"Cesarine!" Mme. de Thaller called, in a voice which sounded atonce like a prayer and a threat.

"I am going to dress myself, mamma," she answered.

"Come back!""So that you can scold me if I am not ready when you want to go?

Thank you, no.""I command you to come back, Cesarine."No answer. She was far already.

Mme. de Thaller closed the door of the little parlor, and returningto take a seat by M. de Traggers,"What a singular girl!" she said.

Meantime he was watching in the glass what was going on in theother room. The suspicious-looking man was there still, and alone.

A servant had brought him pen, ink and paper; and he was writingrapidly.

"How is it that they leave him there alone?" wondered Marius.

And he endeavored to find upon the features of the baroness ananswer to the confused presentiments which agitated his brain. Butthere was no longer any trace of the emotion which she had manifestedwhen taken unawares. Having had time for reflection, she hadcomposed for herself an impenetrable countenance. Somewhat surprisedat M. de Traggers silence,"I was saying," she repeated, "that Cesarine is a strange girl."Still absorbed by the scene in the grand parlor,"Strange, indeed!" he answered.

"And such is," said the baroness with a sigh, "the result of M. deThaller's weakness, and above all of my own.""We have no child but Cesarine; and it was natural that we shouldspoil her. Her fancy has been, and is still, our only law. Shehas never had time to express a wish: she is obeyed before she hasspoken."She sighed again, and deeper than the first time. "You have justseen," she went on, "the results of that insane education. And yetit would not do to trust appearances. Cesarine, believe me, is notas extravagant as she seems. She possesses solid qualities, - ofthose which a man expects of the woman who is to be his wife."Without taking his eyes off the glass,"I believe you madame," said M. de Traggers.

"With her father, with me especially, she is capricious, wilful,and violent; but, in the hands of the husband of her choice, shewould be like wax in the hands of the modeler."The man in the parlor had finished his letter, and, with anequivocal smile, was reading it over.

"Believe me, madame," replied M. de Traggers, "I have perfectlyunderstood how much naive boasting there was in all that Mlle.

Cesarine told me.""Then, really, you do not judge her too severely?""Your heart has not more indulgence for her than my own.""And yet it is from you that her first real sorrow comes.""From me?"The baroness shook her head in a melancholy way, to convey an ideaof her maternal affection and anxiety.

"Yes, from you, my dear marquis," she replied, "from you alone.

On the very day you entered this house, Cesarine's whole naturechanged."Having read his letter over, the man in the grand parlor had foldedit, and slipped it into his pocket, and, having left his seat,seemed to be waiting for something. M. de Traggers was following,in the glass, his every motion, with the most eager curiosity. Andnevertheless, as he felt the absolute necessity of saying something,were it only to avoid attracting the attention of the baroness,"What!" he said, "Mlle. Cesarine's nature did change, then?""In one night. Had she not met the hero of whom every girl dreams?

- a man of thirty, bearing one of the oldest names in France."She stopped, expecting an answer, a word, an exclamation. But, asM. de Traggers said nothing,"Did you never notice any thing then?" she asked.

"Nothing.""And suppose I were to tell you myself, that my poor Cesarine, alas!

- loves you?"M. de Traggers started. Had he been less occupied with the personagein the grand parlor, he would certainly not have allowed theconversation to drift in this channel. He understood his mistake;and, in an icy tone,"Permit me, madame," he said, "to believe that you are jesting.""And suppose it were the truth.""It would make me unhappy in the extreme.""Sir!""For the reason which I have already told you, that I love Mlle.

Gilberte Favoral with the deepest and the purest love, and thatfor the past three years she has been, before God, my affiancedbride."Something like a flash of anger passed over Mme. de Thaller's eyes.

"And I," she exclaimed, - "I tell you that this marriage is senseless.""I wish it were still more so, that I might the better show toGilberte how dear she is to me."Calm in appearance, the baroness was scratching with her nails thesatin of the chair on which she was sitting.

"Then," she went on, "your resolution is settled.""Irrevocably.""Still, now, come, between us who are no longer children, supposeM. de Thaller were to double Cesarine's dowry, to treble it?"An expression of intense disgust contracted the manly features ofMarius de Tregars.

"Ah! not another word, madame," he interrupted.

There was no hope left. Mme. de Thaller fully realized it by thetone in which he spoke. She remained pensive for over a minute,and suddenly, like a person who has finally made up her mind, sherang.

A footman appeared.

"Do what I told you!" she ordered.

And as soon as the footman had gone, turning to M. de Tregars,"Alas!" she said, "who would have thought that I would curse the daywhen you first entered our house?"But, whilst, she spoke, M. de Traggers noticed in the glass theresult of the order she had just given.

The footman walked into the grand parlor, spoke a few words; and atonce the man with the alarming countenance put on his hat and wentout.

"This is very strange!" thought M. de Traggers. Meantime, thebaroness was going on,"If your intentions are to that point irrevocable, how is it thatyou are here? You have too much experience of the world not tohave understood, this morning, the object of my visit and of myallusions."Fortunately, M. de Traggers' attention was no longer drawn by theproceedings in the next room. The decisive moment had come: thesuccess of the game he was playing would, perhaps, depend uponhis coolness and self-command.

"It is because I did understand, madame, and even better than yousuppose, that I am here.""Indeed!""I came, expecting to deal with M. de Thaller alone. I have beencompelled, by what has happened, to alter my intentions. It isto you that I must speak first."Mme. de Thaller continued to manifest the same tranquil assurance;but she stood up. Feeling the approach of the storm, she wishedto be up, and ready to meet it.

"You honor me," she said with an ironical smile.

There was, henceforth, no human power capable of turning Marius deTregars from the object he had in view.

"It is to you I shall speak," he repeated, "because, after you haveheard me, you may perhaps judge that it is your interest to join mein endeavoring to obtain from your husband what I ask, what Idemand, what I must have."With an air of surprise marvelously well simulated, if it was notreal, the baroness was looking at him.

"My father," he proceeded to say, "the Marquis de Tregars, was oncerich: he had several millions. And yet when I had the misfortuneof losing him, three years ago, he was so thoroughly ruined, thatto relieve the scruples of his honor, and to make his death easier,I gave up to his creditors all I had in the world. What had becomeof my father's fortune? What filter had been administered to himto induce him to launch into hazardous speculations, - he an oldBreton gentleman, full, even to absurdity, of the most obstinateprejudices of the nobility? That's what I wished to ascertain.""And now, madame, I - have ascertained."She was a strong-minded woman, the Baroness de Thaller. She hadhad so many adventures in her life, she had walked on the very edgeof so many precipices, concealed so many anxieties, that danger was,as it were, her element, and that, at the decisive moment of analmost desperate game, she could remain smiling like those oldgamblers whose face never betrays their terrible emotion at themoment when they risk their last stake. Not a muscle of her facemoved; and it was with the most imperturbable calm that she said,"Go on, I am listening: it must be quite interesting."That was not the way to propitiate M. de Traggers.

He resumed, in a brief and harsh tone,"When my father died, I was young. I did not know then what I havelearned since, - that to contribute to insure the impunity of knavesis almost to make one's self their accomplice. And the victim whosays nothing and submits, does contribute to it. The honest man,on the contrary, should speak, and point out to others the trapinto which he has fallen, that they may avoid it."The baroness was listening with the air of a person who is compelledby politeness to hear a tiresome story.

"That is a rather gloomy preamble," she said. M. de Tregars tookno notice of the interruption.

"At all times," he went on, "my father seemed careless of hisaffairs: that affectation, he thought, was due to the name he bore.

But his negligence was only apparent. I might mention things ofhim that would do honor to the most methodical tradesman. He had,for instance, the habit of preserving all the letters of anyimportance which he received. He left twelve or fifteen boxes fullof such. They were carefully classified; and many bore upon theirmargin a few notes indicating what answer had been made to them."Half suppressing a yawn,"That is order," said the baroness, "if I know any thing about it.""At the first moment, determined not to stir up the past, Iattached no importance to those letters; and they would certainlyhave been burnt, but for an old friend of the family, the Count deVillegre, who had them carried to his own house. But later, actingunder the influence of circumstances which it would be too long toexplain to you, I regretted my apathy; and I thought that I should,perhaps, find in that correspondence something to either dissipateor justify certain suspicions which had occurred to me.""So that, like a respectful son, you read it?" M. de Tregars bowedceremoniously.

"I believe," he said, "that to avenge a father of the imposture ofwhich he was the victim during his life, is to render homage to hismemory. Yes, madame, I read the whole of that correspondence, andwith an interest which you will readily understand. I had already,and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when inthe package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris,certain letters attracted my attention. They were written uponcoarse paper, in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt.

They were signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.

Some gave the address, 'Rue des Bergers, No. 3, Paris-Grenelle.'

