. . , ' .- 
 
 qsr 
 
 "Sign!" she commanded (p. 256).
 
 IIH1Y. OK CALIF. UttilAKY, LOS ANGELES 
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 (SECRETS OK A BOUDOIR.) 
 
 BY 
 
 ALLEN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'LUCIA LASCAR," "PHARAOH'S TREASURE," ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 DONOHUE, HENXEBERRY & CO
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1891, 
 BY 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FRENCH SKIPPER. 
 
 It was twelve o'clock on the morning of November 
 10, 1788. 
 
 Two hours before this the fog, which had enveloped 
 the English coast at sunrise, had fairly lifted from Dover 
 to Folkstone, affording from either point a faint view of 
 the ancient citadel of Boulogne, France. 
 
 At Dover the destinies of six persons were being 
 determined ; at Boulogne the first act in the drama of 
 their lives was in preparation. 
 
 At two o'clock precisely, wind and tide permitting, 
 the only packet lying at the Dover wharf was to leave 
 tor Calais. It was a French boat, and on a pennant 
 floating from its white flagstaff appeared the legend: 
 
 " La Charmante; Felix Dumesnil, Commander." 
 
 The Captain himself stood upon the quay. He was 
 a man of perhaps fifty, with good features, but as dark 
 as a Malay. His body was of enormous size, of splen- 
 did proportions, and developed like that of an athlete. 
 
 By the side of this Titan, and scarcely reaching to 
 his armpit, stood a slim young man of twenty-five or 
 less, with furtive black eyes, a very pale face, and an 
 exceedingly soft voice. The two were conversing. 
 
 " Eight persons, if you choose, Captain," said the 
 slim young man, in an animated treble; "and at five 
 guineas apiece do you see, that makes forty."
 
 8 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "Pardieu, Monsieur Paul Cambray," exclaimed the 
 giant, in a voice that did ample justice to his great bulk; 
 "it seems to me that you are an able calculator, is it 
 not so?" 
 
 The humor of the Captain was lost on the youth, who 
 stroked his silky black moustaches as he answered, com- 
 placently: 
 
 "I thank you, Monsieur." Then, as if to account 
 for this talent, or perhaps to show that it was inherited, 
 he added, "My grandfather was a financier." 
 
 " So?" queried the Captain, satirically. 
 
 "It is quite true, I assure you. He discovered how 
 to spend five thousand livres a year out of an income of 
 three thousand. " 
 
 "Aha! that is what our good Louis is trying to do. 
 Well, and how did your grandfather end?" inquired the 
 commander, drily. 
 
 "Why, you see, he was a veritable hothead. When 
 I was just seventeen he took me to his tailor for an out- 
 fit a la mode. The tailor was a most unreasonable fellow, 
 who insisted on a payment of five hundred or so arrear- 
 ages" 
 
 "Just like our French farmers, who are refusing to 
 work for the nobility any longer without pay. But go on." 
 
 " My father was so incensed at this demand that he 
 ran the tailor through. For this he was transported, 
 but died on the passage out. My mo her then secured 
 me a situation at Paris, in the department of police " 
 
 " Parbleu,yes," interrupted his listener, impatiently; 
 "and you have done justice to your opportunities 
 there." 
 
 "I think so," assented Paul, whose assurance, at least, 
 was remarkable. "And I trust that what I learned 
 there has been of some service to yourself since I 
 became your clerk."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 9 
 
 "Yes. But now, as to these eight travelers who wish 
 to cross the Channel in my boat saw you them?" 
 " Mon Dieu, yes," answered Paul, vehemently. 
 " Well, then, describe them to me." 
 "Oh, certainly; but you will see them directly your- 
 self. You have only to go to the Ship Inn, and tell old 
 Bailey Bentinck that you desire to see them; they are 
 all there." 
 
 The Captain shrugged his shoulders; it was like the 
 heaving of a mountain and somewhat disconcerted his 
 dapper companion for a moment. 
 
 "Patience, my friend," said he, deprecatingly ; "I 
 must know something about these strangers before I go 
 to them. Do you not know that every stranger who 
 arrives in France now is watched ? And if he is from 
 England or Austria his description is written upon the 
 books of the secret police within twenty-four hours after 
 he reaches Paris. A thousand thunders ! I will not risk 
 bad lodgings in La Force for forty no, sacre, not for 
 four hundred gu : neas." 
 
 " But," persisted the young man, " there is no risk 
 whatever in this case." 
 
 "You think so. Well, describe these people." 
 " Listen, then. There are, to begin with, three very 
 handsome English gentlemen. One of the three is Sir 
 Philip Belmore, immensely wealthy, one of the best 
 swordsmen of the day, dark as a raven, symmetrical as 
 Apollo. He has no relatives in the world except his two 
 half brothers, who are also his companions. These are 
 Messieurs Hubert and Ralph Meltham, who are of exactly 
 the same size and appearance, decided blondes ; in fact, 
 they are twins. Sir Philip is thirty-seven and the half- 
 brothers are thirty. But the strangest thing is, they are 
 all of the same height, and as tall as grenadiers; besides, 
 they are all dressed exactly alike; yes, in fine gray doub-
 
 IO HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 let and hose, gray beavers with gray feathers. Their 
 rapiers are superb, and so are their manners." 
 
 " Ah, you are a good portrait painter," observed the 
 Captain, eyeing him with curiosity. 
 
 "Thanks, Monsieur, my mother was an excellent ama- 
 teur with the brush." 
 
 "And you do excellently well with the alphabet." 
 
 " You may well say so," returned Paul, eyeing his 
 master in his turn, but with the utmost complacency. 
 
 " Sacrissimo, proceed." 
 
 "To be sure. The gentlemen have three' varlets; 
 one apiece, of course, all red-faced beef-eaters. Their 
 names are barbarous, I tell you. Sir Philip's is called 
 James or Jeems Guppy, Monsieur Hubert's is Peter 
 Grosscup, and Monsieur Ralph's fellow is called William 
 Trotter." 
 
 " Pouf, enough of the varlets. Now, the last two ? " 
 
 "Ah, ciel! " exclaimed the youth, a sudden inspira- 
 tion flushing his pale face ; " you ask me to describe the 
 Queen of Paradise/' 
 
 "Aha, a woman," muttered the Captain, looking a 
 trifle uneasy. 
 
 "A seraph," cried Paul, in a second burst of enthu- 
 siasm, at which the Captain again shrugged his huge 
 shoulders. 
 
 "And the name of this celestial bird? " demanded he, 
 ironically. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Helene Sainte Maur," replied the 
 youth, lifting his cap with a reverent air. " She is an 
 aristocrat also, a Parisienne. She is a pure, a glorious 
 blonde, with hair like sunshine, a face and neck like the 
 curd of milk, midnight brows, but eyes like the blue sea; 
 and like the blue sea they are deep and always in 
 motion. She is five feet and four inches in height, and 
 her figure ah-h!"
 
 IIELENE SAINTE MAUR. II 
 
 "In truth, a paragon?" 
 
 "Ydu may well say that." 
 . "Well?" 
 
 "She is exactly twenty-six " 
 
 "B-r-r-r," rumbled the giant, "you know her age, 
 then? Come, that is impossible." 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you." 
 
 " Never mind, that makes seven." 
 
 " Of course; there is one more, that is Mademoiselle's 
 maid, Clarise, a pretty, dark little grisette, who per- 
 mitted me to kiss her small hand, when I uncorded her 
 box. Clarise is not yet nineteen; she is petite and 
 round, and her lips are very red and very sweet, lean 
 tell you." 
 
 During this refreshing recital, the ox-like eyes of the 
 skipper were rapidly expanding with a look of wonder 
 which he could no longer repress. 
 
 "Tell me, tell me," he roared, "how and where you 
 learned so much of these strangers?" 
 
 "That is by no means difficult. You sent me to 
 London to receive from Malpas, the ship broker, the 
 purchase money for La Charmante, Monsieur." 
 
 "Very true. And you, Monsieur Paul, have arrived 
 one day later than I expected." 
 
 " Exactly ; and for an excellent reason, which you 
 shall presently hear. But, first let me deliver the 
 money." 
 
 Monsieur Cambray now handed out a package of 
 notes to the Captain, who carefully counted them, 
 placed them in a large wallet which he carried in a capa- 
 cious waistcoat pocket, and with a sigh looked at his 
 boat, as it rocked gently on the water. 
 
 " And you arranged that I should leave the packet 
 at Calais, after my last trip, did you not? " 
 
 Paul nodded.
 
 12 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " And now for my story," said he ; "I think it will re- 
 fresh you." 
 
 " Pouf. I hope so," muttered the ex-mariner, ab- 
 stractedly. 
 
 "You must know, then, that I am not without a few 
 friends in the foggy English city. So, instead of mop- 
 ing in a dingy inn, while I waited on old Malpas, I 
 looked up one Acnille Dudevant, a sociable young 
 journalist who left Paris for some reason known only to 
 himself. He is an old acquaintance of mine, however, 
 whom I sometimes allowed to see a little ahead, when he 
 squeezed me for news at the Prefecture. Well, I found 
 him in fine apartments ; and as he appeared glad to see 
 me again, we sat down to a bottle of sour Bourdeaux 
 which he said sharpened his wits and his pen at the same 
 moment. It certainly loosened his tongue. Well, this 
 Dudevant knows everybody and everything, and he 
 assisted me to a good deal of information. He said ' By 
 Jupiter, Cambray, I desire to relieve myself of some of 
 my obligations to you, and I am thinking how I may 
 begin.' Yes, he wanted to return some of the favors I 
 had formerly extended to him. Ho, ho, Captain, just 
 think of that ! Instead of being my enemy because I 
 had helped him, he is my friend." 
 
 "An eccentric," murmured the commander. 
 
 "I should say so," laughed the young cynic; "all the 
 same I love him for it. To proceed: 
 
 "My friend wanted to know if you were still my 
 employer; and if you were still trying to make the pas- 
 sage of the channel in six hours, when it actually con- 
 sumes from twelve to eighteen; and if your boat would 
 make a trip this week. I told him you would, on my 
 return to Dover, leave for Calais on your last trip. 
 'That is fortunate,' said my friend; and then he pro- 
 ceeded to inform me that some very desirable people of
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 13 
 
 his acquaintance were about to journey to Paris, by 
 way of Dover; and that if I would remain over in Lon- 
 don one day longer he could secure them for me. In 
 your interest I agreed to do so. He seemed gratified 
 at this, and went on to give me a full account of the 
 party; and I must confess that by the time he was 
 through, I felt rather well acquainted with them myself. 
 Dudevant seemed to have some peculiar personal inter- 
 est in the matter, besides the wish to do me a favor. 
 Above all, I thought he was strangely anxious that one 
 of the party, at all events, should be gotten off. 
 
 " My excellent friend managed the affair so well and 
 promptly, that we all journeyed to Dover in the same 
 diligence. I took the whole party to the Ship Inn, of 
 course; and there they are, waiting for you to come to 
 them, so that they may arrange with you for their pas- 
 sage." 
 
 " So, so," mused the Captain of La Charmante. 
 "Still, do you not see, my friend, there is a question. 
 Six of these travelers are English; and in these uncer- 
 tain times in France, the English are distrusted, I may 
 almost say they are detested. It is an easy matter to 
 get into serious trouble with the Ministers of Justice, if 
 one brings conspirators into the country." 
 
 "Oh, but these are not conspirators," insisted the 
 young man, earnestly. "I have conversed with them, 
 all of them, do you see? Besides, I received the confi- 
 dence of Clarise. And what do you think Clarise told 
 me?" 
 
 " How should I know? " growled the Titan, in whose 
 huge bosom there existed not a particle of sentiment; 
 "doubtless some nonsense that would only please a 
 mawkish young rake, like my clerk." 
 
 "You do injustice to us both, Monsieur," protested 
 Paul, stiffening.
 
 14 HELENE SAINTE MA.UR. 
 
 "Well, let us hear it, then." 
 
 " Clarise is not a gossip, but she knows a gentleman," 
 continued the youth, with amusing gravity. " Her mis- 
 tress, she informed me in confidence, you understand 
 has a large income, and a fine chateau in Paris; but she 
 has been recently doing London. Last week at the 
 Minister's ball she met Sir Philip Belmore, who bestowed 
 a great deal of attention upon her during the evening. 
 Mademoiselle told him that she was on the eve of 
 returning to Paris; whereupon, Sir Philip suddenly con- 
 ceived a great desire to travel in the same direction. 
 
 "Now, Dudevant, it appears, is a sort of schemer, 
 and has an unbounded admiration for her, and has been 
 a sort of confidant, though he speaks of that with some 
 spite. Through him it was arranged that her party and 
 Sir Philip's who goes nowhere, it seems, without his 
 two half-brothers should travel together. And here 
 they are." 
 
 After a few moments' reflection, the Captain, who little 
 dreamed of the importance of his decision, said, briefly: 
 
 " I will pay my respects to them. Go you on board, 
 and wait my return." 
 
 And while the young man promptly obeyed this wel- 
 come order, the commander of the packet started along 
 the quay with a step as active as his own.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SIR PHILIP BELMORE. 
 
 In the latter part of the last century the " Ship Inn," 
 at Dover, was a famous post-house. At the date of our 
 story it was kept by a jovial, red-faced Yorkshireman, 
 whose burly figure filled the low doorway as Captain 
 Dumesnil approached. 
 
 "What, is it Captain Felix, himself?" exclaimed he, 
 bobbing his fat head with satisfaction. 
 
 But the skipper, who was a laconic man, replied with 
 a nod, and asked briefly: 
 
 " Where are they, my friend ? " 
 
 "Oh, ah," answered the landlord, a little discon- 
 certed; "you mean the great party from Lunnun?" 
 
 " Certainly; take me in to the gentlemen, or announce 
 me." 
 
 "This way, sir, they expect you;" and Bailey led 
 his gigantic visitor at once into a private parlor. The 
 three brothers were seated around a table, upon which 
 were the remains of a substantial lunch. They were 
 abstractedly staring at each other, and the entrance of 
 the Captain seemed a relief to all three. The eldest, 
 Sir Philipy looked up with an affable smile, which 
 changed to a look of interest, and pointed to a capacious 
 chair, into which the immense bulk of the skipper 
 quietly sank. 
 
