassimply a precaution. He thought that he could so arrange mattersthat the police would waste their time in the pursuit of an imaginarycriminal. 

Nor did he think of ousting the Viscount de Commarin and putting himselfin his place. His plan was simply this; the crime once committed, he would wait; things would take their own course, there would benegotiations, and ultimately he would compromise the matter at the priceof a fortune. 

He felt sure of his mother's silence, should she ever suspect him guiltyof the assassination. 

His plan settled, he decided to strike the fatal blow on the ShroveTuesday. 

To neglect no precaution, he, that very same evening, took Juliette tothe theatre, and afterwards to the masked ball at the opera. In casethings went against him, he thus secured an unanswerable _alibi_. 

The loss of his overcoat only troubled him for a moment. On reflection, he reassured himself, saying: "Pshaw! who will ever know?"

Everything had resulted in accordance with his calculations; it was, inhis opinion, a matter of patience. 

But when Madame Gerdy read the account of the murder, the unhappy womandivined her son's work, and, in the first paroxysms of her grief, shedeclared that she would denounce him. 

He was terrified. A frightful delirium had taken possession of hismother. One word from her might destroy him. Putting a bold face on it, however, he acted at once and staked his all. 

To put the police on Albert's track was to guarantee his own safety, to insure to himself, in the event of a probable success, Count deCommarin's name and fortune. 

Circumstances, as well as his own terror, increased his boldness and hisingenuity. 

Old Tabaret's visit occurred just at the right moment. 

Noel knew of his connection with the police, and guessed that the oldfellow would make a most valuable confidant. 

So long as Madame Gerdy lived, Noel trembled. In her delirium shemight betray him at any moment. But when she had breathed her last, hebelieved himself safe. He thought it all over, he could see no furtherobstacle in his way; he was sure he had triumphed. 

And now all was discovered, just as he was about to reach the goal ofhis ambition. But how? By whom? What fatality had resuscitated a secretwhich he had believed buried with Madame Gerdy?

But where is the use, when one is at the bottom of an abyss, of knowingwhich stone gave way, or of asking down what side one fell?

The cab stopped in the Rue de Provence. Noel leaned out of the door, hiseyes exploring the neighbourhood and throwing a searching glance intothe depths of the hall of the house. Seeing no one, he paid the farethrough the front window, before getting out of the cab, and, crossingthe pavement with a bound, he rushed up stairs. 

Charlotte, at sight of him, gave a shout of joy. 

"At last it is you, sir!" she cried. "Ah, madame has been expecting youwith the greatest impatience! She has been very anxious. "

Juliette expecting him! Juliette anxious!

The advocate did not stop to ask questions. On reaching this spot, he seemed suddenly to recover all his composure. He understood hisimprudence; he knew the exact value of every minute he delayed here. 

"If any one rings, " said he to Charlotte, "don't open the door. Nomatter what may be said or done, don't open the door!"

On hearing Noel's voice, Juliette ran out to meet him. He pushed hergently into the salon, and followed, closing the door. 

There for the first time she saw his face. 

He was so changed; his look was so haggard that she could not keep fromcrying out, "What is the matter?"

Noel made no reply; he advanced towards her and took her hand. 

"Juliette, " he demanded in a hollow voice, fastening his flashing eyesupon her, --"Juliette, be sincere; do you love me?"

She instinctively felt that something dreadful had occurred: sheseemed to breathe an atmosphere of evil; but she, as usual, affectedindifference. 

"You ill-natured fellow, " she replied, pouting her lips mostprovokingly, "do you deserve--"

"Oh, enough!" broke in Noel, stamping his feet fiercely. "Answer me, " hecontinued, bruising her pretty hands in his grasp, "yes, or no, --do youlove me?"

A hundred times had she played with her lover's anger, delighting toexcite him into a fury, to enjoy the pleasure of appeasing him with aword; but she had never seen him like this before. 

She had wronged him greatly; and she dared not complain of this hisfirst harshness. 

"Yes, I love you, " she stammered, "do you not know it?"

"Why?" replied the advocate, releasing her hands; "why? Because, ifyou love me you must prove it; if you love me, you must follow me atonce, --abandon everything. Come, fly with me. Time presses----"

The young girl was terrified. 

"Great heavens! what has happened?"

"Nothing, except that I have loved you too much, Juliette. When I foundI had no more money for your luxury, your caprices, I became wild. Toprocure money, I, --I committed a crime, --a crime; do you understand?They are pursuing me now. I must fly: will you follow me?"