"Those letters left me no doubt upon what had taken place. Myfather had met a young working-girl of rare beauty: he had taken afancy to her; and, as he was tormented by the fear of being lovedfor his money alone, he had passed himself off for a poor clerk inone of the departments.""Quite a touching little love-romance," remarked the baroness.

But there was no impertinence that could affect Marius de Tregars'

coolness.

"A romance, perhaps," he said, "but in that case a money-romance,not a love-romance. This Phrasie or Marquise de Javelle, announcesin one of her letters, that in February, 1853, she has given birthto a daughter, whom she has confided to some relatives of hers inthe south, near Toulouse. It was doubtless that event whichinduced my father to acknowledge who he was. He confesses thathe is not a poor clerk, but the Marquis de Tregars, having anincome of over a hundred thousand francs. At once the tone ofthe correspondence changes. The Marquise de Javelle has a stupidtime where she lives; the neighbors reproach her with her fault;work spoils her pretty hands. Result: less than two weeks afterthe birth of her daughter, my father hires for his pretty mistressa lovely apartment, which she occupies under the name of Mme. Devil;she is allowed fifteen hundred francs a month, servants, horses,carriage."Mme. de Thaller was giving signs of the utmost impatience. Withoutpaying any attention to them, M. de Tregars proceeded,"Henceforth free to see each other daily, my father and his mistresscease to write. But Mme. Devil does not waste her time. During aspace of less than eight months, from February to September, sheinduces my father to dispose - not in her favor, she is toodisinterested for that, but in favor of her daughter - of a sumexceeding five hundred thousand francs. In September, thecorrespondence is resumed. Mme. Devil discovers that she is nothappy, and acknowledges it in a letter, which shows, by its improvedwriting and more correct spelling, that she has been taking lessons.

"She complains of her precarious situation: the future frightens her:

she longs for respectability. Such is, for three months, theconstant burden of her correspondence. She regrets the time whenshe was a working girl: why has she been so weak? Then, at last,in a note which betrays long debates and stormy discussions, sheannounces that she has an unexpected offer of marriage; a finefellow, who,, if she only had two hundred thousand francs, wouldgive his name to herself and to her darling little daughter. Fora long time my father hesitates; but she presses her point withsuch rare skill, she demonstrates so conclusively that this marriagewill insure the happiness of their child, that my father yields atlast, and resigns himself to the sacrifice. And in a memorandumon the margin of a last letter, he states that he has just giventwo hundred thousand francs to Mme. Devil; that he will never seeher again; and that he returns to live in Brittany, where he wishes,by the most rigid economy, to repair the breach he has just madein his fortune.""Thus end all these love-stories," said Mme. de Thaller in ajesting tone.

"I beg your pardon: this one is not ended yet. For many years, myfather kept his word, and never left our homestead of Tregars. Butat last he grew tired of his solitude, and returned to Paris. Didhe seek to see his former mistress again? I think not. I supposethat chance brought them together; or else, that, being aware of hisreturn, she managed to put herself in his way. He found her morefascinating, than ever, and, according to what she wrote him, richand respected; for her husband had become a personage. She wouldhave been perfectly happy, she added, had it been possible for herto forget the man whom she had once loved so much, and to whom sheowed her position.

"I have that letter. The elegant hand, the style, and the correctorthography, express better than any thing else the transformationsof the Marquise de Javelle. Only it is not signed. The littleworking-girl has become prudent: she has much to lose, and fears tocompromise herself.

"A week later, in a laconic note, apparently dictated by anirresistible passion, she begs my father to come to see her at herown house. He does so, and finds there a little girl, whom hebelieves to be his own child, and whom he at once begins to idolize.

"And that's all. Again he falls under the charm. He ceases tobelong to himself: his former mistress can dispose, at her pleasure,of his fortune and of his fate.

"But see now what bad luck! The husband takes a notion to becomejealous of my father's visits. In a letter which is a masterpieceof diplomacy, the lady explains her anxiety.

'"He has suspicions,' she writes; 'and to what extremities might henot resort, were he to discover the truth!' And with infinite artshe insinuates that the best way to justify his constant presenceis to associate himself with that jealous husband.

"It is with childish haste that my father jumps at the suggestion.

But money is needed. He sells his lands, and everywhere announcesthat he has great financial ideas, and that he is going to increasehis fortune tenfold.

"There he is now, partner of his former mistress's husband, engagedin speculations, director of a company. He thinks that he is doingan excellent business: he is convinced that he is making lots ofmoney. Poor honest man! They prove to him, one morning, that heis ruined, and, what is more, compromised. And this is made tolook so much like the truth, that I interfere myself, and pay thecreditors. We were ruined; but honor was safe. A few weeks later,my father died broken-hearted."Mme. de Thaller half rose from her seat with a gesture whichindicated the joy of escaping at last a merciless bore. A glancefrom M. de Traggers riveted her to her seat, freezing upon her lipsthe jest she was about to utter.

"I have not done yet," he said rudely.

And, without suffering .any interruption,"From this correspondence," he resumed, "resulted the flagrant,irrefutable proof of a shameful intrigue, long since suspected bymy old friend, General Count de Villegre, it became evident to methat my poor father had been most shamefully imposed upon by thatmistress, so handsome and so dearly loved, and, later, despoiledby the husband of that mistress. But all this availed me nothing.

Being ignorant of my father's life and connections, the lettersgiving neither a name nor a precise detail, I knew not whom toaccuse. Besides, in order to accuse, it is necessary to have, atleast, some material proof."The baroness had resumed her seat; and every thing about her - herattitude, her gestures, the motion of her lips-seemed to say,"You are my guest. Civility has its demands; but really you abuseyour privileges."M. de Traggers went on,"At this moment I was still a sort of savage, wholly absorbed inmy experiments, and scarcely ever setting foot outside mylaboratory. I was indignant; I ardently wished to find and topunish the villains who had robbed us: but I knew not how to goabout it, nor in what direction to seek information. The wretcheswould, perhaps, have gone unpunished, but for a good and worthy man,now a commissary of police, to whom I once rendered a slight service,one night, in a riot, when he was close pressed by some half-dozenrascals. I explained the situation to him: he took much interestin it, promised his assistance, and marked out my line of conduct."Mme. de Thaller seemed restless upon her seat.

"I must confess," she began, "that I am not wholly mistress of mytime. I am dressed, as you see: I have to go out."If she had preserved any hope of adjourning the explanation whichshe felt coming, she must have lost it when she heard the tone inwhich M. de Tregars interrupted her.

"You can go out to-morrow."And, without hurrying,"Advised, as I have just told you," he continued, "and assisted bythe experience of a professional man, I went first to No. 3, Ruedes Bergers, in Grenelle. I found there some old people, theforeman of a neighboring factory and his wife, who had been livingin the house for nearly twenty-five years. At my first question,they exchanged a glance, and commenced laughing. They rememberedperfectly the Marquise de Javelle, which was but a nickname for ayoung and pretty laundress, whose real name was Euphrasie Taponnet.

She had lived for eighteen months on the same landing as themselves:

she had a lover, who passed himself off for a clerk, but who was,in fact, she had told them, a very wealthy nobleman. They addedthat she had given birth to a little girl, and that, two weeks latershe had disappeared, and they had never heard a word from her. WhenI left them, they said to me, 'If you see Phrasie, ask her if sheever knew old Chandour and his wife. I am sure she'll remember us.'"For the first time Mme. de Thaller shuddered slightly; but it wasalmost imperceptible.

"From Grenelle," continued M. de Traggers, "I went to the housewhere my father's mistress had lived under the name of Mme. Devil.

I was in luck. I found there the same concierge as in 1853. Assoon as I mentioned Mme. Devil, she answered me that she had not inthe least forgotten her, but, on the contrary, would know her amonga thousand. She was, she said, one of the prettiest little womenshe had ever seen, and the most generous tenant. I understood thehint, handed her a couple of napoleons, and heard from her everything she knew on the subject. It seemed that this pretty Mme.

Devil had, not one lover, but two, - the acknowledged one, who wasthe master, and footed the bills; and the other an anonymous one,who went out through the back-stairs, and who did not pay, on thecontrary. The first was called the Marquis de Tregars: of thesecond, she had never known but the first name, Frederic. Itried to ascertain what had become of Mme. Devil; but the worthyconcierge swore to me that she did not know.

"One morning, like a person who is going abroad, or who wishes tocover up her tracks, Mme. Devil had sent for a furniture-dealer,and a dealer in second-hand clothes, and had sold them every thingshe had, going away with nothing but a little leather satchel, inwhich were her jewels and her money."The Baroness de Thaller still kept a good countenance. Afterexamining her for a moment, with a sort of eager curiosity, Mariusde Tregars went on,"When I communicated this information to my friend, the commissaryof police, he shook his head. 'Two years ago,' he told me, 'Iwould have said, that's more than we want to find those people; forthe public records would have given us at once the key of thisenigma. But we have had the war and the Commune; and the books ofrecord have been burnt up. Still we must not give up. A lasthope remains; and I know the man who is capable of realizing it.'