 " I presume you have come to carry us off ?" observed 
 Sir Philip, measuring his grand proportions with an 
 
 admiring eye. 
 
 15
 
 16 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " With your consent, Messieurs/' replied he, grace- 
 fully; and he proceeded to put a few polite questions, 
 which Sir Philip courteously answered. 
 
 In half an hour Captain Felix Dumesnil's scruples, 
 if indeed he had entered the room with any, had been 
 completely removed by the manners and conversation 
 of these charming travelers. He was a man of some 
 culture himself, and their intelligence and wit, while it 
 delighted him, began also to excite in his mind a 
 peculiar interest, which the brothers plainly recipro- 
 cated. 
 
 Conversation had drifted toward .the situation in 
 France, a subject at that time engrossing all Europe. 
 
 "And what is the 'state of France/ Captain?" 
 inquired Hubert Meltham, who for some minutes had 
 been cloudily observing Sir Philip. 
 
 The Frenchman's brow wrinkled. 
 
 "That is a very broad question, Monsieur," replied 
 Dumesnil, slowly. "My poor France is in a state of 
 ebullition. La Vendee is in a ferment, the corn crop in 
 Picardy is poor " 
 
 "And bread is scarce in Paris," added Hubert, as the 
 Captain hesitated. "But the King? Does he still pre- 
 serve the same apathy in the midst of the public dis- 
 tress?" 
 
 Dumesnil groaned, as he answered : 
 
 " Louis XVI. is a philosopher. He is a good man, but 
 a poor king. He is, moreover, bearing the burden of 
 sixty years of misrule in France. But it is not the 
 King's fault that, contrary to law, vineyards are planted 
 where wheat would thrive, or that the hailstones fall 
 too often in Soissons." 
 
 "And the Queen? Is she really so unpopular?" 
 
 Dumesnil shrugged his shoulders expressively. 
 
 "In every wine-shop in the Quarters Saint Antoine
 
 " For God's sake, keep back" (p. 18).
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 17 
 
 and Saint Marceau," replied he, grimly, "you may every 
 night hear some dog howl: 'Send the Austrian dairy- 
 maid back to Vienna ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, but that is only the canaille, the mob ; and you 
 know the mob howls always and everywhere." 
 
 But Dumesnil, leaning forward, said, impressively : 
 
 " My friend, it is this mob which will before very 
 long rule at Versailles." 
 
 At this moment the conversation was startlingly 
 interrupted. The shrill outcries of a female proceeded 
 from the entry outside, then hurried footsteps ap- 
 proached, the door was flung open, and a pretty 
 French girl, wringing her hands frantically, burst into 
 the room. 
 
 " Help ! Help my mistress ! " cried she ; and before 
 a question could be put to her by the astonished group, 
 darted out again. 
 
 With one impulse they hurried after the girl ; Sir 
 Philip at their head, and with the landlord following, 
 the whole party bolted pell-mell into the little private 
 parlor in which Mile. Sainte Maur had been bestowed. 
 
 There, in the center of the room, her supple body 
 bent over a magnificent Italian greyhound, her small 
 white hands gripping the silver collar on its swollen 
 neck, stood the young mistress of Clarise. The animal 
 was struggling violently, and its glaring eyes and foam- 
 ing mouth gave unmistakable signs of hydrophobia. 
 
 A cry of horror, hoarse and brief, and Sir Philip 
 was at the dog's throat. Seizing it with both hands, he 
 shouted to the panting girl : 
 
 "Let go, and fly ! " 
 
 Instantly releasing her hold, she retreated a few 
 steps, turned, and stood with heaving bosom and pant- 
 ing breath, her splendid eyes glittering with a strange
 
 l8 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 light, as she bent them fearlessly upon the dog and 
 thence to the dark face of her rescuer. 
 
 Dumesnil and the rest would, of course, have rushed 
 in to the assistance of Sir Philip, but it would have 
 been useless. Imagine an enormous snake held at the 
 throat by one man, while its powerful body writhes in a 
 thousand convolutions, and changes its position every 
 instant. The one vulnerable point is the throat ; and if 
 the hand that clasps it is displaced for the fraction of a 
 second he is lost. Belmore, therefore, had warned them 
 back, and repugnant though it was to obey, they saw 
 that they would only endanger him the more by attract- 
 ing the dog's muzzle away from him, since the powerful 
 neck would then join with its body in those fearful and 
 spasmodic wrenchings which rendered his hold upon it 
 so precarious. 
 
 A quick and fierce movement of the hound's head 
 flung the yellow foam from its grinning lips upon Bel- 
 more's cheek and brow. Unnoticed by him, the fatal , 
 virus was slowly trickling toward his eye, when, with a 
 cry of dismay, the girl darted to his side, and plucking 
 a handkerchief from her bosom, brushed away the drops 
 with a quickness that equaled that of the hound, and 
 sprang out of reach as its jaws closed within an inch of 
 her arm. 
 
 Within that instant, for the dauntless act consumed 
 no more, Belmore's eyes sought her's with an indescrib- 
 able expression; but he only said, hoarsely: 
 
 "For God's sake, keep back!" 
 
 The efforts of the dog to release itself grew momen- 
 tarily more furious. With eyes like living coals, its 
 long, pointed fangs clashing together with demoniacal 
 fury, it writhed and bounded, now on one side, now on 
 the other, of the man who held its sinewy throat in a 
 grip of iron. There was no possible chance afforded
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 19 
 
 any one to use a weapon, so lightning-like were its 
 movements; but at last its fearful struggles ceased, with 
 a suddenness that threw its whole weight upon the hand 
 that held it; the blood burst from its flaming eyes, and 
 the brute fell dead. 
 
 Gasping for breath, and pale from exertion, Sir Philip 
 was about to draw his handkerchief from his pocket, 
 when again the fair stranger glided toward him, this 
 time unchecked, and with a quick and graceful motion, 
 with her own dainty mouchoir wiped the dripping brow 
 of her deliverer, murmuring as she did so, in a voice of 
 singular sweetness: 
 
 "I thank you, Monsieur!" And she laid her hand 
 softly in his, with all the eloquence of which that little 
 member was capable, thus evincing her unspoken grati- 
 tude. Belmore's nervous palm closed over the slender 
 fingers with a force that brought a pink flush into her 
 wax-like cheeks. 
 
 We need not describe the rapidily varying emotions 
 of the witnesses of or the actors in this exciting scene. 
 Nor need we say that those experienced by Belmore 
 were the most intense. Intense, indeed, and peculiar. 
 For some seconds he stood aloof from the rest, without 
 motion, his unwavering eyes drinking in the marvelous 
 vision of beauty before him, his parted lips breathing in 
 the subtle and strange perfume exhaled from her glor- 
 ious hair and her soft gray drapery, his veins running 
 fire from the kindling touch of her white hand as it lay 
 warm and palpitating in his. 
 
 While Belmore, lost to everything save the sibylline 
 form which filled his vision, stood gazing upon its fair 
 outlines, his brothers gazed upon him wonderingly, 
 mournfully. They knew only too well what fearful pas- 
 sions slept in his dark blood. Sometimes, in generations 
 back, those passions had flamed up in the heart of a
 
 20 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 stalwart knight cr a stately dame of his house; and, 
 whether exercised for weal or woe, with good or evil 
 intent, those fiery energies had always consumed him 
 or her. To Hubert and Ralph Meltham, who were 
 unselfishly devoted to their brother, though of divided 
 kinship, what they saw in his face now was what they 
 had always dreaded to see. Often had Hubert, the 
 graver of the two, said to his brother: 
 
 "Some day (and may it be a distant one) Philip will 
 meet one of those rare and incomprehensible women 
 who have the power to re-create a man by changing him 
 into an angel or a devil. Then may God help him! " 
 
 Now, as he looked into the face of Sir Philip, his 
 own face blanched; the soul of Belmore shone forth in 
 every lineament; for the first time, and for all time, it 
 had awakened. 
 
 The shuddering gaze of the brothers turned toward 
 the woman, and still deeper emotions made their hearts 
 tremble. With sentiments far different from those 
 which agitated the bosom of their brother, they scanned 
 every detail of her matchless form, the dazzling fairness 
 of her face the face of something strangely, vaguely 
 familiar to them, surrounded now by disordered tresses 
 of golden hair which rippled down from the head and 
 brow of a goddess and crept about the creamy neck and 
 shoulders of Juno-like contour; her eyes, large and 
 azure blue, mingling the liquid sea and the serene sky 
 in their baffling depths, while they looked fixedly into 
 those of Sir Philip, with an expression to them, at least, 
 incomprehensible. And gazing thus upon her, the 
 brothers began to feel that indescribable fear that comes 
 like an inspiration before a great danger or a great sor- 
 row. 
 
 "She is a goddess," murmured Ralph, despairingly.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 21 
 
 Hubert caught the word, started, and turning to his 
 brother, exclaimed : 
 
 " A goddess ? Yes, it is Diana herself ! " 
 
 The brothers had seen at Athens the marble imper- 
 sonation of the fair immortal, and here before them, fill- 
 ing them with awe, stood she, transformed, sentient, 
 vivified and crowned with an aureate veil. 
 
 Thought is a* rapid traveler ; and, although to each 
 one of the five participants in that absorbing scene 
 enough had been revealed to create a bond between 
 them, a bond that was destined to fearfully influence 
 the lives of each, and to bring them again and again 
 together during the enactment of a long and terrible 
 drama, yet but a few brief minutes had sufficed for all 
 this, when Helene Sainte Maur turned softly away and 
 passed out of the room, with a mute sign to Clarise to 
 follow her. Like a groping dreamer, Sir Philip also 
 followed, without a word or glance at his brothers, or 
 at Dumesnil who stood in the doorway. 
 
 The landlord had some time before gone for a serv- 
 ant to have the dead hound removed from the room ; 
 the two or three servants who had gathered in the hall 
 during the struggle had gone off, and the two brothers 
 and the Captain were left to themselves and their lugu- 
 brious reflections. They sat down in silence, eyeing 
 each other. The face of the skipper expressed uneasi- 
 ness and perplexity. Suddenly he gave vent to a mighty 
 oath. 
 
 "Million thunders!" ejaculated he, bringing his 
 ponderous fist down upon his knee with a terrible blow; 
 "yes, it is so." 
 
 "Of what are you thinking, Monsieur ?" inquired 
 Hubert, anxiously regarding the giant. 
 
 " Gentlemen," responded he, speaking with emphasis,
 
 22 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "decidedly, Sir Philip is enchanted with Mademoiselle. 
 I ask you if it is not so ! " 
 
 The brothers, with flushed faces, answered, sorrow- 
 fully: 
 
 "Unfortunately, yes." 
 
 " So. And you think it is not singular, this astound- 
 ing power which she has so suddenly acquired over his 
 mind his mind, mark you ?" 
 
 "It is certainly startling, Captain Dumesnil," con- 
 fessed Hubert, "but it is altogether beyond our compre- 
 hension." 
 
 "Precisely; but not beyond mine," said Dumesnil, 
 significantly. Then, with a mighty shrug, the giant 
 uttered a sentence which caused the brothers to spring 
 to their feet with a cry of dismay : 
 
 " Mademoiselle Helene Sainte Maur is a disciple of 
 the man Mesmer ! "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FRENCH PACKET. 
 
 If "time and tide wait for no man," it is none the 
 less true that men and ships must wait on both. Cer- 
 tainly, the commander of the French packet was 
 compelled to do so; and not until six o'clock on the fol- 
 lowing morning did he bring his passengers in sight of 
 the ramparts of Calais; thus giving point, as it were, to 
 the irony of Monsieur Achille Dudevant. 
 
 During the waking hours occupied in crossing the 
 boisterous strait, the worthy skipper had shown a taci- 
 turnity quite foreign to his genial nature, as Paul Cam- 
 bray remarked to Hubert Meltham. " However," said 
 he, in explanation, " he is making his last voyage in La 
 Charmante; he is also about to retire from the sea 
 altogether, having acquired enough to keep him inde- 
 pendently the balance of his life. Well, do you see, he 
 is naturally sad at the thought of so soon parting with 
 his boat, and the breaking up of old associations." 
 
 But the brothers attached a more serious meaning to 
 the grim silence of the Captain. Their own minds, 
 harassed by gloomy and uneasy reflections, had become 
 clarified; an effect invariably produced by trouble. 
 Recollecting the discovery Dumesnil conceived he had 
 made concerning Helene Sainte Maur's relations with 
 the mysterious Mesmer (who was generally regarded 
 as a master of the "black art," and held by many in 
 dread or fear), they believed that this was weighing upon 
 the commander's mind, as it certainly was upon their 
 
 own. They felt, too, a premonition of coming misfor- 
 
 as
 
 24 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 tunes which they did not attempt to define, and, with- 
 out being able to explain why, they felt sure that their 
 brother's infatuation must sooner or later land him in 
 an abyss. And yet, they knew they would be powerless 
 to avert this peril; and this knowledge added to their 
 distress. 
 
 In the heart of a man of genius (and such a man 
 was Sir Philip Belmore, as we shall attempt to show), 
 imbued with intense passions not only of the heart but 
 of the intellect, the love inspired by a woman possessing 
 the same intellectual attributes, whether equal or not to 
 his own, is profound, unconquerable, irresistible. If 
 his genius is erratic, his character, infirm, his nature 
 wayward, his passions devour him and wreck the one 
 to whom he gives himself. If, on the other hand, his 
 character is firm, his nature lofty, he tempers the cur- 
 rent, however powerful and swift it may be, so that it 
 never becomes violent in its demonstration, never 
 extravagant in its manifestation. The love of such a 
 man as this can yield to the woman who possesses it 
 happiness as unbounded as it is before she has realized 
 it to her inconceivable. 
 
 It was such a character, such a soul, such a self-dis- 
 ciplined nature as this that Helene Sainte Maur was in 
 search of. No other could mate with her ; she could 
 be content with no humdrum existence, such as the mil- 
 lions of fretting couples "enjoyed " because they could 
 conceive of no better existence. From all such petty 
 domestication amounting simply to a partnership of 
 little cares and big, and a doubling of petty burdens 
 she shrank away with the sensation of disgust. 
 