Juliette's eyes grew wide with astonishment; but she doubted Noel. 

"A crime? You?" she began. 

"Yes, me! Would you know the truth? I have committed murder, anassassination. But it was all for you. "

The advocate felt that Juliette would certainly recoil from him inhorror. He expected that terror which a murderer inspires. He wasresigned to it in advance. He thought that she would fly from him;perhaps there would be a scene. She might, who knows, have hysterics;might cry out, call for succor, for help, for aid. He was wrong. 

With a bound, Juliette flew to him, throwing herself upon him, her armsabout his neck, and embraced him as she had never embraced him before. 

"Yes, I do love you!" she cried. "Yes, you have committed a crime formy sake, because you loved me. You have a heart. I never really knew youbefore!"

It had cost him dear to inspire this passion in Madame Juliette; butNoel never thought of that. 

He experienced a moment of intense delight: nothing appeared hopeless tohim now. 

But he had the presence of mind to free himself from her embrace. 

"Let us go, " he said; "the one great danger is, that I do not know fromwhence the attack comes. How they have discovered the truth is still amystery to me. "

Juliette remembered her alarming visitor of the afternoon; sheunderstood it all. 

"Oh, what a wretched woman I am!" she cried, wringing her hands indespair; "it is I who have betrayed you. It occurred on Tuesday, did itnot?"

"Yes, Tuesday. "

"Ah, then I have told all, without a doubt, to your friend, the old manI supposed you had sent, Tabaret!"

"Has Tabaret been here?"

"Yes; just a little while ago. "

"Come, then, " cried Noel, "quickly; it's a miracle that he hasn't beenback. "

He took her arm, to hurry her away; but she nimbly released herself. 

"Wait, " said she. "I have some money, some jewels. I will take them. "

"It is useless. Leave everything behind. I have a fortune, Juliette; letus fly!"

She had already opened her jewel box, and was throwing everything ofvalue that she possessed pell mell into a little travelling bag. 

"Ah, you are ruining me, " cried Noel, "you are ruining me!"

He spoke thus; but his heart was overflowing with joy. 

"What sublime devotion! She loves me truly, " he said to himself; "for mysake, she renounces her happy life without hesitation; for my sake, shesacrifices all!"

Juliette had finished her preparations, and was hastily tying on herbonnet, when the door-bell rang. 

"It is the police!" cried Noel, becoming, if possible, even more livid. 

The young woman and her lover stood as immovable as two statues, withgreat drops of perspiration on their foreheads, their eyes dilated, andtheir ears listening intently. A second ring was heard, then a third. 

Charlotte appeared walking on tip-toe. 

"There are several, " she whispered; "I heard them talking together. "

Grown tired of ringing, they knocked loudly on the door. The sound of avoice reached the drawing-room, and the word "law" was plainly heard. 

"No more hope!" murmured Noel. 

"Don't despair, " cried Juliette; "try the servants' staircase!"

"You may be sure they have not forgotten it. "

Juliette went to see, and returned dejected and terrified. She baddistinguished heavy foot-steps on the landing, made by some oneendeavouring to walk softly. 

"There must be some way of escape!" she cried fiercely. 

"Yes, " replied Noel, "one way. I have given my word. They are pickingthe lock. Fasten all the doors, and let them break them down; it willgive me time. "

Juliette and Charlotte ran to carry out his directions. Then Noel, leaning against the mantel piece, seized his revolver and pointed it athis breast. 

But Juliette, who had returned, perceiving the movement, threw herselfupon her lover, but so violently that the revolver turned aside andwent off. The shot took effect, the bullet entering Noel's stomach. Heuttered a frightful cry. 

Juliette had made his death a terrible punishment; she had prolonged hisagony. 

He staggered, but remained standing, supporting himself by the mantelpiece, while the blood flowed copiously from his wound. 

Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the revolver from his grasp. 

"You shall not kill yourself, " she cried, "I will not let you. You aremine; I love you! Let them come. What can they do to you? If theyput you in prison, you can escape. I will help you, we will bribe thejailors. Ah, we will live so happily together, no matter where, far awayin America where no one knows us!"

The outer door had yielded; the police were now picking the lock of thedoor of the ante-chamber. 

"Let me finish!" murmured Noel; "they must not take me alive!"

And, with a supreme effort, triumphing over his dreadful agony, hereleased himself, and roughly pushed Juliette away. She fell down nearthe sofa. 

Then, he once more aimed his revolver at the place where he felt hisheart beating, pulled the trigger and rolled to the floor. 

It was full time, for the police at that moment entered the room. 