"Two days after, he brought me an excellent fellow, named VictorChupin, in whom I could have entire confidence; for he wasrecommended to me by one of the men whom I like and esteem the most,the Duke de Champdoce. Giving up all idea of applying at thevarious mayors' offices, Victor Chupin, with the patience and thetenacity of an Indian following a scent, began beating about thedistricts of Grenelle, Vargirard, and the Invalids. And not invain; for, after a week of investigations he brought me a nurse,residing Rue de l'Universite, who remembered perfectly having onceattended, on the occasion of her confinement, a remarkably prettyyoung woman, living in the Rue des Bergers, and nicknamed theMarquise de Javelle. And as she was a very orderly woman, who atall times had kept a very exact account of her receipts, she broughtme a little book in which I read this entry: 'For attending EuphrasieTaponnet, alias the Marquise de Javelle (a girl), one hundred francs.'

And this is not all. This woman informed me, moreover, that she hadbeen requested to present the child at the mayor's office, and thatshe had been duly registered there under the names of EuphrasieCesarine Taponnet, born of Euphrasie Taponnet, laundress, and anunknown father. Finally she placed at my disposal her account-bookand her testimony."Taxed beyond measure; the energy of the baroness was beginning tofail her; she was turning livid under her rice-powder. Still inthe same icy tone,"You can understand, madame," said Marius de Tregars, "that thiswoman's testimony, together with the letters which are in mypossession, enables me to establish before the courts the exactdate of the birth of a daughter whom my father had of his mistress.

But that's nothing yet. With renewed zeal, Victor Chupin hadresumed his investigations. He had undertaken the examination ofthe marriage-registers in all the parishes of Paris, and, as earlyas the following week, he discovered at Notre Dame des Lorettes theentry of the marriage of Euphrasie Taponnet with Frederic deThaller."Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started upviolently and livid, and with a haggard look.

"It's false!" she began in a choking voice.

A smile of ironical pity passed over Marius' lips.

"Five minutes' reflection will prove to you that it is useless todeny," he interrupted. "But wait. In the books of that same church,Victor Chupin has found registered the baptism of a daughter of M.

and Mme de Thaller, bearing the same names as the first one,- Euphrasie Cesarine."With a convulsive motion the baroness shrugged her shoulder.

"What does all that prove?" she said.

"That proves, madame, the well-settled intention of substitutingone child for another; that proves that my father was imprudentlydeceived when he was made to believe that the second Cesarine washis daughter, the daughter in whose favor he had formerly disposedof over five hundred thousand francs; that proves that there issomewhere in the world a poor girl who has been basely forsaken byher mother, the Marquise de Javelle, now become the Baroness deThaller."Beside herself with terror and anger,"That is an infamous lie!" exclaimed the baroness. M. de Tregarsbowed.

"The evidence of the truth of my statements," he said, "I shallfind at Louveciennes, and at the Hotel des Folies, Boulevard duTemple, Paris."Night had come. A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placedupon the mantelpiece. He was not all together one minute in thelittle parlor; but that one minute was enough to enable the Marquisede Thaller to recover her coolness, and to collect her ideas. Whenthe footman retired, she had made up her mind, with the resolutepromptness of a person accustomed to perilous situations. She gaveup the discussion, and, drawing near to M. de Traggers,"Enough allusions," she said: "let us speak frankly, and face toface now. What do you want?"But the change was too sudden not to arouse Marius's suspicions.

"I want a great many things," he replied.

"Still you must specify.""Well, I claim first the five hundred thousand francs which myfather had settled upon his daughter, - the daughter whom you castoff.""And what next?""I want besides, my own and my father's fortune, of which we havebeen robbed by M. de Thaller, with your assistance, madame.""Is that all, at least?"M. de Tregars shook his head.

"That's nothing yet," he replied.

"Oh!""We have now to say something of Vincent Favoral's affairs."An attorney who is defending the interests of a client is neithercalmer nor cooler than Mme. de Thaller at this moment.

"Do the affairs of my husband's cashier concern me, then?" she saidwith' a shade of irony.

"Yes, madame, very much.""I am glad to hear it.""I know it from excellent sources, because, on my return fromLouveciennes, I called in the Rue du Cirque, where I saw one ZelieCadelle."He thought that the baroness would at least start on hearing thatname. Not at all. With a look of profound astonishment,"Rue du Cirque," she repeated, like a person who is making aprodigious effort of memory, - "Rue du Cirque! Zelie Cadelle!

Really, I do not understand."But, from the glance which M. de Traggers cast upon her, she musthave understood that she would not easily draw from him theparticulars which he had resolved not to tell.

"I believe, on the contrary," he uttered, "that you understandperfectly.""Be it so, if you insist upon it. What do you ask for Favoral?""I demand, not for Favoral, but for the stockholders who have beenimpudently defrauded, the twelve millions which are missing fromthe funds of the Mutual Credit."Mme. de Thaller burst out laughing.

"Only that?" she said.

"Yes, only that!""Well, then, it seems to me that you should present your reclamationsto M. Favoral himself. You have the right to run after him.""It is useless, for the reason that it is not he, the poor fool!

who has carried off the twelve millions.""Who is it, then?""M. le Baron de Thaller, no doubt."With that accent of pity which one takes to reply to an absurdproposition, - " You are mad, my poor marquis," said Mme. de Thaller.

"You do not think so.""But suppose I should refuse to do any thing more?"He fixed upon her a glance in which she could read an irrevocabledetermination; and slowly,"I have a perfect horror of scandal," he replied, "and, as youperceive, I am trying to arrange every thing quietly between us.

But, if I do not succeed thus, I must appeal to the courts.""Where are your proofs?""Don't be afraid: I have proofs to sustain all my allegations."The baroness had stretched herself comfortably in her arm-chair.

"May we know them?" she inquired.

Marius was getting somewhat uneasy in presence of Mme. de Thaller'simperturbable assurance. What hope had she? Could she see somemeans of escape from a situation apparently so desperate? Determinedto prove to her that all was lost, and that she had nothing to dobut to surrender,"Oh! I know, madame," he replied, "that you have taken yourprecautions. But, when Providence interferes, you see, humanforesight does not amount to much. See, rather, what happens inregard to your first daughter, - the one you had when you werestill only Marquise de Javelle."And briefly he called to her mind the principal incidents of Mlle.

Lucienne's life from the time that she had left her with the poorgardeners at Louveciennes, without giving either her name or heraddress, - the injury she had received by being run over by Mme. deThaller's carriage; the long letter she had written from thehospital, begging for assistance; her visit to the house, and hermeeting with the Baron de Thaller; the effort to induce her toemigrate to America; her arrest by means of false information, andher escape, thanks to the kind peace-officer; the attempt upon heras she was going home late one night; and, finally, her imprisonmentafter the Commune, among the petroleuses, and her release throughthe interference of the same honest friend."And, charging her with the responsibility of all theseinfamous acts, he paused for an answer or a protest.

And, as Mme. de Thaller said nothing,"You are looking at me, madame, and wondering how I have discoveredall that. A single word will explain it all. The peace-officerwho saved your daughter is precisely the same to whom it was oncemy good fortune to render a service. By comparing notes, we havegradually reached the truth, - reached you, madame. Will youacknowledge now that I have more proofs than are necessary to applyto the courts?"Whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not condescend to discuss.

"What then?" she said coldly.

But M. de Traggers was too much on his guard to expose himself, bycontinuing to speak thus, to reveal the secret of his designs.

Besides, whilst he was thoroughly satisfied as to the manoeuvresused to defraud his father he had, as yet, but presumptions on whatconcerned Vincent Favoral.

"Permit me not to say another word, madame," he replied. "I havetold you enough to enable you to judge of the value of my weapons."She must have felt that she could not make him change his mind, forshe rose to go.

"That is sufficient," she uttered. "I shall reflect; and to-morrowI shall give you an answer."She started to go; but M. de Traggers threw himself quickly betweenher and the door.

"Excuse me," he said; "but it is not to-morrow that I want an answer:

it is to-night, this instant!"Ah, if she could have annihilated him with a look.

"Why, this is violence," she said in a voice which betrayed theincredible effort she was making to control herself.

"It is imposed upon me by circumstances, madame.""You would be less exacting, if my husband were here."He must have been within hearing; for suddenly the door opened, andhe appeared upon the threshold. There are people for whom theunforeseen does not exist, and whom no event can disconcert. Havingventured every thing, they expect every thing. Such was the Baronde Thaller. With a sagacious glance he examined his wife and M. deTraggers; and in a cordial tone,"We are quarreling here?" he said.

"I am glad you have come!" exclaimed the baroness.

"What is the matter?""The matter is, that M. de Traggers is endeavoring to take an odiousadvantage of some incidents of our past life.""There's woman's exaggeration for you!" he said laughing.