 To Hubert and Ralph Meltham this woman was 
 indeed "rare and incomprehensible." All they knew of 
 her was this, and all they saw was that Sir Philip had 
 recognized her as the twin of his soul, from whom
 
 HELEXE SAINTE MATJR. 25 
 
 nothing could ever separate him. Withal, the brothers 
 were impressed with an unreasoning fear of that occult 
 power which they believed Helene could at will exert 
 over Sir Philip. It was the power that Circe used upon 
 Ulysses ; but neither supernatural nor as science has 
 proved unexplainable. But, how could they baffle this 
 awful power? they asked themselves. Ah, how indeed ? 
 
 In their perplexity and distress they sought counsel 
 with Felix Dumesnil. And Dumesnil proved a wise 
 counselor, and more a generous friend. 
 
 " Permit me to propose a plan, my friends," he said, 
 when they had found him in his snug little state-room; 
 and as he spoke, his great black eyes beamed on them 
 with honest sympathy. " A plan which you are to refuse, 
 if it in the least interferes with your own wishes. It is 
 this: 
 
 "When we arrive at Calais, I deliver my boat to an 
 agent who will be there to receive it. I shall then be a 
 'discharged mariner,' and, with neither occupation, fam- 
 ily nor kindred, I may go whither I will, and do whatever 
 best suits me. Well, what is to prevent our taking 
 apartments together in Paris and keeping together 
 whilst you are in France, indeed ? Mon Dieu, I know this 
 Paris, I tell you, and since you do not, you would find 
 the task of watching over your brother a difficult one, I 
 warn you of that. Mon Dieu, it would be impossible. " 
 
 While Dumesnil was advancing this proposition, the 
 eyes of the brothers betrayed the liveliest satisfaction. 
 Grasping his enormous hand warmly, they declared that 
 nothing could be more acceptable to them. 
 
 Dumesnil appeared pleased. " But, your brother?' 
 queried he, a little doubtfully. 
 
 " We can answer for him," replied Ralph, confidently. 
 " It was only an hour ago that he expressed the hope 
 that you might be induced to remain with us during our
 
 26 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 stay in France. I will go to him at once, and inform 
 him of our arrangement. Come you, also, Hubert." 
 And, with a cordial good-night for the midnight bells 
 were sounding the brothers departed to find Sir Philip. 
 
 Usually, on a journey of even a short duration, 
 travelers are impatient to arrive at their destination, and 
 will grumble at every delay. In the case of four, at 
 least, of the passengers of La Charmante, this pro- 
 pensity was delightfully wanting. The tardy manner 
 in which the smooth white hull plowed its way 
 through the churning sea was amiably forgiven. As 
 for Paul and Clarise, for instan:e, they had been making 
 such rapid progress in each other's regards, that at the 
 very moment the agreement had been reached in the 
 Commander's room, an agreement which was to increase 
 their own felicity, they were bidding each other a tender 
 adieu, interjected with dolorous allusions to an early 
 separation, and punctuated with frequent sounds like 
 those produced when the lips of two amorous people 
 come into hasty collision. 
 
 The more dignified, though much more earnest, dis- 
 course between the baronet and Helene had also con- 
 tinued until a very late hour, in the dim little cabin ; 
 and before they had separated, Belmore had learned 
 from his fair companion as much as she could tell him 
 of her future movements. 
 
 "I shall go to my hotel, in the Faubourg St. Ger- 
 main," said she, "and shall remain there .for a long 
 time ; probably until -the unhappy disturbances in the 
 provinces finally subside. I shall be delighted to. see 
 you often, and your brothers also." 
 
 " I shall not neglect your invitation, be assured of 
 that," replied Sir Philip, earnestly; " and if I can obtain 
 suitable quarters for myself and party in the vicinity, I 
 shall do so."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 27 
 
 "Oh, that will not be at all difficult. Indeed, I 
 would advise you to do so. The Faubourg St. Germain 
 is the most fashionable quarter in Paris. All the Eng- 
 lish reside there your own people. Besides, it is near 
 the opera; and I am sure you can obtain excellent apart- 
 ments near the Cafe Conti which faces the Pont Neuf, 
 one of our most lively thoroughfares. The Cafe Conti, 
 too, is one of the best in the city." 
 
 Sir Philip found his brothers awaiting him at the 
 door of his state-room. He received the intelligence 
 they brought with some surprise, but a great deal of 
 satisfaction. He, a.s well as his brothers, had already 
 become attached to the colossal skipper. 
 
 A bright sun was gilding the fortifications of the old 
 French town of Calais when the packet entered the off- 
 ing, and promised a perfect day for the journey toward 
 the metropolis. With the exception of Hubert and 
 Ralph, the party was in the best of spirits, and very 
 patu-ntly permitted the luggage to be rummaged at the 
 Bureau." Then, after procuring, by the advice of 
 Dumesnil, "un passe avant " for each person, from a 
 sour-faced functionary, they repaired to the Hotel 
 D'Angleterre, then the favorite post-house at Calais, 
 where they were served with an excellent breakfast. 
 
 Seated around the well-spread table "quite like a 
 family party," as Mile. Sainte Maur smilingly observed, 
 our travelers entered with great animation into a gen- 
 eral discussion of their several plans and expectations 
 after their arrival at Paris. The joy of Paul, upon 
 learning, as he now did, that the whole programme of 
 the party seemed to have been arranged with special 
 reference to the wishes and pleasure of himself and 
 Clarise, was unbounded. He could not wait to finish 
 his coffee before hurrying off to his no less delighted 
 little confidante, to apprise her of their prospects.
 
 28 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 At the conclusion of the meal the landlord was sum- 
 moned, and the subject of conveyances broached. He 
 informed them that they were especially fortunate in 
 having arrived just at that time. He now had in the 
 yard, he said, a fine berlin and four, a light two-wheeled 
 chaise and pair, two thoroughbred saddle-horses, and 
 several good cobs, all of which had come in the night 
 before, bearing a large party of Englishmen who had 
 brought them from the metropolis and had that morning 
 started over. Everything, he added, was at the disposi- 
 tion of Mademoiselle and the gentlemen. 
 
 This information was received with delight. 
 
 "Nothing could suit us better," exclaimed Sir Philip, 
 who, the happiest of all at that moment, was so soon to 
 have his spirits dampened, and to find in his path a 
 crested serpent which would follow after him through 
 the most momentous portion of his existence. 
 
 " We will take everything," said he, after the matter 
 was briefly discussed" "have all in readiness within an 
 hour." 
 
 "And what shall we do with the hour?" inquired 
 Mile. Helene, gayly. 
 
 " Oh, pardon, there is the fortification and the 
 citadel,' 1 suggested the landlord; "they are very strong." 
 
 "That is so," remarked Dumesnil, "and as there is 
 very little else of interest to be seen in the town, 
 suppose we use our hour in walking around the walls. 
 But we shall find it more pleasant when we meet the 
 gens d'armes there, if we wear the cockade " 
 
 "Oh, I can supply them, Monsieur," and the accom- 
 modating landlord, who seemed to have everything at 
 hand, disappeared from the room, returning presently 
 with a number of those soiled cockades which were 
 supposed to denote the loyalty of the person in whose 
 hat they were seen.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 29 
 
 After a circuit of the defenses, which consumed 
 nearly an hour, our travelers again started toward the 
 hotel. As they came in sight of it, a party of five gen- 
 tlemen, evidently Frenchmen, each of whom was fol- 
 lowed by a lackey carrying a leathern bag, rapidly 
 approached the inn from the direction of the quay, and 
 entered the inn-yard a little in advance of them. These 
 personages, who had just arrived in a Dover boat now 
 lying in the harbor, were evidently of some consequence 
 in the eyes of the landlord, who met them with great 
 deference, and who appeared to know the title of at 
 least one of them. 
 
 This one, who was a trifle in advance of his com- 
 panions, glanced quickly around the yard, and remarked 
 to the one nearest him : 
 
 "Aha, you see that we are again fortunate to-day. 
 We arrive before the Englishman leaves, and we find 
 everything waiting for us." Then, to the landlord, 
 who stood with his hat held nervously in his hand, 
 " Sapristi, mine host, I congratulate you. You have 
 provided well for us." 
 
 "What is this you say, my lord?" inquired the host, 
 with a disturbed look. 
 
 "Come, come," exclaimed his Lordship, haughtily, 
 "you do not listen well. We expected to travel those 
 thirty-three posts to Paris on the backs of those sorry 
 hacks which you usually have here, since we do not like 
 the diligence; but these arrangements that you have 
 made are much better." 
 
 "Decidedly so," echoed the second of the strangers, 
 in a drawling tone. 
 
 The arrangements were certainly good. While this 
 appreciative party was entering the yard, the postillions 
 were bringing in the outfits for Sir Philip's party. A 
 large berlin with four superb animals attached to it, a
 
 30 HELENK SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 light French chaise drawn by two fine roadsters, two 
 powerful and spirited horses under saddle, and three 
 sturdy cobs; such was the inviting display which greeted 
 them. 
 
 In the booths of the two vehicles all the luggage had 
 been snugly piled, and all that appeared to be necessary 
 now was to pay the score and start on their journey. 
 
 But a quiet departure was not to be permitted them. 
 As they approached the inn, the foremost of the strang- 
 ers, who appeared to be the leader, exclaimed in a voice 
 unnecessarily loud and irascible: 
 
 "Come, come, I tell you, be quick. We wish to be 
 off." 
 
 "Pardon me, my Lord," returned the landlord, bow- 
 ing nervously; "it would give me great pleasure, I swear 
 to you " 
 
 "To the devil with your 'pleasure,'" cried the other, 
 angrily. "It is our pleasure we are considering, block- 
 head. Why, then, do you not remove that luggage 
 from the booths, so that our own may be packed' in? 
 Do you suppose that we intend to carry ballast?" 
 
 " But, my Lord Marquis," protested the now thor- 
 oughly distressed boniface, ''positively, I have nothing 
 left to provide you with. It would give me great pleas- 
 ure, I do assure you, my Lord Marquis " 
 
 " Sacre. A pest upon your 'pleasure,' I tell you! It 
 will be my pleasure to have you kicked to your 'sor- 
 row' directly," shouted the now irate nobleman. 
 
 "But, mon Dieu!" repeated the host, desperately 
 gesticulating with his crumpled hat; " I swear to you 
 that I have nothing left." 
 
 "Nothing left! What do you call all this outfit, 
 scoundrel?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly, my Lord Marquis, these are excellent 
 arrangements, as you have been pleased to say; but these
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 31 
 
 guests have engaged everything, and here they are now 
 ready to start, do you see. Oh, they will tell you, my 
 Lord; it is true." 
 
 " Devil scorch your tongue!" vociferated the noble- 
 man. "We want horses and vehicles, not words and 
 ^xcuses. And as these are ready and will serve our pur- 
 pose exactly, we will take them." 
 
 And without a glance at Sir Philip Belmore or his 
 companions, who by this time had come up and stopped 
 to listen in silent amazement, the chief of the party 
 ordered the lackeys to remove the luggage from the 
 booths and place their own in its stead. 
 
 But as the menials started to obey this astonishing 
 order Sir Philip stepped forward. The expression of 
 his eye, as it rested for a moment upon them, boded no 
 good either for themselves or their masters, and they 
 stopped abruptly. 
 
 "Sir," said Sir Philip, composedly, addressing the 
 Marquis, who turned quickly toward him with a menac- 
 ing frown, "have you not been told that these equipages 
 have been engaged for myself and people, and that this 
 luggage is ours?" 
 
 "Pooh," retorted the other, sneeringly, while the 
 scowl on his face deepened, " that is nothing to me." 
 
 The deliberate insolence of this reply was well cal- 
 culated to rouse the lion in such a man as Belmore, and 
 for a single moment the blood surged redly into his dark 
 cheeks. But, like all men of strong character, he was 
 master of himself the instant he reflected. His reply to 
 this insulting speech, therefore, was quiet and firm: 
 
 " Nevertheless," said he, fixedly regarding the other, 
 "it disposes of the whole question." 
 
 The handsome yet sinister countenance of the 
 stranger flamed with passion. Evidently, he was one of 
 those unfortunates who never acquire self-control, who
 
 32 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 have little reverence and no love for anything that inter- 
 feres with their own wishes. Instantly turning on his 
 heel, 
 
 " Here, rascals ! " cried he, gesticulating violently 
 toward the lackeys, who had sullenly awaited the result 
 of the colloquy; "do as I directed you, and be quick." 
 
 Again the men started toward the berlin ; but 
 before they reached it, a signal from Belmore brought 
 the three English valets instantly to the spot. They 
 were lusty fellows, and the eager light in their eyes 
 eloquently expressed their willingness to contest the 
 matter of dispute with the Frenchmen in their own 
 peculiar way. Sir Philip's man Guppy, whose round 
 and light blue eyes wore the stamp of honest good 
 nature, immediately thrust his robust person between 
 the lackeys and the side of the berlin, closely imitated 
 and in perfect silence by his two sturdy fellows. 
 
 The five dependents of the Marquis' party were for a 
 moment dumbfounded by this novel method of intro- 
 ducing hostilities ; but they attempted to stand their 
 ground, deeming it by no means difficult to do that 
 much at least, since they were five to three. 
 
 Then began a series of pushings, elbowings, grim- 
 aces, puffings and gruntings, and sudden feints, between 
 the disputants, so extremely ludicrous as to force a 
 smile from even Sir Philip, which broadened approv- 
 ingly as his rosy-faced follower, displaying a surpris- 
 ingly fine set of teeth to the scowling enemy, said to 
 them pleasantly: 
 
 "We're 'ere, gen'J'men ! as the Juke o' Marlborough 
 said to your Guv'ner of Montreuil." 
 
 Now, the taking of the French town by the English 
 Duke was of too recent occurrence for Mr. Guppy's 
 sarcasm to be received with indifference by the Marquis
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR, 33 
 
 and his friends. As for his Lordship, he turned pale 
 with fury. 
 
 " Drive them off, you rascals, or I'll flay you ! " 
 shouted he to the five varlets who were vainly trying to 
 push their three robust " interferences " away from the 
 doubly coveted berlin. 
 