Their first thought was, that before shooting himself, Noel had shot hismistress. They knew of cases where people had romantically desiredto quit this world in company; and, moreover, had they not heard tworeports? But Juliette was already on her feet again. 

"A doctor, " she cried, "a doctor! He can not be dead!"

One man ran out; while the others, under old Tabaret's direction, raisedthe body, and carried it to Madame Juliette's bedroom where they laid iton the bed. 

"For his sake, I trust his wounds are mortal!" murmured the olddetective, whose anger left him at the sight. "After all, I loved him asthough he were my own child; his name is still in my will!"

Old Tabaret stopped. Noel just then uttered a groan, and opened hiseyes. 

"You see that he will live!" cried Juliette. 

The advocate shook his head feebly, and, for a moment, he tossed aboutpainfully on the bed, passing his right hand first under his coat, andthen under his pillow. He even succeeded in turning himself half-waytowards the wall and then back again. 

Upon a sign, which was at once understood, someone placed another pillowunder his head. Then in a broken, hissing voice, he uttered a few words:"I am the assassin, " he said. "Write it down, I will sign it; it willplease Albert. I owe him that at least. "

While they were writing, he drew Juliette's head close to his lips. 

"My fortune is beneath the pillow, " he whispered. "I give it all toyou. "

A flow of blood rose to his mouth; and they all thought him dead. But hestill had strength enough to sign his confession, and to say jestinglyto M. Tabaret, "Ah, ha, my friend, so you go in for the detectivebusiness, do you! It must be great fun to trap one's friends in person!Ah, I have had a fine game; but, with three women in the play, I wassure to lose. "

The death struggle commenced, and, when the doctor arrived, he couldonly announce the decease of M. Noel Gerdy, advocate. 

CHAPTER XX. 

Some months later, one evening, at old Mademoiselle de Goello's house, the Marchioness d'Arlange, looking ten years younger than when we sawher last, was giving her dowager friends an account of the wedding ofher granddaughter Claire, who had just married the Viscount Albert deCommarin. 

"The wedding, " said she, "took place on our estate in Normandy, withoutany flourish of trumpets. My son-in-law wished it; for which I think heis greatly to blame. The scandal raised by the mistake of which he hadbeen the victim, called for a brilliant wedding. That was my opinion, and I did not conceal it. But the boy is as stubborn as his father, which is saying a good deal; he persisted in his obstinacy. And myimpudent granddaughter, obeying beforehand her future husband, alsosided against me. It is, however, of no consequence; I defy anyone tofind to-day a single individual with courage enough to confess that heever for an instant doubted Albert's innocence. I have left the youngpeople in all the bliss of the honeymoon, billing and cooing like apair of turtle doves. It must be admitted that they have paid dearlyfor their happiness. May they be happy then, and may they have lots ofchildren, for they will have no difficulty in bringing them up and inproviding for them. I must tell you that, for the first time in hislife, and probably for the last, the Count de Commarin has behaved likean angel! He has settled all his fortune on his son, absolutely all. Heintends living alone on one of his estates. I am afraid the poor dearold man will not live long. I am not sure that he has entirely recoveredfrom that last attack. Anyhow, my grandchild is settled, and grandlytoo. I know what it has cost me, and how economical I shall have to be. But I do not think much of those parents who hesitate at any pecuniarysacrifice when their children's happiness is at stake. "

The marchioness forgot, however, to state that, a week before thewedding, Albert freed her from a very embarrassing position, and haddischarged a considerable amount of her debts. 

Since then, she had not borrowed more than nine thousand francs of him;but she intends confessing to him some day how greatly she is annoyed byher upholsterer, by her dressmaker, by three linen drapers, and by fiveor six other tradesmen. 

Ah, well, she is all the same a worthy woman; she never says anythingagainst her son-in-law!

Retiring to his father's home in Poitou, after sending in hisresignation, M. Daburon has at length found rest; forgetfulness willcome later on. His friends do not yet despair of inducing him to marry. 

Madame Juliette is quite consoled for the loss of Noel. The eightythousand francs hidden by him under the pillow were not taken from her. They are nearly all gone now though. Before long the sale of a handsomesuite of furniture will be announced. 

Old Tabaret, alone, is indelibly impressed. After having believed in theinfallibility of justice, he now sees every where nothing but judicialerrors. 

The ex-amateur detective doubts the very existence of crime, andmaintains that the evidence of one's senses proves nothing. Hecirculates petitions for the abolition of capital punishment, and hasorganised a society for the defence of poor and innocent prisoners.