And, holding out his hand to Marius,"Let me make your peace - for you, my dear marquis," he said: "that'swithin the province of the husband." But, instead of taking hisextended hand, M. de Tregars stepped back.

"There is no more peace possible, sir, I am an enemy.

"An enemy!" he repeated in a tone of surprise which was wonderfullywell assumed, if it was not real.

"Yes," interrupted the baroness; "and I must speak to you at once,Frederic. Come: M. de Traggers will wait for you."And she led her husband into the adjoining room, not without firstcasting upon Marius a look of burning and triumphant hatred.

Left alone, M. de Traggers sat down. Far from annoying him, thissudden intervention of the manager of the Mutual Credit seemed tohim a stroke of fortune. It spared him an explanation more painfulstill than the first, and the unpleasant necessity of having toconfound a villain by proving his infamy to him.

"And besides," he thought, "when the husband andthe wife have consulted with each other, they will ac-knowledge that they cannot resist, and that it is best tosurrender." The deliberation was brief. In less than tenminutes, M. de Thaller returned alone. He was pale;and his face expressed well the grief of an honest manwho discovers too late that he has misplaced his confidence.

"My wife has told me all, sir," he began.

M. de Tregars had risen. "Well?" he asked.

"You see me distressed. Ah, M. le Marquis! how could I ever expectsuch a thing from you? - you, whom I thought I had the right to lookupon as a friend. And it is you, who, when a great misfortunebefalls me, attempts to give me the finishing stroke. It is you whowould crush me under the weight of slanders gathered in the gutter."M. de Tregars stopped him with a gesture.

"Mme. de Thaller cannot have correctly repeated my words to you,else you would not utter that word 'slander.'""She has repeated them to me without the least change.""Then she cannot have told you the importance of the proofs I havein my hands."But the Baron persisted, as Mlle. Cesarine would have said, to "doit up in the tender style.""There is scarcely a family," he resumed, " in which there is notsome one of those painful secrets which they try to withhold fromthe wickedness of the world. There is one in mine. Yes, it istrue, that before our marriage, my wife had had a child, whompoverty had compelled her to abandon. We have since done everythingthat it was humanly possible to find that child, but without success.

It is a great misfortune, which has weighed upon our life; but it isnot a crime. If, however, you deem it your interest to divulge oursecret, and to disgrace a woman, you are free to do so: I cannotprevent you. But I declare it to you, that fact is the only thingreal in your accusations. You say that your father has been dupedand defrauded. From whom did you get such an idea?

"From Marcolet, doubtless, a man without character, who has becomemy mortal enemy since the day when he tried a sharp game on me, andcame out second best. Or from Costeclar, perhaps, who does notforgive me for having refused him my daughter's hand, and who hatesme because I know that he committed forgery once, and that he wouldbe in prison but for your father's extreme indulgence. Well,Costeclar and Marcolet have deceived you. If the Marquis de Tregarsruined himself, it is because he undertook a business that he knewnothing about, and speculated right and left. It does not takelong to sink a fortune, even without the assistance of thieves.

"As to pretend that I have benefitted by the embezzlements of mycashier that is simply stupid; and there can be no one to suggestsuch a thing, except Jottras and Saint Pavin, two scoundrels whomI have had ten times the opportunity to send to prison and who werethe accomplices of Favoral. Besides, the matter is in the hands ofjustice; and I shall prove in the broad daylight of the court-room,as I have already done in the office of the examining judge, that,to save the Mutual Credit, I have sacrificed more than half myprivate fortune."Tired of this speech, the evident object of which was to lead himto discuss, and to betray himself,"Conclude, sir," M. de Traggers interrupted harshly. Still in thesame placid tone,"To conclude is easy enough," replied the baron. "My wife has toldme that you were about to marry the daughter of my old cashier, - avery handsome girl, but without a sou. She ought to have a dowry.""Sir!""Let us show our hands. I am in a critical position: you know it,and you are trying to take advantage of it. Very well: we can stillcome to an understanding. What would you say, if I were to give toMlle. Gilberte the dowry I intended for my daughter?"All M. de Traggers' blood rushed to his face.

"Ah, not another word!" he exclaimed with a gesture of unprecedentedviolence. But, controlling himself almost at once,"I demand," he added, "my father's fortune. I demand that youshould restore to the Mutual Credit Company the twelve millionswhich have been abstracted.""And if not?""Then I shall apply to the courts."They remained for a moment face to face, looking into each other'seyes. Then,"What have you decided?" asked M. de Traggers.

Without perhaps, suspecting that his offer was a new insult,"I will go as far as fifteen hundred thousand francs," replied M.

de Thaller, "and I pay cash.""Is that your last word?""It is.""If I enter a complaint, with the proofs in my hands,you are lost.""We'll see about that."To insist further would have been puerile.

"Very well, we'll see, then," said M. de Traggers. But as hewalked out and got into his cab, which had been waiting for him atthe door, he could not help wondering what gave the Baron deThaller so much assurance, and whether he was not mistaken in hisconjectures.

It was nearly eight o'clock, and Maxence, Mme. Favoral and Mlle.

Gilberte must have been waiting for him with a feverish impatience;but he had eaten nothing since morning, and he stopped in front ofone of the restaurants of the Boulevard.

He had just ordered his dinner, when a gentleman of a certain age,but active and vigorous still, of military bearing, wearing amustache, and a van-colored ribbon at his buttonhole, came to takea seat at the adjoining table.

In less than fifteen minutes M. de Traggers had despatched a bowlof soup and a slice of beef, and was hastening out, when his footstruck his neighbor's foot, without his being able to understandhow it had happened.

Though fully convinced that it was not his fault, he hastened toexcuse himself. But the other began to talk angrily, and so loud,that everybody turned around.

Vexed as he was, Marius renewed his apologies.

But the other, like those cowards who think they have found agreater coward than themselves, was pouring forth a torrent ofthe grossest insults.

M. de Traggers was lifting his hand to administer a well-deservedcorrection, when suddenly the scene in the grand parlor of theThaller mansion came back vividly to his mind. He saw again, asin the glass, the ill-looking man listening, with an anxious look,to Mme. de Thaller's propositions, and afterwards sitting down towrite.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, a multitude of circumstances occurringto his mind, which had escaped him at the moment.

And, without further reflection, seizing his adversary by thethroat, he threw him over on the table, holding him down with hisknee.

"I am sure he must have the letter about him," he said to thepeople who surrounded him.

And in fact he did take from the side-pocket of the villain a letter,which he unfolded, and commenced reading aloud,"I am waiting for you, my dear major, come quick, for the thing ispressing, - a troublesome gentleman who is to be made to keep quiet.

It will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust, and for us theoccasion to divide a round amount.""And, that's why he picked a quarrel with me," added M. de Traggers.

Two Waiters had taken hold of the villain, who was strugglingfuriously, and wanted to surrender him to the police.

"What's the use?" said Marius. " I have his letter: that's enough.

The police will find him when they want him."And, getting back into his cab,"Rue St. Gilles," he ordered, "and lively, if possible."VIIIIn the Rue St. Giles the hours were dragging, slow and gloomy.

After Maxence had left to go and meet M. de Tregars, Mme. Favoraland her daughter had remained alone with M. Chapelain, and had beencompelled to bear the brunt of his wrath, and to hear hisinterminable complaints.

He was certainly an excellent man, that old lawyer, and too just tohold Mlle. Gilberte or her mother responsible for Vincent Favoral'sacts. He spoke the truth when he assured them that he had for thema sincere affection, and that they might rely upon his devotion.

But he was losing a hundred and sixty thousand francs; and a manwho loses such a large sum is naturally in bad humor, and not muchdisposed to optimism.

The cruellest enemies of the poor women would not have torturedthem so mercilessly as this devoted friend.

He spared them not one sad detail of that meeting at the MutualCredit office, from which he had just come. He exaggerated theproud assurance of the manager, and the confiding simplicity of thestockholders. "That Baron de Thaller," he said to them, "iscertainly the most impudent scoundrel and the cleverest rascal Ihave ever seen. You'll see that he'll get out of it with cleanhands and full pockets. Whether or hot he has accomplices, Vincentwill be the scapegoat. We must make up our mind to that."His positive intention was to console Mme. Favoral and Gilberte.

Had he sworn to drive them to distraction, he could not havesucceeded better.

"Poor woman!" he said, "what is to become of you? Maxence is agood and honest fellow, I am sure, but so weak, so thoughtless, sofond of pleasure! He finds it difficult enough to get along byhimself. Of what assistance will he be to you?"Then came advice.

Mme. Favoral, he declared, should not hesitate to ask for aseparation, which the tribunal would certainly grant. For wantof this precaution, she would remain all her life under the burdenof her husband's debts, and constantly exposed to the annoyances ofthe creditors.

And always he wound up by saying,"Who could ever have expected such a thing from Vincent, - a friendof twenty years' standing! A hundred and sixty thousand francs!