 " Don't be 'ard on 'em, me lud !" adjured the amiable 
 Guppy, as he adroitly jammed the hat of his vis-a-vis; 
 adding cheerfully, " these babbies, sir, they're wery 
 soft." 
 
 But in spite of Mr. Guppy's generous advice to the 
 Marquis, he immediately evinced a disposition to ignore 
 it himself. For, urged to more decided action than 
 merely pushing by the sanguinary threat of his Lord- 
 ship, the lackeys now resorted to blows, the very first 
 of which landed (such is the invariable return for favors 
 shown !) squarely on the plump and comely cheek of the 
 humane Guppy himself. 
 
 " Yours received and there's a wery bad return, as 
 the man said w'en he throwed up 'is wittals." 
 
 While delivering this observation, Guppy had also 
 delivered a chin blow which sent his assailant under 
 the wheels of the berlin, a place of refuge which he 
 made no effort to leave. 
 
 " Give 'im one, Villiam ! Bring yer shoulder for'ard 
 w'en you 'it ! Lay 'im down, Peter it's all in fighting 
 now, so don't reach for hanythink but 'eads, fellers ! " 
 shouted Jeems, as he proceeded to repeat the same 
 operation on a tall fellow in front of him. For five 
 minutes more there was a general melee, a lively bob- 
 bing of heads, a plunging of fists in the direction of the 
 heads, and, as the last of the unlucky Frenchmen re- 
 ceived his quietus from the invincible fist of the skilful 
 Guppy, that fastidious champion gravely shook his very 
 blonde head, and observed to Mr. Trotter, pathetically:
 
 34 HELENE SATNTE MAUR. 
 
 " They vas too soft, Villiam! " 
 
 The valets were victorious; and, satisfied of this, Sir 
 Philip turned his attention to the feminine portion of 
 his party. But, at the very beginning of the contest, 
 Helene and her maid had retired to the parlor of the inn, 
 accompanied by the landlord, who thus prudently left 
 the settlement of the difficulty in the hands of his 
 guests. 
 
 But, if the lackeys were rendered " hors de combat " 
 by the valets, the difficulty was by no means settled, as 
 the next chapter will show.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF B 
 
 With a contemptuous glance at his disabled servants 
 who were ruefully mopping their bruised faces at the 
 yard-pump, the obstinate nobleman turned to his com- 
 panions and exchanged a few words with one of them. 
 This one, a tall and bearded person of grave aspect, in 
 turn conferred with the rest briefly. The result of their 
 deliberations was soon apparent. 
 
 Each of the five was enveloped in a talma of black 
 cloth, which entirely concealed his dress, as well as 
 the side arms then invariably worn by gentlemen. The 
 leader, however, now threw off his cloak as he advanced 
 to the spot where Sir Philip stood calmly awaiting him. 
 He wore a magnificent court-dress of buff velvet; the 
 collar of his coat was decorated with orders emblazoned 
 with jewels, and the sword at his hip was of the most 
 exquisite workmanship. His bearing, now, was no 
 longer that of a brawling cavalier, but that of the 
 patrician. 
 
 "Sir," began he, in a voice totally different from its 
 previous tone, but cold and passionless as his face now 
 was, " it seems, then, that we must settle this affair our- 
 selves." 
 
 Sir Philip's face exhibited a momentary surprise as 
 he composedly surveyed the other. Then, bowing 
 courteously, he said : 
 
 " If you consider yourself aggrieved, Monsieur, I am 
 at your service." 
 
 " I thank you," returned the stranger, an indescrib- 
 
 35
 
 36 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 able smile curving his lip for an instant ; "and as I do 
 not desire that you continue in ignorance of my motives 
 in seeking to chastise you, nor to permit you to suppose 
 that I would offer to fight without knowing that my 
 opponent was a gentleman, I will inform you that I 
 know you to be Sir Philip Belmore ; and further, that 
 the lady whom you are so fortunate as to have in your 
 party is also well known to me, and it is because of her 
 presence in your company that I have cut short my visit 
 in London, followed you here, and taken the pains to 
 interfere with your interesting arrangements." 
 
 This astonishing statement was received with looks 
 oi amazement by Sir Philip and his friends. But, before 
 a word had been spoken by either of them, the Marquis, 
 who had turned away, seemed to think that he had not, 
 after all, been quite candid enough, for he immediately 
 added to the general surprise by a further revelation. 
 
 " I will inform you, also, Monsieur," said he, return- 
 ing a pace or two, " that I know to whom you were 
 indebted for your introduction to the lady, and why so 
 much interest was taken in your behalf. Achille Dude- 
 vant, a journalist of Paris, who is now in London gath- 
 ering secret information for a parvenu gazette of the 
 diplomatic movements on foot with reference to France 
 and Austria, has reason to dislike me because I have 
 denounced him to the Minister as a seditious person. 
 For certain reasons, also, he has been led to believe that 
 what he has done toward making you and Mademoiselle 
 acquaintances and fellow-travelers, would seriously 
 annoy me. Well, I shall in good time reward this 
 Dudevant ; at present, I am interested in dealing with 
 you ! " 
 
 As the stranger concluded this extraordinary speech, 
 he stepped back among his friends with a menacing
 
 HELF.NE SAINTE MAUR. 37 
 
 expression in his brown eyes, coolly folded his arms over 
 his ruffled bosom, and awaited the effect. 
 
 Sir Philip had neither stirred nor spoken during this 
 amazing address; but, as the Marquis ceased, his brow 
 and cheeks suddenly burned with an intensity that 
 seemed to scorch them, and then as instantly paled. An 
 ominous light flamed into his eyes and remained there, 
 as, advancing a step nearer, he demanded: 
 
 "And pray, sir, who are you ? I care nothing for the 
 tedious explanation you have taken the trouble to make; 
 but I am somewhat inquisitive concerning the quality of 
 a stranger who proposes to cross swords with me." 
 
 "Monsieur shall be fully informed, " returned the 
 
 Frenchman, haughtily. " I am the Marquis of B , 
 
 and I am attached to the Court of his Majesty Louis 
 XVI." 
 
 Sir Philip bowed coldly, and, turning toward his 
 brothers, 
 
 "These gentlemen are my brothers, Hubert and 
 Ralph Meltham," said he; " they will act as my seconds." 
 
 "And," said the Marquis, presenting two of his com- 
 panions, "these gentlemen are my friends, Messieurs, 
 the Chevalier Vergiraud and the Viscount D'Artois, who 
 will meet you at once." 
 
 The four seconds immediately withdrew to a private 
 room in the hostelry, whHe Sir Philip, after another 
 interchange of cool civilities with the pugnacious noble- 
 man, proceeded to the public parlor alone, there to 
 await the consummation of the arrangements for the 
 first duel he had ever been called to fight. It was not 
 to be the last time, however, that he was to draw his 
 sword in France. 
 
 He had not expected to find any one in the public 
 parlor of the inn; but as he crossed the threshhold he 
 found himself face to face with Helene Sainte Maur.
 
 38 HELEN K SAINTK MA UK. 
 
 She stood in the center of the room, as if awaiting 
 him; and as he approached her hesitatingly, her eyes 
 sought his with a mystical look in them, and her voice 
 had in it a gentleness, a sadness of tone that sounded 
 exquisitely, infinitely sweet. 
 
 "You are about to fight a duel! " 
 
 "Why do you think so?" demanded he, stopping 
 abruptly. 
 
 "I know it," she returned, in the same tone, and she 
 held out her hand to him, which he took in both of his, 
 feeling the quick pulse in the delicate fingers with a 
 strange thrill, as he gazed at her with silent yearning. 
 
 "You know it," he repeated, in a low tone; "in that 
 case there is nothing to be said except, that if I fall, 
 you will attend my obsequies." 
 
 Helene moved her head expressively. " It will not 
 be you who will fall," she said, gravely. 
 
 Belmore smiled, "You speak very confidently," 
 said he; "and yet my antagonist can not be a novice in 
 the use of a gentleman's weapons." 
 
 ''Nevertheless," replied she, with strange emphasis, 
 "it is he who will fall." Then, as if to herself, "It is 
 most unfortunate." 
 
 Belmore started. He recalled the words of the Mar- 
 quis: 
 
 "This Marquis is well known to you," he suddenly 
 exclaimed, gazing at her moodily. 
 
 For a moment she looked fixedly at him, while he 
 strove hopelessly to read her thoughts through her fath- 
 omless eyes. As for his own, he saw that to her they 
 were as the printed page of an open book, and his con- 
 scious gaze drooped. 
 
 With a sigh scarcely audible, she said, slowly turn- 
 .ing her own gaze toward the window through which the 
 morning sun came in bars of red gold:
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 39 
 
 "Yes, this Marquis is known tome. Less than a 
 year ago he met me at the Court at Versailles. After- 
 wards he visited me at my chateau at Paris. I received 
 him- as I received others. Four months ago I left for 
 the summer tour which I usually make. He followed 
 me everywhere. I met him in the Alps, at Brussels and 
 in London. He was at the Minister's ball, and saw you 
 introduced to me by the former private secretary of my 
 deceased father, and I observed a flash of anger in his 
 eyes at the moment. Before I left London he came to 
 me with an audacious threat that he would certainly 
 prevent it if I attempted to travel to Paris in your com- 
 pany; that it was an impropriety, and soon. I informed 
 him at once that I knew quite enough of your ante- 
 cedents to feel perfectly at ease with your chaperonage, 
 and was not disturbed about the conventionalities. 
 Then I requested him to leave me, and to consider our 
 acquaintance finally ended. He professes to love me, 
 but that does not interest me in the least." 
 
 She paused, and for. some time was silent. She 
 seemed to be musing. Her fair head, draped in its 
 splendid hair, drooped While she thought, until the ivory- 
 like chin rested upon her bosom. Then the golden head 
 was flung backward, her eyes flashed with a light that 
 to Belmore appeared supernal her voice vibrated like 
 the chords of a harp : 
 
 " Do you know what such men are to me?" exclaimed 
 she, laying her hand that quivered with suppressed 
 feeling upon his arm. "Men? Ah, men only in their 
 own conceit. They imagine, these poor pigmies in 
 thought, that it is nothing the empire over a woman's 
 heart. Little monsters, they assume, with all the 
 effrontery -of ignorance, to sit where only the master 
 should be found, not the imposter. Ah, how often have 
 I listened (because I could not escape from it) to their
 
 40 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 dull gossip, to their wearisome platitudes, to their 
 senseless declamation! And always on a subject they 
 are hopelessly incapable of comprehending Love. 
 Heavens! with what disgust I have watched them while 
 they groveled. All their baseness of spirit, all their 
 despicable and puny stratagems, all their half-concealed 
 selfishness these despicable traits and motives and 
 impulses have driven me back into myself a thou- 
 sand times, and I emerge each time with a stronger, 
 more mournful conviction that for me, at least, there is 
 no companionship." 
 
 "Ah, my friend, you are merciless!" murmured 
 Belmore. But, as he watched the beautiful face made 
 transcendently so by the profound emotions induced by 
 her reflections, he began dimly to comprehend her 
 this woman who at first had filled him with dread even 
 while his heart went out to her. 
 
 "Merciless, do you say?" she answered him, her 
 scarlet lips parting with a smile that was bitter. "Ah, 
 if you only had a woman's penetration, with a woman's 
 opportunities to judge your sex no, not your sex, but 
 its boasted representatives you would not say that I 
 am merciless, but that I am just. I insist that the man 
 who is not by nature or education mean and cowardly, 
 is a rara avis, indeed." 
 
 " But you admit, then, that there are men of noble 
 natures and intellects, what of them ?" asked he, earn- 
 estly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, there are men who are not moral assassins, 
 I grant you that poor solace. But, do you tell me that 
 you know them ? Do you know what constitutes such an 
 one? Well, he must be a strong man, full of human 
 passion self-repressed, full of grand ideas, of grand 
 impulses, and capable of grand actions. Oh, such a man
 
 HELENA SAINTE MAUR. 4! 
 
 would be masterful, indeed, because of the greatness of 
 his soul, the humanity of his heart/' 
 
 "And if he were found ?" 
 
 " I would worship him ! " she answered, with a gest- 
 ure, a look, an intensity that electrified him. 
 
 " But do not think," she continued, slowly, " that I 
 would yield to him at first. No, he should first con- 
 vince my reason that he was greater of soul, greater of 
 intellect than I. He must be lord of himself to be lord 
 to me. Then, only, would I bow before him and confess 
 him master. Not abjectly, not humbly, but as a queen 
 receiving her consort. Yes, there would be a struggle 
 between him and me for supremacy over myself. A 
 struggle, perhaps, fatal to him, or to both of us." 
 
 "And if he conquered?" demanded Belmore, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "If he conquered," she answered, deliberately, "I 
 should yield; I should be his absolutely, irrevocably." 
 
 Belmore leaned his head upon his hands, deep in 
 thought, his brain in a tumult, his heart throbbing fit- 
 fully. At last he moved uneasily and said, gravely: 
 
 " You have an ideal; think you it will ever embody 
 itself in flesh and blood?" 
 
 Helene sighed again, as she turned her eyes dreamily 
 upon him. 
 
 " Only Time, that sole unerring logician, can answer 
 you and me." 
 
 Thus she answered him. Then, with a quick move- 
 ment that wafted the nameless perfume from her golden 
 hair into his face,' she rose and passed swiftly from the 
 room, leaving him involved in a chaos of maddening 
 speculation. 
 
 It was thus his brothers found him when they came 
 to recall him to the serious business in which he was so 
 soon to engage. Rousing himself from his abstraction
 
 42 HELENS SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 with an effort, he inquired, almost with indifference, as 
 they seated themselves: 
 
 " What is the time fixed for it ? " 
 
 " Six o'clock at sunrise to-morrow/' Hubert re- 
 plied, quietly. 
 
 " So long to wait ?" remarked Sir Philip, complain- 
 ingly; "and the place of the meeting? I trust it is in a 
 retired quarter." 
 
 "It is at Boulogne," explained Ralph, checking Sir 
 Philip's exclamation of annoyance and surprise. "Yes, 
 it must take place there. Boulogne is the third post- 
 town on our road to Paris. There is an excellent inn 
 there, Vergiraud says, called the Red Lion, where we 
 can obtain ample accommodations for 'all our people. 
 The Marquis and his party will be obliged to travel by 
 the stage-coach, which consumes seven days between 
 Calais and Paris ; therefore he will not be able to reach 
 Boulogne until to-night. At sunrise to-morrow, 'then." 
 
 "And the weapons?" 
 
 "Swords, of course. Fortunately, we have in our 
 luggage the pair you bought from the old fellow in Cor- 
 dova. They are exactly alike, of the same length and 
 weight and perfectly tempered. We have shown them 
 to Vergiraud and D'Artois, and they are delighted with 
 them. Therefore, they will be used." 
 
 Sir Philip nodded his approval of these arrange- 
 ments, and, rising abruptly, observed: 
 
 " We will set out at once." 
 
 In a few minutes all was bustle in the yard of the 
 inn; postillions and postboys trooped into the space, 
 escorting the redoubtable Guppy and his bold lieuten- 
 ants; and in half an hour the cavalcade was leaving the 
 scene of its first adventure far behind it.. 
 
 As Sir Philip leaned back comfortably against the
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 43 
 
 padded leather of the berlin, he turned to Helene with 
 a smile: 
 
 "I think I am starting out finely/' observed he; "I 
 have been in France just four hours; in that time I 
 have made extraordinary progress, it seems to me. I 
 have already involved our servants in a broil with nearly 
 twice their number, and myself in an affair that must 
 certainly terminate seriously to one of us, at least, with 
 one of the King's suite/' 
 
 " And one who has some reputation as a duelist," 
 remarked Helene, gravely. "But," she added, with an 
 assuring smile, "I have told you that he is about to lose 
 it."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DUEL-GROUND AT BOULOGNE. 
 
 The air of Boulogne, always moist and sodden, was 
 unusually thick and disagreeably cold on the morning 
 of the duel. The sun rose dull and red, a huge ball sus- 
 pended behind a curtain of gray. 
 
 The spot selected for the meeting was in that quiet 
 residence portion of the old bourg known as "high 
 town," and in the vicinity of an old convent, on the 
 edge of a grove of trees. The ground had been well 
 chosen; it was firm and even, and the perfect isolation 
 of the place ensured privacy. 
 
 At a quarter before six three carriages approached 
 the woods from the direction of the populous " lower 
 town," and, stopping only long enough to deliver seven 
 persons on the ground, were rapidly driven beyond the 
 grove, where they again halted and there remained. 
 
 Each of the party was wrapped in a sombre roque- 
 laure, and wore a soft beaver drawn down over the 
 eyes. As soon as the carriages were out of sight they 
 removed their hats and cloaks, and disclosed the features 
 of the principals, their seconds, and a tall, dark person- 
 age who carried in his hand one of those small leathern 
 cases used by physicians and surgeons. This gentleman, 
 who appeared to be perfectly at home in such matters, 
 deposited his case with grave deliberation against a tree, 
 and turned to the others, who awaited his movements in 
 silence. 
 
 "Select the ground, gentlemen," said he to the 
 seconds.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 45 
 
 "An easy task," remarked D'Artois, with a light 
 laugh, as they proceeded to pace the strip; "this bit of 
 earth has drank a score of times from the veins of 
 Frenchmen, although this is the first opportunity it has 
 had to taste the quality which an Englishman's yield/' 
 
 The rather questionable taste of this jest received no 
 notice from Sir Philip or his brothers. 
 
 Again came the order from the surgeon: 
 
 "Take your weapons> Messieurs." 
 
 The Cordovan swords, borne by Ralph Meltham in a 
 curiously carved box, were once more carefully in- 
 spected, the choice ' of selection being given to the 
 Marquis' side. 
 
 The deep and sombre voice of the surgeon followed: 
 
 "Take your places, gentlemen. " 
 
 Both men, who had divested themselves of their coats, 
 waistcoats and cravats, immediately faced each other. 
 
 The positions of the com'batants were some ten feet 
 from the edge of the woods and parallel with the line of 
 the trees, the thick and lofty foliage of which effectually 
 prevented the chance rays of the sun from reaching the 
 spot selected. 
 
 And now, these two who, until yesterday, were abso- 
 lute strangers to each other, but in whose breasts an 
 antagonism as bitter as if.it had been engendering there 
 for years was rankling, stood opposed in a contest which 
 one, at least, determined should be to the death. As 
 for the determination of the other it will be revealed 
 by what he did. 
 
 The seconds had performed the last duties required 
 of them until the fall of one or both of their respective 
 chiefs, and had retired a few paces. The surgeon, fold- 
 ing his arms, and with his back to a tree at the skirt of 
 the grove, stood for a moment silent, observant, and
 
 46 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 imperturbable. Then his lips, which in repose were 
 always rigidly set, parted. 
 
 "Are you ready?" came the last question, at once 
 significant and terrible. 
 
 " Yes," was the stern answer from both. 
 
 "Then begin ! " 
 
 There was no dramatic dropping of hat or hand- 
 kerchief for signal ; only those three crisp syllables, 
 grimly spoken. 
 
 Instantly the hilts of both weapons rose to the level 
 of the eyes that looked into each other so coldly and so 
 pitilessly, and the two blades met in a "St. Andrews 
 cross " above their heads. Then they parted to come 
 together at the flanks. And now they darted like zig- 
 zag- lightning, hither, thither, around the bodies and 
 heads of the combatants ; but, instead of groans, sounds 
 like the perpetual fallingof steel chains followed, instead 
 of blood sparks of fire. 
 
 For interminable minutes there was a bewildering 
 repetition of guards, feints, parries, and rapid thrusts ; 
 and then the men stepped back to regain their breath. 
 
 So far as it appeared to the eye, they were singularly, 
 well matched. Of the same height, with the same reach 
 of arm; broad of chest and narrowing at the hips; with 
 well -turned limbs and supple in wrist and ankle, an 
 experienced swordmaster would have pronounced them 
 admirable antagonists. 
 
 Thus far, too, they appeared equal in point of skill ; 
 that is to say, both had proved themselves accomplished 
 swordsmen, and neither had as yet obtained any advan- 
 tage over the other, or given a wound. 
 
 For the space of a minute, while the duelists rested, 
 all sounds had ceased except their quick and deep respir- 
 ations. But now they have again advanced, and again
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 47 
 
 the ring of the hungry steel echoes ominously through 
 the solemn woods. 
 
 Suddenly the impassive surgeon leans forward and 
 fixes his eyes upon Sir Philip's face, which he watches 
 as if he were witnessing some startling phenomena. 
 The seconds, too, creep forward apace, as they also look 
 on, with astonishment, with awe. 
 
 What is it they see ? 
 
 Sir Philip's face was undergoing a singular trans- 
 formation. His lips, merely closed before, now were 
 rigid ; so tightly were they pressed together that the 
 blood was driven back from them, leaving them as white 
 as his- brow . But a dark red spot burned in either cheek 
 and remained there, neither fading nor deepening. It 
 was the Saxon blood in his veins, the placid flow of 
 which had changed to a current of fire. The deep- 
 set eyes, that until now had shone only with stern 
 determination, began to dilate. Brighter and brighter 
 they grew, as if lit by a lurid torch from within. His 
 aspect and manner now were those of a gladiator. 
 Quicker and fiercer darted the blue steel in his hand. 
 Now it hovered over his adversary's heart, and it 
 seemed certain to find a fatal entrance there ; now it 
 came straight at the bared white throat ; then it darted 
 away and fanned the curling locks, as it circled like an 
 aureole around the doomed head. 
 
 Doomed indeed, it seemed. 
 
 The panting breath of the Marquis warned his friends 
 that he was giving way. With consummate skill he had 
 parried every stroke, anticipated every thrust thrusts 
 withdrawn, however, before they touched his body, by 
 the iron hand which, plainly enough now, was for some 
 mysterious purpose deliberately wearing him out. For 
 some time now, the Marquis had ceased to offer a thrust 
 or return a stroke, but confined himself to mere defense.
 
 48 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Plainly, he could do nothing more ; Sir Philip's sword 
 was everywhere at the same instant ; it was gripped by 
 a hand as elastic as a woman's ; a wrist as supple as the 
 neck of a serpent directed it ; but the soft white skin of 
 that hand and wrist covered ligaments of steel. Thrice 
 he could have disarmed his adversary, thrice he might 
 have given him a home-thrust that would have stilled 
 his turbulent heart forever, and still, with a smile on his 
 white lips which none who saw it understood, he for- 
 bore and waited. 
 
 For what ? 
 
 The five spectators of this singular combat were ask- 
 ing this question of themselves, -and finding no answer. 
 They had scarcely stirred, so deep was their absorption, 
 so breathless their interest, as they watched the terrific 
 play of Belmore's sword. Only once the surgeon, 
 roused out of his impassability, muttered: 
 
 " Pouf! This wizard has put life into his sword." 
 
 But the combat was now soon to be terminated ; and 
 in a manner secretly intended by Sir Philip from the 
 first, although totally unsuspected by the spectators. 
 
 The manner of the Marquis during the combat had 
 undergone several changes. At the first he was as cool 
 and passionless as his antagonist, yet arrogant and con- 
 temptuous. As the latter began to display his skill the 
 contemptuous sneer disappeared, and a look of surprise 
 succeeded. Then the patrician face became grave ; and 
 finally the color began to leave it. As he found himself 
 more and more at the mercy of his antagonist he grew 
 deathly pale, his respiration became more and more 
 painful, his breath coming at last in fitful gasps. His 
 emotion was that of shame, not fear; and his dark eyes 
 glittered with all the bitter rage of desperation, hate and 
 humiliation. He began to stagger, to reel ; and his lips
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 49 
 
 irocned blood. Plainly, it was time to bring matters to 
 an end. 
 
 The end was very near. 
 
 The sword of Sir Philip had become instinct with 
 motion. But now it played always about the face of 
 the nobleman, who soon exhibited signs of hopeless 
 bewilderment, as the terrible blade perpetually flashed 
 into his eyes. Step by step, not advancing, but circling 
 around him, Belmore pressed him closer and closer 
 until his hot breath could be felt upon his cheek. Sud- 
 denly, using the weapon as a poniard, he thrust the 
 point downward at the hilt of the other, withdrew it as 
 
 suddenly, and the Marquis of B staggered back 
 
 without a weapon. 
 
 Both the Cordovan swords were in the hands of Sir 
 Philip. 
 
 With a taunting smile on his lips, he held forth the 
 one he himself had used, and said: 
 
 "I have taught you something with this; take it and 
 try its temper on your lackeys." 
 
 The five witnesses of the duel, supposing it ended, 
 had started forward. But they stopped; every word of 
 this cutting speech had been heard by them; and, dis- 
 mayed, dumbfounded, they stood and stared at the 
 Marquis. The latter, roused to frenzy by the insult, the 
 object of which will hereafter be understood, ground his 
 teeth. Then, forgetting or overcoming his exhaustion, 
 seized the extended weapon, and, springing back into 
 position, shouted hoarsely: 
 
 "On you first, then!" and lunged madly at the 
 breast of his enemy. But the sword which had been so 
 easily wrested from the hapless nobleman proved quite 
 as terrible as its twin. The vicious thrust was as easily 
 turned aside, a counter-thrust was offered as a feint, 
 merely, which caused the Marquis to swerve so that he
 
 50 HELEXK SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 presented a perfect profile to his watchful foe. Instantly 
 the sword of Belmore was shortened, and the Marquis, 
 deceived by the movement which had before deprived 
 him of his own weapon, lowered his head. A swift pass 
 at the exposed face, straight across it and obliquely 
 upward, and, with a despairing cry, unlike that of either 
 
 fear or pain, the Marquis of B dropped his weapon, 
 
 covered his face with his hands, and fell to the ground. 
 When his friends reached him, the blood was trickling 
 in dark streams through his fingers, and he had fainted. 
 
 Without removing his hands, they lifted him up, and 
 bore him toward the convent. 
 
 The instant Sir Philip had giyen the coup de grace 
 to his adversary, he stepped quickly past the prostrate 
 body, and, without being observed by any one, picked 
 from the ground some small object which he hastily 
 placed in his handkerchief, and deposited in a pocket of 
 his coat. Then, without a glance at the fallen man, 
 and grasping his garments as he strode on, he signed 
 to his brothers, and disappeared in the grove, in the 
 direction of his carriage. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, Sir Philip and his party 
 were moving rapidly along the road toward Paris.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PARIS IN 1788. 
 
 The physical appearance of the Paris of one hundred 
 years ago was as different from the Paris of to-day as 
 our own magnificent Capital is different from the Wash- 
 ington of a quarter of a century past. In each case, the 
 necessity for extensive urban improvements at the 
 eleventh hour stirred the ambition and supplied the 
 courage of one man whose genius was equal to the task 
 of rehabilitation, renovation and recreation. To be a 
 public benefactor is to invite martyrdom; and in the 
 case of .both Hausmarm and Shepard, martyrdom was 
 the reward. Execrations, persecutions, contumely, 
 assailed them from behind the barricades of the press, 
 that coward's refuge of a licensed malefactor ; after 
 which the public proceeded to enjoy to the utmost 
 those grand benefactions, and with quite as much com- 
 placency as if it had not senselessly and cruelly de- 
 nounced their authors and sought to ruin them, and 
 with no more remorse than the savage brutes of the 
 jungle would exhibit. 
 
 The streets of Paris, as our travelers found them, 
 were narrow, crooked, badly paved and filthy lanes, 
 except in a few neighborhoods notably those of the 
 Faubourgs ("clusters of houses," etc.), Sts. Honore and 
 Germain, which were then the ultra-fashionable quar- 
 ters. Lanterns, suspended from hooks attached to tall 
 poles, at the intersections of the streets, were the only 
 illuminators; and their rays could be seen for scarcely 
 the distance of a hundred yards, twinkling dismally, 
 
 61
 
 52 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 and "making the darkness visible." No female, from a 
 child of twelve to a dame of fifty, unless deformed, or 
 whose ugliness rivaled that of the Witch of Endor, 
 dared venture alone on an isolated street after sunset; 
 and it was decidedly unsafe for any well-dressed man to 
 traverse them after dark without a companion or two, 
 as well as with trusty weapons. Collisions were con- 
 stantly occurring in deserted ways between "gentle- 
 men" (the term was not so well understood at that 
 period as at this), or between some impudent bourgeois 
 and lurking foot-pads, who burrowed during the day in 
 the great sewers. 
 