Who in the world can be trusted hereafter?"Big tears were rolling slowly down Mme. Favoral's withered cheeks.

But Mlle. Gilberte was of those for whom the pity of others is theworst misfortune and the most acute suffering.

Twenty times she was on the point of exclaiming,"Keep your compassion, sir: we are neither so much to be pitied norso much forsaken as you think. Our misfortune has revealed to us atrue friend, - one who does not speak, but acts."At last, as twelve o'clock struck, M. Chapelain withdrew, announcingthat he would return the next day to get the news, and to bringfurther consolation.

"Thank Heaven, we are alone at last!" said Mlle. Gilberte.

But they had not much peace, for all that.

Great as had been the noise of Vincent Favoral's disaster, it hadnot reached at once all those who had intrusted their savings to him.

All day long, the belated creditors kept coming in; and the scenesof the morning were renewed on a smaller scale. Then legal summonsesbegan to pour in, three or four at a time. Mme. Favoral was losingall courage.

"What disgrace!" she groaned. "Will it always be so hereafter?"And she exhausted herself in useless conjectures upon the causes ofthe catastrophe; and such was the disorder of her mind, that sheknew not what to hope and what to fear, and that from one minute toanother she wished for the most contradictory things.

She would have been glad to hear that her husband was safe out ofthe country, and yet she would have deemed herself less miserable,had she known that he was hid somewhere in Paris.

And obstinately the same questions returned to her lips,"Where is he now? What is he doing? What is he thinking about?

How can he leave us without news? Is it possible that it is awoman who has driven him into the precipice? And, if so, who isthat woman?"Very different were Mlle. Gilberte's thoughts.

The great calamity that befell her family had brought about thesudden realization of her hopes. Her father's disaster had givenher an opportunity to test the man she loved; and she had foundhim even superior to all that she could have dared to dream. Thename of Favoral was forever disgraced;, but she was going to bethe wife of Marius, Marquise de Tregars.

And, in the candor of her loyal soul, she accused herself of nottaking enough interest in her mother's grief, and reproachedherself for the quivers of joy which she felt within her.

"Where is Maxence?" asked Mme. Favoral.

"Where is M. de Tregars? Why have they told us nothing of theirprojects?""They will, no doubt, come home to dinner," replied Mlle. Gilberte.

So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to theservant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heartwas beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between hermother and her brother.

At about six o'clock, the bell rang violently.

"There he is!" said the young girl, rising to her feet.

But no: it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme.

Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at oneo'clock precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d'Avranchel,at his office in the Palace of Justice.

The poor woman came near fainting.

"What can this judge want with me? It ought to be forbidden tocall a wife to testify against her husband," she said.

"M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma," said Mlle.

Gilberte.

Meantime, seven o'clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxencenor M. de Tregars had come.

Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, alittle before nine, they heard steps in the hall.

Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.

He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues ofthe day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections whichhad been suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearlybeen the victim a few moments since.

"Maxence is not here?" he asked at once.

"We have not seen him," answered Mlle. Gilberte.

He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.

"What is the matter again, good God!" she exclaimed.

"Nothing, madame," said M. de Tregars, - "nothing that should alarmyou. Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from Maxence, I was tohave met him here. Since he has not come, he must have beendetained. I know where; and I will ask your permission to run andjoin him."He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and,taking his hand,"How kind of you!" she began, "and how can we ever sufficientlythank you?"He interrupted her.

"You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, thereis more selfishness than you think. It is my own cause, more thanyours, that I am defending. Any way, every thing is going on well."And, without giving any more explanations, he started again. Hehad no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hoteldes Folies to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day's work.

And, though somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on secondthought, he was not surprised.

It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going. Nowthat he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he wasnot sorry to meet Mlle Lucienne.

In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.

In front of the Fortins' narrow corridor a dozen idlers werestanding, talking.

M. de Tregars was listening as he went along.

"It is a frightful accident," said one, - "such a pretty girl, andso young too!""As to me," said another, "it is the driver that I pity the most;for after all, if that pretty miss was in that carriage, it was forher own pleasure; whereas, the poor coachman was only attending tohis business."A confused presentiment oppressed M. de Tregars' heart. Addressinghimself to one of those worthy citizens,"Have you heard any particulars?

Flattered by the confidence,"Certainly I have," he replied. "I didn't see the thing with myown proper eyes; but my wife did. It was terrible. The carriage,a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction of theMadeleine. The horses had run away; and already there had been anaccident in the Place du Chateau d'Eau, where an old woman had beenknocked down. Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the toy-shop,which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches intothe wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachmanis thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside, - a verypretty girl, who lives in this hotel."Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed throughthe narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies. At the moment whenhe reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.

Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill,the poor fellow looked like a madman. Noticing M. de Tregars,"Ah, my friend!" he exclaimed, "what misfortune'""Lucienne?""Dead, perhaps. The doctor will not answer for her recovery. Iam going to the druggist's to get a prescription."He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kindprotection had hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne. He was comingout of the little room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins usedfor an office, bedroom, and dining-room.

He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, hepressed his hand, saying, "Well, you know?""Yes.""It is my fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified. I knewso well that Mlle. Lucienne's existence was threatened, I was sofully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she wentout riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman's livery, whotook his seat by the side of the coachman. To-day my man was sobusy, that I said to myself, 'Bash, for once!' And behold theconsequences!"It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.

It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius andthe commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of longintercourse, real esteem, and common hopes.

"It is not an accident, then," remarked M. de Tregars.

"The coachman has spoken, doubtless?""No: the wretch was killed on the spot."And, without waiting for another question,"But don't let us stay here," said the commissary.

"Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins'

office."The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment withMlle. Lucienne.

"Do me the favor to go and take a walk for about fifteen minutes,"said the commissary to him. "We have to talk, this gentleman andmyself."Humbly, without a word, and like a man who does himself justice,M. Fortin slipped off.

And at once, - "It is clear, M. le Marquis, it is manifest, that acrime has been committed. Listen, and judge for yourself. I wasjust rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was calledour poor Lucienne's accident. Without even changing my clothes, Iran. The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces. Twopolicemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped. Iinquire. I learn that Lucienne, picked up by Maxence, has been ableto drag herself as far as the Hotel des Folies, and that the driverhas been taken to the nearest drug-store. Furious at my ownnegligence, and tormented by vague suspicions, it is to the druggist'sthat I go first, and in all haste. The driver was in a backroom,stretched on a mattress.

"His head having struck the angle of the curbstone, his skull wasbroken; and he had just breathed his last. It was, apparently, theannihilation of the hope which I had, of enlightening myself byquestioning this man. Nevertheless, I give orders to have himsearched. No paper is discovered upon him to establish his identity;but, in one of the pockets of his pantaloons, do you know what theyfind? Two bank-notes of a thousand francs each, carefully wrappedup in a fragment of newspaper."M. de Tregars had shuddered.

"What a revelation!" he murmured.

It was not to the present circumstance that he applied that word.

But the commissary naturally mistook him.

"Yes," he went on, "it was a revelation. To me these two thousandfrancs were worth a confession: they could only be the wages of acrime. So, without losing a moment, I jump into a cab, and drive toBrion's. Everybody was upside down, because the horses had justbeen brought back. I question; and, from the very first words, thecorrectness of my presumption is demonstrated to me. The wretch whohad just died was not one of Brion's coachmen. This is what hadhappened. At two o'clock, when the carriage ordered by M. VanKlopen was ready to go for Mlle. Lucienne, they had been compelledto send for the driver and the footman, who had forgotten themselvesdrinking in a neighboring wine-shop, with a man who had called tosee them in the morning. They were slightly under the influence ofwine, but not enough so to make it imprudent to trust them withhorses; and it was even probable that the fresh air would sober themcompletely. They had then started; but, they had not gone very far,for one of their comrades had seen them stop the carriage in frontof a wine-shop, and join there the same individual with whom theyhad been drinking all the morning""And who was no other than the man who was killed?""Wait. Having obtained this information, I get some one to take meto the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman fromBrion's. They were there still; and they are shown to me in aprivate room, lying on the floor, fast asleep. I try to wake themup, but in vain. I order to water them freely; but a pitcher ofwater thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utteran inarticulate groan. I guess at once what they have taken. Isend for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant forexplanations. It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me.

They tell me, that, at about two o'clock, a man came in the shop,who stated that he was employed at Brion's, and who ordered threeglasses for himself and two comrades, whom he was expecting.

"A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driverand the footman leave it to come in. They were in a great hurry,they said, and only wished to take one glass. They do take three,one after another; then they order a bottle. They were evidentlyforgetting their horses, which they bad given to hold to acommissionaire. Soon the man proposes a game. The others accept;and here they are, settled in the back-room, knocking on the tablefor sealed wine. The game must have lasted at least twenty minutes.