 The houses or residences of the nobility and gentry 
 were designated "hotels," "chateaux," "palaces," etc. 
 Some of these were of such immense size, and of 
 such elaborate arrangement, as to justify titles so pre- 
 tentious. Such was the residence of Helene Sainte 
 Maur, into which we are about to introduce the reader. 
 It was a spacious stone structure, built by a -feu'dal 
 ancestor, who had need of many apaetments for his 
 retainers, and sumptuous and elegant chambers for his 
 numerous guests. The last lineal descendant of this 
 forgotten great-grandsire, Helene felt for the antique 
 mansion a peculiar reverence, and could never be*per- 
 suaded to either dispose of it or change its strange 
 interior. The chateau, as it was properly called, was a 
 short distance west of the now spacious Boulevart of 
 St. Michel, south of the Seine where the river is crossed 
 by the Pont de Neuf, and not far from the Palais du 
 Luxemburg. 
 
 Immediately upon her arrival in Paris, Helene 
 repaired to the chateau, and summoned her servants who 
 had been sent away as usual during her absence, and in 
 a few days was fairly "at home." 
 
 As for Sir Philip and his friends, they had profited
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 53 
 
 by Helena's advice, and had secured admirable and ele- 
 gant quarters in the vicinity of the Cafe Conti, then one 
 of the best resorts for gentlemen that could be found in 
 the metropolis. They dined and had their suppers at 
 the cafe, but their breakfasts were served at their apart- 
 ments. 
 
 By the first of December Sir Philip and his brothers 
 had become familiar with the principal localities and 
 thoroughfares of the city, and were as much at home as 
 the natives, thanks to the guidance of the amiable 
 Dumesnil. The latter had at first evinced a disposition 
 to mope a little at the beginning of his new and some- 
 what over-peaceful life which was soon to be exactly 
 the reverse but the occupation of guide to three such 
 active and observant companions soon dispelled this 
 feeling, and he had now become the most cheerful and 
 agreeable of comrades. 
 
 Sir Philip, no less than his brothers, was surprised 
 at the station occupied by Helene Sainte Maur in the 
 social world of Paris. She was, indeed, one of its 
 queens, as he very soon discovered. As soon as it was 
 generally known that she had returned, and that her 
 chateau in the aristocratic Faubourg had once more 
 opened its great carved doors, friends and acquaintances 
 poured through them like an inundation. She was 
 widely known and cordially liked, and her acquaintances 
 were innumerable. Her friends, her "familiars," were 
 of a different class from the butterflies of the gay monde. 
 They were the brilliant men and women of that remark- 
 able period, when intellect seemed to have been put in 
 harness, that it might be driven at race-horse speed, 
 which the exciting political discussions, intrigues, 
 reform clubs, and schools of philosophy demanded. 
 Mademoiselle's receptions, dinners and coteries drew 
 these people as a powerful magnet draws; and, like the
 
 54 
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 magnet, infused into them its subtle aura the moment 
 they entered her elegant drawing-rooms. 
 
 Callers of both sexes, the beau monde of Paris, 
 fairly monopolized her during the daytime, and en- 
 croached upon her evenings ; and it was seldom that Sir 
 Philip had the happiness of an hour's interview with 
 her, uninterrupted by others. It almost invariably 
 happened, when he called, that some one else was either 
 arriving or leaving, so that an evening with her alone 
 was scarcely possible. 
 
 During one of these rare and precious tete-a-tetes^ 
 when he had found her alone in a delightful little room 
 near her pretty garden, she gave him a glimpse of her 
 proposed mode of life, the duties she had assigned to 
 herself upon her return, and her inclinations and pur- 
 poses. It had greatly surprised him and had rendered 
 him uneasy. She was apparently wholly absorbed in 
 her plans, and Sir Philip thought that she had under- 
 taken a task at once formidable and dangerous. She 
 was intimate with the chiefs of the Gironde, whom she 
 charged with extravagant theories, doctrines, and ten- 
 dencies. 
 
 "These people are full of impracticable notions of 
 government," she said, as slie faced him in her favorite 
 lounging chair, a fautcuil of white and grey velvet, 
 while he looked at her wonderingly. 
 
 "It occurs tome," remarked Belmore, "that your 
 Girondists are preparing to play in earnest the part of 
 Zeus, who, after emptying Pandora's box of plagues upon 
 the world, was necessarily dissatisfied with the condi- 
 tion it was left in, and sought to overturn the world and 
 create it anew." 
 
 14 Ah, I see you have been at the keyhole," returned 
 Hclene, with a pleased smile. Yes, these people are 
 dangerous from their very innocence. There is Roland;
 
 HELNE SAINTE MAUR. "55 
 
 he is purely Utopian. He has an insane idea that cap- 
 ital and labor can be made to fraternize, and that can 
 never be. Bring them together in a community of 
 interests, a ' co-operative community' it is called, and 
 you have only brought together the materials fora con- 
 flagration. The secret reason is that brains are forever 
 struggling, scheming, longing to dominate brawn ; and 
 wherever these brains exist a head rises above the sweat- 
 ing ranks, demands largesse from capital, and, if it is 
 refused, incites revolt among the proletariat. And then, 
 again, these sentimental friends of mine are teaching a 
 new so-called religion. Oh, they call it philosophy; but 
 it is simply a bundle of vagaries, calculated to confuse 
 weak or ignorant minds, and lead them finally into 
 believing nothing at all. Only yesterday, while I was 
 passing the Sorbonne, two lean and pale young students 
 coming from different directions, stopped abruptly, 
 stared at each other like two idiots, and one exclaimed: 
 
 ."' My friend, are you very sure that you have any 
 knowledge of anything? Are you certain that you 
 know what is knowable?' And the other replied: 
 
 " ' Mon Dieu, my friend, what we thought was knowl- 
 edge was after all only superstition.' 
 
 " Then, with a shrug and another idiotic stare in the 
 direction of the antipodes, they went abruptly on their 
 way. You can see, can you not, to what all this imbecility 
 must lead ? " 
 
 "Skepticism," said Sir Philip, tersely. 
 
 " Yes, that first, and then infidelity. After infidelity 
 anything." 
 
 For an interval, he sat watching her serious face, 
 noting her absorbed manner, and his brows betrayed the 
 moodiness of his thoughts. 
 
 "Well," said he, "do you imagine that you can 
 combat all these imbecilities? There are at least one
 
 56 HELENE SAINTE.MAUR. 
 
 hundred thousand incurables in this uneasy capital, and 
 the disease is spreading. What can you do to arrest it?" 
 
 "Oh," returned she, smiling at his lugubrious ex- 
 pression, as well as at his words which implied her 
 weakness, " there are only a score of those thousands, 
 and out of that formidable multitude there are less than 
 a score upon whom it is necessary to operate." 
 
 " I should like to see them," reflected Belmoi e, recall- 
 ing something he had heard of Danton, who was then 
 beginning to be talked of. As if she read his thoughts, 
 she exclaimed: 
 
 "You wish to see them. Well, come to my fete next 
 Wednesday evening you will receive cards for it to- 
 morrow, and you shall see some, perhaps all, of these 
 griffins." 
 
 "Ah, that will be a rare pleasure,' responded he, 
 brightening at the prospect of meeting her intimate 
 friends, and judging them for his own sake. 
 
 "Then I shall expect you. There are cards, too, for 
 your brothers, and for that good-natured giant whom 
 you carry about. Do you know that he literally encir- 
 cles me, when we chance to meet, with those great eyes 
 of his? Do not fail to bring him; I. shall have another 
 giant to converse with him Danton." 
 
 At the sound of that name Belmore started; he had 
 heard of him as an admirer of Mile. SainteMaur, but he 
 had not heard of the orator's ugliness. 
 
 He left the chateau with thoughts that profoundly 
 disturbed him. He knew the perturbed state of that 
 vast and dangerous majority known as the " People," 
 and when Helene told him confidently that the kingly 
 prerogative itself was in jeopardy from the latent dis- 
 content of these masses, he felt no surprise. And if an 
 emeute followed ? What an arena this Paris would be 
 for a woman such a woman as Helene Sainte Maur.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 57 
 
 Far greater would be her peril, he knew, than that of 
 any other, except the Queen. She would be a conspic- 
 uous mark for envy, for malevolence, even for the 
 assassin. 
 
 The night of the fete arrived, and with it a deluge of 
 rain. But in despite of this discouraging visitor, Sir 
 Philip's party found some difficulty in passing through 
 the crowded entrance. The drawing rooms, the ban- 
 quet hall, the library, and even the pavilion, were all in a 
 plethoric state, and still being fed from the inexhaustible 
 procession of vehicles of every description that were 
 making their momentary pause at the end of the canvas 
 awning outside. 
 
 This spectacle was to Hubert and Ralph Meltham a 
 revelation, and they entered the dazzling salon with a 
 sudden revulsion of feelings, until this moment obsti- 
 nately entertained, of the fair Parisienne. She received 
 them with a grace that was inimitable; and their prej- 
 udices were swept away forever. Then, as they saw the 
 adulation that followed her from every eye in that 
 splendid assemblage, they asked themselves if, after all, 
 Dumesnil had not been mistaken about her having been 
 the pupil of the impostor Mesmer? Or if, indeed, the 
 teacher of such a woman could be the charlatan they 
 had been led to believe him. Before the evening had 
 grown old, they had freely confessed to each other that 
 among her sex this woman stood peerless. Still, their 
 uneasiness on their brother's account was not in the 
 least abated by this change of feeling, of opinion toward 
 her. So brilliant a woman, wondrously endowed with 
 intellectual power which every one seemed to acknowl- 
 edge, of such superlative beauty and grace, courted by 
 the noblest of her own countrymen, capable of wielding, 
 and doubtless able to secure, a sceptre, if she chose, 
 was a prize more than difficult of attainment; and how-
 
 58 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 ever they admired their brother for his indisputable 
 superiority over other men, they believed his chances of 
 success in the contest for the heart of this goddess few 
 nay, desperate. And yet they had noted her manner 
 toward Sir Philip during the evening; they had seen her 
 observing him with a watchfulness of expression which 
 seemed to imply a hope that he would compare well 
 with those around him who were vieing for a tithe of 
 the attention she bestowed upon him. And Hubert 
 thought that he saw once a fleeting look of proud pleas- 
 ure in her eyes as she listened to a little discussion 
 between Sir Philip and Malesherbes, in which the former 
 made a brilliant impression even upon the venerable 
 jurist. 
 
 The fete was over. It had been pronounced by the 
 elegant habitues of the best salons of Paris an " ova- 
 tion," a "delight," and a " climax." 
 
 At three o'clock Sir Philip's party entered their 
 carriage; and Hubert, who recollected with amusement 
 with what a demure air the colossus had received the 
 enchanting attentions of Mademoiselle, inquired slily : 
 " Come, Captain, you are positivejy the only guest 
 who has not expressed an opinion of our delightful 
 hostess." 
 
 And Dumesnil, making a deprecatory gesture with 
 his enormous hand, growled under his huge moustache : 
 
 "Dame! I am of the opinion that she 'mesmerized' 
 me."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CLARISE DECHAMP. 
 
 The most favored member of Mile. Sainte Maur's 
 household was Clarise Dechamp, the confidential maid 
 whom we have already introduced. 
 
 Clarise was the only daughter of a poor tradesman; 
 and therefore belonged to that class of females called 
 vaguely "grisettes." An ancient edict had declared 
 black, white, and the gayer colors, to be consecrate to 
 royalty, the nobility, and the gentry; and the wives and 
 daughters of certain classes of citizens, including those 
 of the shopkeeper, were required to wear gray dresses 
 and robes, etc. From the color of their gowns, there- 
 fore, these honest women received the soubriquet "gris- 
 ette." The definition of the term had at length become 
 exceedingly vague, and its origin forgotten. It was now 
 applied generally to girls who earned their own living. 
 There were many Ironest grisettes, of course; but the 
 average grisette counted herself quite as virtuous as the 
 "grande dame," if she contented herself with one lover 
 at a time. Clarise, let us hasten to say, was not so easy 
 minded as these; and, previous to her acquaintance 
 with Paul Cambray, she had only indulged herself in 
 brief coquetries with her quondam and beardless 
 acquaintances. But whatever the affinity between herself 
 and him, they were neither of them long in discovering 
 it. Their natures were, it is true, decidedly different. 
 Clarise was a girl of remarkably shrewd and active 
 intelligence, an adventurous and bold disposition; Paul, 
 on the contrary, was somewhat shallow, egregiously 
 
 C9
 
 60 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 conceited, by no means quick of apprehension, but i..-; 
 was affectionate, had excellent taste, and was very good 
 looking. These were exactly the "properties" which 
 the grisette (of Clarise's type) most appreciate. Faith- 
 ful, affectionate, provident, and with true maternal 
 instincts which required some one to look after and to 
 care for, she found in this " boy," as she was pleased to 
 think of him, just what her nature and character seemed 
 to require. A mutual attachment soon followed, and 
 for the first time in her young life Clarise said to her- 
 self: 
 
 " Mon Dieu, what would the poor boy do without 
 some one to take care of him, in this great Paris? It 
 was all very well while he was a clerk on a channel 
 packet, under the arm of that good Monsieur Dume- 
 snil. But now it is different. He is a bank clerk in the 
 City, and he must be looked after, and he must be 
 always careful of his habits. Besides, he is a good fel- 
 low, and he loves me." 
 
 Paul's lodgings were, thanks to a little clever man- 
 agement, not very far from the Sainte Maur 1 residence; 
 and thither Clarise went every morning, after the com- 
 pletion of her mistress' toilet, to put his rooms in order, 
 and bring away any garment which needed a stitch or a 
 button. These duties she had cheerfully imposed upon 
 herself, and she fulfilled them with unfailing regularity. 
 
 Two or three evenings in the week the young people 
 spent together. Sometimes they visited the play ; but 
 usually, when the weather was fair, they enjoyed stroll- 
 ing back and forth in a charming little street which has 
 long since been absorbed by the Jardin des Plantes, or 
 lingering in the moonlight on the Pont des Tournelles, a 
 quiet bridge which led over to beautiful lie St. Louis. 
 
 During one of these walks, on an unusually mild 
 evening in which the breath of summer seemed infused,
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 6l 
 
 notwithstanding the season, Paul had been for some 
 time moodily silent, and Clarise had been silently 
 observing him. At length, he said to her, with a little 
 brusquerie: 
 
 " Clarise, it is highly probable that I shall have an 
 affair of honor on my hands, shortly." 
 
 Clarise looked up quickly and peered into his face. 
 She had refrained from asking him the cause of his tac- 
 iturnity; but, with her usual tact, she had tried to dis- 
 pel it by her cheerful manner and conversation, until 
 she saw that talking annoyed him ; then she became as 
 silent as he. She very well knew he would end by tell- 
 ing her the cause of his moodiness ; but she certainly 
 did not expect anything like the communication he had 
 just made. It startled her a little ; but she replied very 
 quietly: 
 
 " An affair of honor ; a duel. That is serious." 
 
 But Paul had expected an outburst <sf grief, of 
 alarm. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! " cried he, indignantly ; "do you care no 
 more about it than that? 'Serious,' indeed! Well, I 
 should say it was." 
 
 Clarise raised her star-like eyes to his, and with her 
 little pink finger-tips pressed his arm reassuringly. In 
 a soothing voice she said: 
 
 "Tell me all about it." 
 
 Certainly, this was exactly what Paul had been 
 desiring to do for the space of an hour. He therefore 
 began, in a most dramatic manner, to relieve his mind 
 of his trouble, and as a man always will to burden 
 hers with it. 
 
 A young flaneur (that is, one of those idlers who are 
 eternally found lounging on the boulevards in the search 
 of frivolous adventures) had been introduced to Clarise 
 at the theatre Comedie Francaise some weeks previously
 
 62 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 by Paul, whom he had known for some time. It was a 
 masquerade affair, and he had seen little more than her 
 sparkling eyes. He had made several futile attempts to 
 induce her to meet him afterwards; and, being an insuf- 
 ferably conceited fellow, her refusal to reply to his notes 
 had piqued him greatly. 
 
 While Paul was on his way to the chateau that eve- 
 ning, to take Clarise our for their usual promenade,nhis 
 person had met him in the Boulevart St. Germain. His 
 face was flushed from wine, his temper. decidedly irrita- 
 ble. Stopping in front of Paul, he said: 
 
 "Good evening, my friend, you seem to be in a pro- 
 digious hurry?" 
 
 And as Paul politely bowed to him and attempted to 
 pass on, the fellow called out to him, in a bantering 
 tone: 
 
 " Bah, I know where you are going; but I have my 
 eye in the same direction ! " 
 
 " At that," said Paul, " I turned back to him. ' I do 
 not understand you, Monsieur, '.said I. 
 
 " ' Oho, that is it,' returned he, with a sneer; ' we are 
 very innocent, are we not? Well, then, that pretty girl 
 you call Clarise does not care a fig for you, my friend. 
 When you presented me to her, she gave me a look out 
 of her black eyes which delighted me, but made me feel 
 at the same time sorry for you. Her black eyes. Yes, 
 they are very black, indeed, and very expressive.' 
 
 "With that he made a grimace, and looked at me 
 hard. I began to understand him. ' What do your 
 words imply, D'Artivan ?' I demanded. ' What was it 
 you saw in her eyes?' 
 
 "D'Artivan laughed insolently, and replied: 'Oh, 
 they said very plainly, this Monsieur Paul Cambray is 
 a truckling ass; he is excessively tiresorne. Come and 
 see me ! And I have had the pleasure of seeing her a
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 63 
 
 number of times since then, I might as well inform you, 
 and she decidedly prefers me to you.'" 
 
 " Ah the wretch," cried Clarise, now decidedly 
 aroused. " He has seen me two or three times, behind 
 a closed window of the chateau, when he was lounging 
 in the street opposite, that is all; and I am quite certain 
 he would not even know me if he should meet me again. 
 But what reply did you make to him ?" 
 
 "The fellow had been drinking, and it had made him 
 foolish, as it always does. So I said to him: 
 
 " ' Look here, D'Artivan, you have insulted me, but 
 since you are drunk I will take no notice of that. But 
 you have also insulted the lady whom you have taken 
 the liberty to name, and since she is my honored friend 
 you shall answer to me for it.' Then, in a twinkle, he 
 became serious, and, tapping, his rapier hilt bravely, he 
 told me where to find him, if I wanted him. And then," 
 concluded Paul, furiously, "he said with a scornful 
 laugh, ' However, you will be certain to forget the 
 place,' and with that another insult, do you see ? he 
 swaggered off." 
 
 " Well, what address did he give you, and what 
 time did he say he would be there ?" demanded Clarise, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Oh, the address he gave me is a place where he 
 goes every day to dine. But pardon me, my dear girl," 
 concluded Paul, drawing himself up stiffly, and assum- 
 ing a tone which secretly amused Clarise ; " I am not at 
 liberty to disclose anything further. Besides, such affairs 
 are not for women to meddle with." 
 
 " Oh, very well," assented Clarise, smiling to herself, 
 and, as they were now leaning over the parapet of the 
 bridge, she looked down into the moonlit waters and 
 softly hummed a little madrigal. 
 
 The pearl-gray dress of the young girl shimmered in
 
 64 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 the moon-rays like a robe of silver; and her rounded 
 and graceful figure was strikingly nymph-like, her 
 piquant face exceedingly pretty, as she leaned over the 
 railing, with two little white fists propping her chin. 
 
 But, with a lover's inconsistency, and a man's vanity, 
 Paul indignantly resented this apparent indifference. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " exclaimed he, after impatiently ob- 
 serving her awhile, "have you nothing to say, then ?" 
 
 Clarise turned away from the parapet, placed her 
 hands in each other as one does who is about to con- 
 sider something serious, and asked: 
 
 "What do you intend to do ?" 
 
 "I shall call him out!" replied he, fiercely, as he 
 twisted his moustache. 
 
 " That is to say that you intend to fight a duel ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 "And he will have the right to declare whether it 
 shall be with swords or or something else ? " 
 
 "Certainly, but of course it will be with swords; it 
 will not be with muskets, poor child," and Paul laughed 
 at the drollness of the idea. 
 
 "No," returned Clarise, undisturbed, "but pistols 
 are often used, now. Well, he is very near-sighted, and 
 I think he would select swords. Does he fence well 
 has he fought before?" 
 
 " How should I know? " answered Paul, impatiently. 
 
 "And you do you fence well?" persisted Clarise, 
 growing every instant more matter-of-fact. 
 
 Paul moved a pace or two away, as if to consider 
 this very practical and by no means unimportant ques- 
 tion, before replying to it. Then he said, with some 
 hesitation: 
 
 " Oh, I fence tolerably well, I suppose. I took les- 
 sons from Captain Dumesnil, who is a great swordsman;
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 65 
 
 and lately I have had some practice with a student who 
 lives next door to my lodging-place." 
 
 Clarise shook her head. 
 
 "And when you meet this D'Artivan, what will you 
 do?" 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" cried Paul, retreating upon his imag- 
 ination at once, " I shall wound him in the face 
 twice." 
 
 "And why in the face ? " asked Clarise, watching 
 him narrowly. 
 
 " Oh, because he thinks himself so handsome, and 
 and I want to to spoil his good looks, don't you see," 
 concluded Paul, who, in fact, was still plagued with a 
 little jealousy, when he thought of the Lothario's boast. 
 
 " But suppose he does not give you the opportunity 
 to wound him in the face ?" persisted Clarise. 
 
 "Oh, I shall certainly find an opening," replied Paul, 
 unconscious of the fact that every word he uttered was 
 adding but further proof of his disqualification for the 
 role of hero. 
 
 After a little demure meditation, Clarise removed her 
 hands from the position deliberative, and placed them 
 in the position belligerent; that is, upon her hips, with 
 her elbows, which were very white and softly dimpled, 
 aggressively prominent. Then she attacked Monsieur 
 with a~ question that was decidedly to the point. 
 
 " How many lessons did Captain Dumesnil give you? " 
 
 Paul looked embarrassed. 
 
 "Well, five, then." 
 
 Clarise regarded her inconsiderate lover with a look 
 of motherly pity. Then she placed one little palm 
 against her cheek and reflected for the space of a minute. 
 Her temptingly rosy under-lip assumed a pouting ex- 
 pression, and she patted her little foot absently against 
 the flagstones.
 
 66 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Evidently, she had found it necessary to take Paul in 
 charge. He had not thought of anything except his 
 resentment. But Paul, we have already said, was not 
 as intelligent as his sweetheart. Besides, in such cases, 
 it is the woman who thinks of everything. 
 
 " Paul," said Clarise at last, " I will come to your 
 rooms to-morrow evening at precisely eight, and fence 
 with you. We shall then see." 
 
 " What do you say ? " shouted Paul, in astonishment. 
 Then, approaching her slowly, 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you can fence ?" 
 
 " Certainly," replied Clarise, crisply. " I learned 
 it from a great master, while my mistress and I were in 
 Palermo." 
 
 Paul was dumbfounded. As he offered his arm to 
 the young girl, for it was time for them to go home, he 
 muttered to himself: 
 
 " Only to think of it a girl who can fence ! " 
 
 But Paul was not yet done with surprises.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAUL'S JOKE. 
 
 At half-past seven on the following evening, Mon- 
 sieur Paul Cambray entered his apartments with a 
 debonaire step and a smile on his lips which gently 
 elevated his silky moustache. But he also brought with 
 him something else besides the smile a box of bonbons 
 and a pair of toy swords, made of tin, which he placed 
 on his table. The smile was a compliment to his own 
 fine sense of humor; and the tin swords well, they 
 were to assist him in perpetrating a little joke upon his 
 sweetheart. Afterwards, he would offer her the bonbons 
 as a sort of propitiation. + 
 
 The fact is that Monsieur Paul had been thinking a 
 good deal over Clarise's proposition to teach him how 
 to fence, and he had convinced himself that his rebuke 
 of the night before had provoked her to humble him a 
 little in return. When she came to see him this evening, 
 he said to himself, she would have forgotten all about the 
 matter, and he would tease her by offering her the tin 
 swords. Ah! He could already see the look of chagrin 
 in her demure little face; and "he laughed heartily in 
 anticipation. 
 
 When Clarise entered the neat sitting-room, she 
 carried in her hand a long pasteboard box, such as were 
 used for those immense sunshades in vogue with the 
 Parisian ladies. This she placed on the table, without 
 observing the articles intended for her. Then she seated 
 herself comfortably in a chair, folded her hands, and 
 looked smilingly at Paul. But her smile was only a 
 
 - 07
 
 68 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 salutation; it soon gave place to a look of unusual 
 gravity. She appeared preoccupied. 
 
 "Well," observed Paul, who had been watching her 
 with a facetious expression, "it seems we have been 
 shopping to-day ?" 
 
 Clarise nodded. Then she sighed restfully, and 
 remarked: 
 
 " It was such a task." 
 
 "No doubt," returned he, glancing amusedly at the 
 parasol box. 
 
 "Yes," continued Clarise, gravely. "I had a great 
 deal of trouble about it. Those shopkeepers are so 
 excitable now, and they ask so many questions. And 
 oh, the eternal cant one has to endure from them. It is 
 'citizen' here, and 'citizeness' there. How I detest it 
 all." And Clarise indulged in a little frown, that brought 
 her finely-arched eyebrows close together. 
 
 "I agree with you," responded Paul, warmly. "Yes, 
 dirt and ignorance, brutality and insolence, are making 
 this Paris insufferable. Ah, this leper-smitten Paris ! " 
 
 Paul had suddenly become gloomy. He rose from 
 his chair, and stared uneasily out of the window. 
 
 " Everybody has changed," continued he; "even our 
 friends. There goes Dudevant now, who took so much 
 pains to accommodate us, you recollect ; a nibbling 
 critic whom I once rather liked. Do you know that he 
 came back here, after playing the spy in England for 
 six months, to join Couthon ? Yes, that cripple Couthon 
 has made him his secretary, and his real business is to 
 write screeds against Danton, who is hated and envied 
 by the Jacobin." 
 
 "Couthon is a devil," murmured Clarise. 
 
 "Of course," assented Paul. "According to Greek 
 mythology, every devil that fell from Heaven became 
 instantly lame."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 69 
 
 " Oh, that reminds me," exclaimed Clarise, who cared 
 very little about the'classics; " who do you think visited 
 my mistress to-day? " 
 
 "Oh, Dulagre, of course," suggested Paul, indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 " Ugh ! That fellow with eyes like a rat's ? Not he. 
 Although it is true that he follows her like a shadow. 
 He does not get into the chateau often I assure you. I 
 believe he is a spy of the Marquis." 
 
 -"Very likely." 
 
 "Well try again." 
 
 " The King, perhaps," said Paul, laughingly. 
 
 Clarise tossed her curly head indignantly. 
 
 " My mistress would not receive a visit from the 
 King, sir," she retorted, sharply. Then, impressively: 
 
 ' It was somebody who has more power than the 
 King." 
 
 What do you tell me?" cried Paul, staring hard. 
 " Who can you mean ? " 
 
 Clarise leaned forward, placed both hands on her 
 knees, and replied : 
 
 " Mirabeau." 
 
 Paul was astonished. 
 
 " Oh, what a woman ! " exclaimed he, pacing the 
 room excitedly. " Wherever she appears she conquers. 
 And still it is not strange," he continued, stopping in 
 front of Clarise ; " she is greater than any of them. Oh, 
 she will never be a wife." 
 
 " Indeed," exclaimed Clarise, bridling at once ; " and 
 pray tell me why ?" 
 
 "Because she will never wed any man who is not 
 her equal, and she is not likely to find such an one. 
 But, after all, it is strange that she has no ambition." 
 
 "On the contrary," returned Clarise, with much 
 emphasis, " my mjstress is all ambition. But she desires
 
 7O HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 love first. . It is true, as you say, that she could only 
 love one as great as herself, or greater. Well, her 
 ambition is to find such an one, and to make him still 
 greater." 
 
 Then there was a pause. Suddenly, Paul's thoughts 
 reverted to the promised lesson. 
 