At the end of that time, the man who had come in first appeared,looking very much annoyed, saying that it was very unpleasant, thathis comrades were dead drunk, that they will miss their work, andthat the boss, who is anxious to please his customers, willcertainly dismiss them. Although he had taken as much, and morethan the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after reflecting fora moment, - I have an idea,' he says. 'Friends should help eachother, shouldn't they? I am going to take the coachman's livery,and drive in his stead. I happen to know the customer they weregoing after. She is a very kind old lady, and I'll tell her astory to explain the absence of the footman.'

"Convinced that the man is in Brion's employment, they have noobjection to offer to this fine project.

"The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets upon the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return forhis comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and thatdoubtless they will be sober by that time.

M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissarynot to be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information.

Already he was going on,"Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived. I showhim my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessedcorrectly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of oneof those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob theirvictims. A potion, which he administers to them by forcing theirteeth open with a knife, draws them from this lethargy. They opentheir eyes, and soon are in condition to reply to my questions.

They are furious at the trick that has been played upon them; butthey do not know the man. They saw him they swear to me, for thefirst time that very morning; and they are ignorant even of hisname."There was no doubt possible after such complete explanations. Thecommissary had seen correctly, and he proved it.

It was not of a vulgar accident that Mlle. Lucienne had just beenthe victim, but of a crime laboriously conceived, and executed withunheard-of audacity, - of one of those crimes such as too many arecommitted, whose combinations, nine times out of ten, set asideeven a suspicion, and foil all the efforts of human justice.

M. de Tregars knew now what had taken place, as clearly as if hehad himself received the confession of the guilty parties.

A man had been found to execute that perilous programme, - to makethe horses run away, and then to run into some heavy wagon. Thewretch was staking his life on that game; it being evident thatthe light carriage must be smashed in a thousand pieces. But hemust have relied upon his skill and his presence of mind, to avoidthe shock, to jump off safe and sound'; whilst Mlle. Lucienne,thrown upon the pavement, would probably be killed on the spot.

The event had deceived his expectations, and he had been the victimof his rascality; but his death was a misfortune.

"Because now," resumed the commissary, "the thread is broken in ourhands which would infallibly have led us to the truth. Who is itthat ordered the crime, and paid for it? We know it, since we knowwho benefits by the crime. But that is not sufficient. Justicerequires something more than moral proofs. Living, this banditwould have spoken. His death insures the impunity of the wretchesof whom he was but the instrument.""Perhaps," said M. Tregars.

And at the same time he took out of his pocket, and showed the notefound in Vincent Favoral's pocket-book, - that note, so obscure theday before, now so terribly clear.

"I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through withthat Van Klopen affair: there is the danger."The commissary of police cast but a glance upon it, and, replyingto the objections of his old experience rather more than addressinghimself to M. de Tregars,"There can be no doubt about it," he murmured. "It is to the crimecommitted to-day that these pressing recommendations relate; and,directed as they are to Vincent Favoral, they attest his complicity.

It was he who had charge of finishing the Van Klopen affair; in otherwords, to get rid of Lucienne. It was he, I'd wager my head, whohad treated with the false coachman."He remained for over a minute absorbed in his own thoughts, then,"But who is the author of these recommendations to Vincent Favoral?

Do you know that, M. le Marquis?" he said.

They looked at each other; and the same name rose to their lips,"The Baroness de Thaller!"This name, however, they did not utter.

The commissary had placed himself under the gasburner which gavelight to the Fortin's office; and, adjusting his glasses, he wasscrutinizing the note with the most minute attention, studying thegrain and the transparency of the paper, the ink, and thehandwriting. And at last,"This note," he declared, "cannot constitute a proof against itsauthor: I mean an evident, material proof, such as we require toobtain from a judge an order of arrest."And, as Marius was protesting,"This note," he insisted, "is written with the left hand, withcommon ink, on ordinary foolscap paper, such as is found everywhere.

Now all left-hand writings look alike. Draw your own conclusions."But M. de Tregars did not give it up yet.

"Wait a moment," he interrupted.

And briefly, though with the utmost exactness, he began telling hisvisit to the Thaller mansion, his conversation with Mlle. Cesarine,then with the baroness, and finally with the baron himself.

He described in the most graphic manner the scene which had takenplace in the grand parlor between Mme. de Thaller and a worse thansuspicious-looking man, - that scene, the secret of which had beenrevealed to him in its minutest details by the looking-glass. Itsmeaning was now as clear as day.

This suspicious-looking man had been one of the agents in arrangingthe intended murder: hence the agitation of the baroness when shehad received his card, and her haste to join him. If she hadstarted when he first spoke to her, it was because he was tellingher of the successful execution of the crime. If she had afterwardsmade a gesture of joy, it was because he had just informed her thatthe coachman had been killed at the same time, and that she foundherself thus rid of a dangerous accomplice.

The commissary of police shook his head.

"All this is quite probable," he murmured; "but that's all."Again M. de Tregars stopped him.

"I have not done yet," he said.

And he went on saying how he had been suddenly and brutallyassaulted by an unknown man in a restaurant; how he had collaredthis abject scoundrel, and taken out of his pocket a crushing letter,which left no doubt as to the nature of his mission.

The commissary's eyes were sparkling,"That letter! " he exclaimed, "that letter! And, as soon as he hadlooked over it,"Ah! This time," he resumed, "I think that we have somethingtangible. 'A troublesome gentleman to keep quiet,' - the Marquisde Tregars, of course, who is on the right track. 'It will be foryou the matter of a sword-thrust.' Naturally, dead men tell notales. 'It will be for us the occasion of dividing a round amount.'

An honest trade, indeed!"The good man was rubbing his hand with all his might.

"At last we have a positive fact," he went on, - "a foundation uponwhich to base our accusations. Don't be uneasy. That letter isgoing to place into our hands the scoundrel who assaulted you, - whowill make known the go-between, who himself will not fail tosurrender the Baroness de Thaller. Lucienne shall be avenged. Ifwe could only now lay our hands on Vincent Favoral! But we'll findhim yet. I set two fellows after him this afternoon, who have asuperior scent, and understand their business."He was here interrupted by Maxence, who was returning all out ofbreath, holding in his hand the medicines which he had gone after.

"I thought that druggist would never get through," he said.

And regretting to have remained away so long, feeling uneasy, andanxious to return up stairs,"Don't you wish to see Lucienne?" he added, addressing himself to M.

de Tregars rather more than to the commissary.

For all answer, they followed him at once.

A cheerless-looking place was Mlle. Lucienne's room, without anyfurniture but a narrow iron bedstead, a dilapidated bureau, fourstraw-bottomed chairs, and a small table. Over the bed, and atthe windows, were white muslin curtains, with an edging that hadonce been blue, but had become yellow from repeated washings.

Often Maxence had begged his friend to take a more comfortablelodging, and always she had refused.

"We must economize," she would say. "This room does well enoughfor me; and, besides, I am accustomed to it."When M. de Tregars and the commissary walked in, the estimablehostess of the Hotel des Folies was kneeling in front of the fire,preparing some medicine.

Hearing the footsteps, she got up, and, with a finger upon herlips,"Hush!" she said. "Take care not to wake her up!" The precautionwas useless.

"I am not asleep," said Mlle. Lucienne in a feeble voice. " Whois there?

"I," replied Maxence, advancing towards the bed.

It was only necessary to see the poor girl in order to understandMaxence's frightful anxiety. She was whiter than the sheet; andfever, that horrible fever which follows severe wounds, gave to hereyes a sinister lustre.

"But you are not alone," she said again.

"I am with him, my child," replied the commissary. "I come to begyour pardon for having so badly protected you."She shook her head with a sad and gentle motion.

"It was myself who lacked prudence," she said; "for to-day, whileout, I thought I noticed something wrong; but it looked so foolishto be afraid! If it had not happened to-day, it would have happenedsome other day. The villains who have been pursuing me for yearsmust be satisfied now. They will soon be rid of me.""Lucienne," said Maxence in a sorrowful tone M. de Tregars nowstepped forward.

"You shall live, mademoiselle," he uttered in a grave voice. "Youshall live to learn to love life."And, as she was looking at him in surprise,"You do not know me," he added.

Timidly, and as if doubting the reality,"You," she said, "the Marquis de Tregars!""Yes, mademoiselle, your brother."Had he had the control of events, Marius de Tregars would probablynot have been in such haste to reveal this fact.

But how could he control himself in presence of that bed where apoor girl was, perhaps, about to die, sacrificed to the terrorsand to the cravings of the miserable woman who was her mother, - todie at twenty, victim of the basest and most odious of crimes? Howcould he help feeling an intense pity at the sight of thisunfortunate young woman who had endured every thing that a humanbeing can suffer, whose life had been but a long and painfulstruggle, whose courage had risen above all the woes of adversity,and who had been able to pass without a stain through the mud andmire of Paris.

Besides, Marius was not one of those men who mistrust their firstimpulse, who manifest their emotion only for a purpose, who reflectand calculate before giving themselves up to the inspirations oftheir heart.

Lucienne was the daughter of the Marquis de Tregars: of that he wasabsolutely certain. He knew that the same blood flowed in his veinsand in hers; and he told her so.

He told her so, above all, because he believed her in danger; andhe wished, were she to die, that she should have, at least, thatsupreme joy. Poor Lucienne! Never had she dared to dream of suchhappiness. All her blood rushed to her cheeks; and, in a voicevibrating with the most intense emotion,"Ah, now, yes," she uttered, "I would like to live."The commissary of police, also, felt moved.

"Do not be alarmed, my child," he said in his kindest tone.

"Before two weeks you will be up. M. de Tregars is a greatphysician."In the mean time, she had attempted to raise herself on her pillow;and that simple effort had wrung from her a cry of anguish.

"Dear me! How I do suffer!""That's because you won't keep quiet, my darling," said Mme. Fortinin a tone of gentle scolding. "Have you forgotten that the doctorhas expressly forbidden you to stir?

Then taking aside the commissary, Maxence, and M. de Tregars, sheexplained to them how imprudent it was to disturb Mlle. Lucienne'srest. She was very ill, affirmed the worthy hostess; and her advicewas, that they should send for a sick-nurse as soon as possible.

She would have been extremely happy, of course, to spend the nightby the side of her dear lodger; but, unfortunately, she could notthink of it, the hotel requiring all her time and attention.

Fortunately, however, she knew in the neighborhood a widow, a veryhonest woman, and without her equal in taking care of the sick.

With an anxious and beseeching look, Maxence was consulting M. deTregars. In his eyes could be read the proposition that was burningupon his lips,"Shall I not go for Gilberte?"But that proposition he had no time to express. Though they hadbeen speaking very low, Mlle. Lucienne had heard.

"I have a friend," she said, "who would certainly be willing to situp with me."They all went up to her.

"What friend," inquired the commissary of police.

"You know her very well, sir. It is that poor girl who had takenme home with her at Batignolles when I left the hospital, who cameto my assistance during the Commune, and whom you helped to getout of the Versailles prisons.

"Do you know what has become of her?""Only since yesterday, when I received a letter from her, a veryfriendly letter. She writes that she has found money to set up adressmaking establishment, and that she is relying upon me to beher forewoman. She is going to open in the Rue St. Lazare; but,in the mean time, she is stopping in the Rue du Cirque."M. de Tregars and Maxence had started slightly.

"What is your friend's name? " they inquired at once.

Not being aware of the particulars of the two young men's visit tothe Rue du Cirque, the commissary of police could not understandthe cause of their agitation.

"I think," he said, "that it would hardly be proper now to send forthat girl.""It is to her alone, on the contrary, that we must resort,"interrupted M. de Tregars.

And, as he had good reasons to mistrust Mme. Fortin, he took thecommissary outside the room, on the landing; and there, in a fewwords, he explained to him that this Zelie was precisely the samewoman whom they had found in the Rue du Cirque, in that sumptuousmansion where Vincent Favoral, under the simple name of Vincent, hadbeen living, according to the neighbors, in such a princely style.

The commissary of police was astounded. Why had he not known allthis sooner? Better late than never, however.

"Ah! you are right, M. le Marquis, a hundred times right!" hedeclared. "This girl must evidently know Vincent Favoral's secret,the key of the enigma that we are vainly trying to solve. Whatshe would not tell to you, a stranger, she will tell to Lucienne,her friend."Maxence offered to go himself for Zelie Cadelle.

No," answered Marius. " If she should happen to know you, shewould mistrust you, and would refuse to come."It was, therefore, M. Fortin who was despatched to the Rue duCirque, and who went off muttering, though he had received fivefrancs to take a carriage, and five francs for his trouble.

"And now," said the commissary of police to Maxence, "we must bothof us get out of the way. I, because the fact of my being acommissary would frighten Mme. Cadelle; you because, being VincentFavoral's son, your presence would certainly prove embarrassingto her."And so they went out; but M. de Tregars did not remain long alonewith Mlle. Lucienne. M. Fortin had had the delicacy not to tarryon the way.

Eleven o'clock struck as Zelie Cadelle rushed like a whirlwindinto her friend's room.

Such had been his haste, that she had given no thought whatever toher dress. She had stuck upon her uncombed hair the first bonnetshe had laid her hand upon, and thrown an old shawl over thewrapper in which she had received Marius in the afternoon.

"What, my poor Lucienne!" she exclaimed. "Are you so sick as allthat?"But she stopped short as she recognized M. de Tregars; and, in asuspicious tone,"What a singular meeting!" she said.

Marius bowed.

"You know Lucienne?"What she meant by that he understood perfectly. "Lucienne is mysister, madame," he said coldly.

She shrugged her shoulders. "What humbug!""It's the truth," affirmed Mlle. Lucienne; "and you know that Inever lie."Mme. Zelie was dumbfounded.

"If you say so," she muttered. "But no matter: that's queer."M. de Tregars interrupted her with a gesture,"And, what's more, it is because Lucienne is my sister that you seeher there lying upon that bed. They attempted to murder her to-day!""Oh!""It was her mother who tried to get rid of her, so as to possessherself of the fortune which my father had left her; and there isevery reason to believe that the snare was contrived by VincentFavoral."Mme. Zelie did not understand very well; but, when Marius and Mlle.

Lucienne had informed her of all that it was useful for her to know,"Why," she exclaimed, "what a horrid rascal that old Vincent mustbe!"And, as M. de Tregars remained dumb,"This afternoon," she went on, "I didn't tell you any stories; butI didn't tell you every thing, either." She stopped; and, after amoment of deliberation,"'Well, I don't care for old Vincent," she said. "Ah! he tried tohave Lucienne killed, did he? Well, then, I am going to tell everything I know. First of all, he wasn't any thing to me. It isn'tvery flattering; but it is so. He has never kissed so much as theend of my finger. He used to say that he loved me, but that herespected me still more, because I looked so much like a daughterhe had lost. Old humbug! And I believed him too! I did, upon myword, at least in the beginning. But I am not such a fool as Ilook. I found out very soon that he was making fun of me; and thathe was only using me as a blind to keep suspicion away from anotherwoman.""From what woman?""Ah! now, I do not know! All I know is that she is married, thathe is crazy about her, and that they are to run away together.""Hasn't he gone, then?"Mme. Cadelle's face had become somewhat anxious, and for over aminute she seemed to hesitate.

"Do you know," she said at last, "that my answer is going to costme a lot? They have promised me a pile of money; but I haven't gotit yet. And, if I say any thing, good-by! I sha'n't have any thing."M. de Tregars was opening his lips to tell her that she might resteasy on that score; but she cut him short.

"Well, no," she said: "Old Vincent hasn't gone. He got up a comedy,so he told me, to throw the lady's husband off the track. He sentoff a whole lot of baggage by the railroad; but he staid in Paris.""And do you know where he is hid?""In the Rue St. Lazare, of course: in the apartment that I hiredtwo weeks ago."In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success,"Would you consent to take me there?" asked M. de Tregars.

"Whenever you like,-to-morrow."IXAs he left Mlle. Lucienne's room,"There is nothing more to keep me at the Hotel des Folies," saidthe commissary of police to Maxence. "Every thing possible will bedone, and well done, by M. de Tregars. I am going home, therefore;and I am going to take you with me. I have a great deal to do andyou'll help me."That was not exactly true; but he feared, on the part of Maxence,some imprudence which might compromise the success of M. deTregars' mission.

He was trying to think of every thing to leave as little as possibleto chance; like a man who has seen the best combined plans fail forwant of a trifling precaution.

Once in the yard, he opened the door of the lodge where thehonorable Fortins, man and wife, were deliberating, and exchangingtheir conjectures, instead of going to bed. For they werewonderfully puzzled by all those events that succeeded each other,and anxious about all these goings and comings.

"I am going home," the commissary said to them; "but, before that,listen to my instructions. You will allow no one, you understand,- no one who is not known to you, to go up to Mlle. Lucienne'sroom. And remember that I will admit of no excuse, and that youmust not come and tell me afterwards, 'It isn't our fault, we can'tsee everybody that comes in,' and all that sort of nonsense."He was speaking in that harsh and imperious tone of whichpolice-agents have the secret, when they are addressing people whohave, by their conduct, placed themselves under their dependence.

"We are going to close our front-door," replied the estimablehotel-keepers. " We will comply strictly with your orders.""I trust so; because, if you should disobey me, I should hear it,and the result would be a serious trouble to you. Besides yourhotel being unmercifully closed up, you would find yourselvesimplicated in a very bad piece of business.

The most ardent curiosity could be read in Mme. Fortin's little eyes.

"I understood at once," she began, "that something extraordinarywas going on."But the commissary interrupted her,"I have not done yet. It may be that to-night or to-morrow someone will call and inquire how Mlle. Lucienne is.""And then?""You will answer that she is as bad as possible; and that she hasneither spoken a word, nor recovered her senses, since the accident;and that she will certainly not live through the day."The effort which Mme. Fortin made to remain silent gave, better thanany thing else, an idea of the terror with which the commissaryinspired her.

"That is not all," he went on. "As soon as the person in questionhas started off, you will follow him, without affectation, as faras the street-door, and you will point him out with your finger,here, like that, to one of my agents, who will happen to be on theBoulevard.""And suppose he should not be there?""He shall be there. You can make yourself easy on that score."The looks of distress which the honorable hotel-keepers wereexchanging did not announce a very tranquil conscience.

"In other words, here we are under surveillance," said M. Fortinwith a groan. "What have we done to be thus mistrusted?"To reply to him would have been a task more long than difficult.

"Do as I tell you," insisted the commissary harshly, "and don'tmind the rest, and, meantime, good-night."He was right in trusting implicitly to his agent's punctuality;for, as soon as he came out of the Hotel des Folies, a man passedby him, and without seeming to address him, or even to recognizehim, said in a whisper,"What news?"Nothing," he replied, "except that the Fortins are notified. Thetrap is well set. Keep your eyes open now, and spot any one whocomes to ask about Mlle. Lucienne.

And he hurried on, still followed by Maxence, who walked along likea body without soul, tortured by the most frightful anguish.

As he had been away the whole evening, four or five persons werewaiting for him at his office on matters of current business. Hedespatched them in less than no time; after which, addressinghimself to an agent on duty,"This evening," he said, "at about nine o'clock, in a restaurant onthe Boulevard, a quarrel took place. A person tried to pick aquarrel with another.

"You will proceed at once to that restaurant; you will get theparticulars of what took place; and you will ascertain exactly whothis man is, his name, his profession, and his residence."Like a man accustomed to such errands,"Can I have a description of him?" inquired the agent.

"Yes. He is a man past middle age, military bearing, heavy mustache,ribbons in his buttonhole.""Yes, I see: one of your regular fighting fellows.""Very well. Go then. I shall not retire before your return. Ah,I forgot; find out what they thought to-night on the 'street' aboutthe Mutual Credit affair, and what they said of the arrest of oneSaint Pavin, editor of 'The Financial Pilot,' and of a banker namedJottras.""Can I take a carriage?""Do so."The agent started; and he was not fairly out of the house, when thecommissary, opening a door which gave into a small study, called,"Felix!

It was his secretary, a man of about thirty, blonde, with a gentleand timid countenance, having, with his long coat, somewhat theappearance of a theological student. He appeared immediately.

"You call me, sir?""My dear Felix," replied the commissary, "I have seen you, sometimes,imitate very nicely all sorts of hand-writings."The secretary blushed very much, no doubt on account of Maxence, whowas sitting by the side of his employer. He was a very honestfellow; but there are certain little talents of which people do notlike to boast; and the talent of imitating the writing of others isof the number, for the reason, that, fatally and at once, it suggeststhe idea of forgery.

"It was only for fun that I used to do that, sir," he stammered.

"Would you be here if it had been otherwise?" said the commissary.

"Only this time it is not for fun, but to do me a favor that Iwish you to try again."And, taking out of his pocket the letter taken by M. de Tregarsfrom the man in the restaurant,"Examine this writing," he said. "and see whether you feel capableof imitating it tolerably well."Spreading the letter under the full light of the lamp, the secretaryspent at least two minutes examining it with the minute attention ofan expert. And at the same time he was muttering,"Not at all convenient, this. Hard writing to imitate. Not asalient feature, not a characteristic sign! Nothing to strike theeye, or attract attention. It must be some old lawyer's clerk whowrote this."In spite of his anxiety of mind, the commissary smiled.

"I shouldn't be surprised if you had guessed right."Thus encouraged,"At any rate." Felix declared, "I am going to try."He took a pen, and, after trying a dozen times,"How is this?" he asked, holding out a sheet of paper.

The commissary carefully compared the original with the copy.

"It is not perfect," he murmured; "but at night, with the imaginationexcited by a great peril - Besides, we must risk something.""If I had a few hours to practise!""But you have not. Come, take up your pen, and write as well asyou can, in that same hand, what I am going to tell you."And after a moment's thought, he dictated as follows"All goes well. T. drawn into a quarrel, is to fight in the morningwith swords. But our man, whom I cannot leave, refuses to go ahead,unless he is paid two thousand francs before the duel. I have notthe amount. Please hand it to the bearer, who has orders to waitfor you."The commissary, leaning over his secretary's shoulder, was followinghis hand, and, the last word being written,"Perfect! "he exclaimed. "Now quick, the address: Mme. le Baronnede Thaller, Rue de le Pepiniere."There are professions which extinguish, in those who exercise them,all curiosity. It is with the most complete indifference, andwithout asking a question, that the secretary had done what he hadbeen requested.

"Now, my dear Felix," resumed the commissary, you will please getyourself up as near as possible like a restaurant-waiter, and takethis letter to its address.""At this hour!""Yes. The Baroness de Thaller is out to a ball. You will tell theservants that you are bringing her an answer concerning an importantmatter. They know nothing about it; but they will allow you to waitfor their mistress in the porter's lodge. As soon as she comes in,you will hand her the letter, stating that two gentlemen who aretaking supper in your restaurant are waiting for the answer. It maybe that she will exclaim that you are a scoundrel, that she does notknow what it means: in that case, we shall have been anticipated, andyou must get away as fast as you can. But the chances are, that shewill give you two thousand francs; and then you must so manage, thatshe will be seen plainly when she does it. Is it all understood?"Perfectly.""Go ahead, then, and do not lose a minute. I shall wait."Away from Mlle. Lucienne, Maxence had gradually been recalled tothe strangeness of the situation; and it was with a mingled feelingof curiosity and surprise that he observed the commissary actingand bustling about.

The good man had found again all the activity of his youth, togetherwith that fever of hope and that impatience of success, whichusually disappear with age.

He was going over the whole of the case again, - his first meetingwith Mlle. Lucienne, the various attempts upon her life; and he hadjust taken out of the file the letter of information which had beenintrusted to him, in order to compare the writing with that of theletter taken from his adversary by M. de Tregars, when the lattercame in all out of breath.

"Zelie has spoken!" he said.

And, at once addressing Maxence,"You, my dear friend," he resumed, "you must run to the Hotel desFolies.""Is Lucienne worse?""No. Lucienne is getting on well enough. Zelie has spoken; butthere is no certainty, that, after due reflection, she will notrepent, and go and give the alarm. You will return, therefore,and you will not lose sight of her until I call for her in themorning. If she wishes to go out, you must prevent her."The commissary had understood the importance of the precaution.

"You must prevent her," he added, "even by force; and I authorizeyou, if need be, to call upon the agent whom I have placed on duty,watching the Hotel des Folies, and to whom I am going to send wordimmediately."Maxence started off on a run.

"Poor fellow!" murmured Marius, "I know where your father is. Whatare we going to learn now?"He had scarcely had time to communicate the information he hadreceived from Mme. Cadelle, when the first of the commissary'semissaries made his appearance.

"The commission is done," he said, in that confident tone of a manwho thinks he has successfully accomplished a difficult task.

"You know the name of the individual who sought a quarrel with M.

de Tregars?""His name is Corvi. He is well known in all the tables d'hote,where there are women, and where they deal a healthy little gameafter dinner. I know him well too. He is a bad fellow, who passeshimself off for a former superior officer in the Italian army.

"His address?""He lives at Rue de la Michodiere, in a furnished house. I wentthere. The porter told me that my man had just gone out with anill-looking individual, and that they must be in a little caf onthe corner of the next street. I ran there, and found my twofellows drinking beer.""Won't they give us the slip?""No danger of that: I have got them fixed.""How is that?""It is an idea of mine. I just thought, 'Suppose they put off?'

And at once I went to notify some policemen, and I returned tostation myself near the caf . It was just closing up. My twofellows came out: I picked a quarrel with them; and now they arein the station-house, well recommended."The commissary knit his brows.

"That's almost too much zeal," he murmured. "Well, what's done isdone. Did you make any inquiries about the Saint Pavin and Jottrasmatter?""I had no time, it was too late. You forget, perhaps, sir, that itis nearly two o'clock."Just as he got through, the secretary who had been sent to the Ruede la Pepiniere came in.

"Well?" inquired the commissary, not without evident anxiety.

"I waited for Mme. de Thaller over an hour," he said. "When shecame home, I gave her the letter. She read it; and, in presence ofa number of her servants, she handed me these two thousand francs."At the sight of the bank notes, the commissary jumped to his feet.

"Now we have it!" he exclaimed. "Here is the proof that we wanted."