 He began to approach his purpose in a circle. 
 
 "Can Mademoiselle, with all her gifts, handle a 
 sword ?" asked he, with a smirk. 
 
 " Handle a sword ?" repeated the girl, with animation. 
 "Decidedly. She was the most finished pupil the old 
 maestro at Palermo had." 
 
 " Indeed?" returned Paul, greatly amused ; " then it 
 was Mademoiselle herself who took lessons." A.nd 
 Paul's smile melted into a laugh, as he approached the 
 table. 
 
 "Apropos, my dear," said he, putting one of the tin 
 swords in her hand, " it is time is it not, for us to begin 
 our exercise?" 
 
 Clarise took the toy, examined it, reflected for a 
 moment, and said, quietly : 
 
 " I see." 
 
 "Well, come," laughed Paul, "shall we begin ?" 
 
 "Directly," answered she, without taking any notice 
 of his mirth. " But let us first come to an agreement." 
 
 "Oh, "cried Paul, with increasing mirth; "you need 
 not be afraid of them, I assure you they are perfectly 
 harmless, and I will not hurt you." 
 
 "I believe you," replied Clarise, drily. " But, listen : 
 Whoever loses in the contest shall wear one of these tin 
 swords with its red-painted hilt, all day for three full 
 days. It shall hang at his side by its little strap, in full 
 view, and there shall be no staying indoors during the 
 three days. Is it agreed ?" 
 
 Paul clapped his hands, and laughed immoderately.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 71 
 
 "Oh, my poor little Clarise !" cried he; "only fancy 
 yourself marching in and out of my lady's chamber like 
 one of those pigmy bodyguards of ancient Egypt J" 
 
 "Be still, will you," ordered Clarise, impatiently. 
 "Are you afraid, then ?" 
 
 " Afraid ? Come, that is too good. Let us begin, my 
 child." 
 
 " Well, do you agree ? " 
 
 " Of course I agree. So much the worse for you, my 
 poor child." 
 
 "Very well, then, it is time to commence." 
 
 With this, Clarise advanced, in her turn, to the table, 
 and, opening the pasteboard box, produced before the 
 astonished eyes of Monsieur Paul two excellent steel 
 foils, with buttons at the points. 
 
 "Take one," she said, laconically; " they are precisely 
 the same, I think." 
 
 Paul was no longer smiling; on the contrary, he 
 looked very sheepish. However, he took his position, 
 very stiffly indeed, foil in hand. 
 
 " Do not stand that way," corrected Clarise, paying 
 no attention to his embarrassment. Then, taking him 
 by the shoulders, she gave him a little twist, and then 
 directed him how to point his feet. His ankles as well 
 as his wrists seemed positively to have no joints. 
 
 " Gracious ! " cried Clarise, as she next removed the 
 foil from his hand; " do not hold it as you would a meat 
 ax. There so," and she closed his fingers over the hilt 
 lightly, pressing his thumb down against the guard. 
 
 Having thus got him in order, and given him a very 
 red face, Clarise took her own weapon in her small but 
 strong little hand, and faced him, the length of the foil 
 distant. 
 
 " You are too close ! " complained Paul, who was
 
 72 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 becoming nervous. Evidently, he had forgotten some 
 of the Captain's instructions. 
 
 But Clarise gave no heed to his objections. 
 
 " Now, on guard ! " she commanded, sharply, raising 
 her own weapon. 
 
 The next instant they were at it. And it must be 
 confessed that they presented a fine contrast. Clarise, 
 all suppleness, coolness, alertness; Paul, all clumsiness, 
 heat and nervousness. The bout did not last long. In 
 exactly four motions Clarise had touched him over the 
 heart; in four more she had sent his foil spinning across 
 the room. 
 
 Paul looked at it ruefully, then at her, inclined to be 
 angry. But Clarise stood surveying him with perfect 
 gravity; there was no sign of triumph in her glance. 
 
 " Let us try it over," said Paul, testily, as he picked 
 up his foil. 
 
 But Clarise shook her head. 
 
 " But you know it was an accident," he insisted. 
 
 This was excellent: and Clarise found it quite diffi- 
 cult to repress a smile. 
 
 " My dear," she said, "it is these little 'accidents 
 which always happen to the one who loses the fight. 
 No, you will not do. I will give you a lesson for an 
 hour every night for one week; then we shall see." 
 
 Clarise replaced the foils in the box, and was about 
 to reseat herself, when she discovered the bonbons, 
 one of those sweet necessities of a grisette's life. It 
 was she who was smiling now, but not over her lover's 
 discomfiture. And while the sugar plums were melting 
 succulently behind her very firm and very white little 
 teeth, she reminded him of the penalty he had brought 
 upon himself, and consented to release him from it, 
 provided he would inform her of the whole matter
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 73 
 
 concerning D'Artivan, " just to gratify her curiosity," she 
 explained. Paul accepted her terms at once. 
 
 Clarise left him then, a.id in a rather crestfallen 
 state. He was decidedly dubious now about the size 
 of the scars he had intended to leave on the smooth 
 cheeks of his boastful rival. 
 
 As for Clarise, she had formed a resolution of her 
 own, which, however, she kept to herself. What that 
 resolution was, and how she kept it, will in due time 
 appear. Suffice it for the present, that she was prepar- 
 ing another and the greatest surprise of all, for Mon- 
 sieur Paul, and for some other people also.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE CAFE 1 OF THE THREE VIRGINS. 
 
 The Cafe of the Three Virgins, some twenty paces 
 from the more aristocratic Cafe Conti, was, during the 
 period of which we write, principally the resort of 
 students and journalists. All the small gossip of the 
 day was circulated there with that freedom and vivacity 
 which characterized the two classes referred to, and 
 gave them prestige over every other as news-gatherers 
 and newsmakers. 
 
 This Cafe had been recommended to Achille Dude- 
 vant, on the day of his arrival in Paris, by a young 
 scribbler of his acquaintance named Gascoigne. The 
 two, bent upon the same errand, met on the Pont Neuf 
 near the Palais de Justice, and in a moment were in 
 each other's arms. 
 
 "Ah, mechant!" exclaimed Gascoigne, shaking an 
 enormous head of hair, which was as sanguinary of hue 
 as the doctrines he was paid to support; "you have then 
 returned to help us set the fashion, eh ? " 
 
 " To what fashion do you refer, my friend ? " inquired 
 Dudevant, who was always willing to listen. 
 
 "The deuce. But then you have been out of Paris. 
 Well, old France is learning from young America. In 
 fact, the revolution over the water has turned the heads 
 of half the people; and the doctrines of the American 
 Paine, who claims that he was the chief instrument in 
 bringing it about, are exciting our philosophers' upon the 
 subject of religion; but you are better informed than 
 you pretend to be. I know that you are a friend of that 
 
 74
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 75 
 
 little green-livered lawyer, Robespierre, whose eternal 
 smile gives me the chills. Well, this poor devil of a 
 lawyer, who carries a green bag filled with political docu- 
 ments instead of briefs, has, doubtless, kept you well 
 filled. But come and dine with me to-morrow. Here 
 is the card. At four o'clock, mind you. And, by the 
 way, you will meet Long Nose there. He dines with me 
 every day. A clever fellow, but insane on one point 
 he would do anything for notoriety, no matter about 
 the quality. You will come ? " 
 
 " Yes, and with right good will. I know the place 
 very well. Au revoir." 
 
 Then the two, rejuvenated, parted with a vigorous 
 handshake. 
 
 On the following day Dudevant found the menu and 
 the company at the cafe so acceptable, that he very 
 readily agreed to meet the two inseparables every Sat- 
 urday at four, that they might dine together and com- 
 pare notes. 
 
 Now, the landlord was a man of ideas ; and on the 
 day after the three journalists had taken their first din- 
 ner together, he said to his wife: 
 
 " Listen to me. You know that Monsieur Gascoigne 
 him of the red hair?" 
 
 " Ach," answered the lady, who was German; " noisy 
 f<-lli)\v. And his friend, Long Nose I know not any 
 other name for him, and he likes that one with his long 
 moustaches that he gets in the soup and then wipes on 
 the table-cloth ? And the new one, that Dudevant, with 
 his black eyes that eats me, when he looks at me with 
 them " 
 
 " Parbleau, cease!" shouted her impatient spouse; 
 ''you have tongue plenty for one thousand sandwiches." 
 
 'Iluh. I believe I may speak myself already," 
 retorted she, indignantly.
 
 76 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "Well, well, pardi, listen. They are to come to-mor- 
 row, that is Saturday, and at the same hour." 
 
 " Four o'clock, yes, and they staid until six, but they 
 did not eat much," said Madame, in a calculating tone. 
 
 " But they had four bottles of Coste Rotie, at two 
 livres ten sous the bottle." 
 
 "So." 
 
 "Good, that is better than meat. Well, listen. Do 
 you know what that fellow, who is so proud of being 
 called Long Nose, said to me, after the fourth bottle 
 was dusted?" 
 
 " Ach, I stopped mine ears up, they speak all at the 
 same time." 
 
 "Pouf! Well, this Long Nose said: 
 
 " ' Lachat, come here, you lascivious monster, I want 
 you.' And when I protest to him, he shouts : 
 
 " 'What, were you deceiving us, then? Come, where 
 are those three virgins? Aha, let us see those three 
 virgins! ' 
 
 "And then I, Pierre Lachat, who use my brains 
 and make my tongue their servant, Madame Lachat, do 
 you see, I said : 
 
 "' Messieurs, you shall see those three virgins every 
 night but this one. To-night they are at church.' 
 
 " 'Ah, ah,' said Long Nose, with a great laugh; 'then 
 they are devout as well as innocent. Well, Lachat, we 
 will come here next Saturday at the same hour; and 
 mind that vou do not let them go to church before Sun- 
 day.' 
 
 " ' It shall be so, Messieurs,' I said; and they believed 
 me. Very well, listen: 
 
 "' I shall get me three very ugly women, yes, I war- 
 rant you they shall be no children; and I shall discharge 
 Alphonse, and Albert, and Francois, who are going into 
 the National Guards. Yes, yes, those three gay boule-
 
 HELENE SAIXTK MAUR, 77 
 
 vardiers, they do not spare young and pretty girls, and, 
 besides, they are fond of a joke. So do you see, Lachat 
 will be talked about, and it will bring custom. Ah, 
 Lachat knows his business. '' 
 
 And so it transpired, that when the three bonvivants 
 came to the cafe, on the Saturday mentioned, three hide- 
 ously ugly and angular spinsters walked up to the table, 
 each wearing a white muslin frock, a white apron and 
 an austere frown, and mildly asked for the three orders. 
 But the three "virgins" were greeted with a chorus of 
 shouts. 
 
 "Ah, Lachat, you rascal, you have played us a fine 
 trick ! " vociferated Long Nose. 
 
 " Relics of the Middle Ages !" cried Dudevant, star- 
 ing at the poor women with astonishment, which they 
 returned with interest. 
 
 "Harpies!" screamed Long Nose, darting that 
 immense organ forward, as he ogled them. 
 
 Then the three guests burst into uncontrollable 
 laughter, in which they were joined, more discreetly, 
 however, by Lachat, who was peeping through the key- 
 hole on the other side of the kitchen door. 
 
 This was more than the unlucky waitresses could 
 stand. For a moment they glared at their customers 
 dumbly; and then, seized by the same impulse, tore off 
 their aprons, flung them on the floor, and fled from the 
 place, leaving Lachat and his wife in consternation, and 
 their guests in convulsions. 
 
 Dudevant was the first to recover his balance; and, 
 on looking idly around, he perceived Lachat dolorously 
 shaking his head and lamenting the predicament which 
 the too free use of his " brains " had placed him in. A 
 sudden idea occurred to Dudevant himself, the conse- 
 quences of which, to him at least, were eventually as
 
 78 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 tragical as those of Lachat's recent " idea " were com- 
 ical. 
 
 " Lachat," he called to the disconsolate host, who was 
 now undergoing, as a matter of course, a scoring from 
 his wife at his stupid "jest; " " Lachat, you played us a 
 trick, it is true, but we are sorry for you. Now, I will 
 tell you what to do. For the remainder of to-day, that 
 is, until midnight, myself and my two friends here will 
 put on the aprons and serve your customers, while you 
 occupy yourself in procuring new waiters. And, mark 
 you, Lachat, on this condition, you are to treat us 
 exactly as you would real waiters, and you are to call us, 
 if you have occasion to speak to us at all, by the names 
 of your old waiters. Is it agreed ? " 
 
 Lachat looked from one to the other of his eccentric 
 guests, bewildered and silent. 
 
 "Yes, yes, by all means, we will have it so," cried 
 they, pressing forward; "come, Lachat, you owe us 
 something for our disappointment." 
 
 " Very well, then," assented the restaurateur, scratch- 
 ing his head, with a doubtful air. 
 
 " Enough," said Dudevant, removing his coat; "get 
 us the jackets, the aprons, and some of your own tog- 
 gery; show us a place to make our toilets in, and, mean- 
 time, get us some soup and a ragout, with a bottle of 
 Frontinac, and send it into the chamber to us. We shall 
 soon be at our posts, I promise you." 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, the three guests, now trans- 
 formed into three solemn- faced waiters, stationed them- 
 selves behind as many separate tables. 
 
 Neither of the three was long without customers; 
 and customers, too, who made themselves exceedingly 
 interesting, especially to Dudevant. As for his idea, it 
 was destined, droll as it then appeared to him, to be a
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 79 
 
 fatal one, as we shall hereafter see. For the present, 
 however, it was to end merely in an adventure decidedly 
 to his liking. 
 
 In the meantime, Lachat, having seen the improvised 
 waiters in their respective places with evident satisfac- 
 tion, placed his hat on his head with the air of a pro- 
 prietor who employs none but the best in his estab- 
 lishment, and sallied into the street, observing, as he 
 went out: 
 
 " I am going to Issy, where there are some honest 
 fellows from Brittany, who love the King. I want no 
 more National Guard chaps. I shall return to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 As for Madame, who was the purveyor of the res- 
 taurant, that worthy dame equipped herself with an 
 enormous covered basket, and went off in search of the 
 usual Saturday evening supplies, an errand from which 
 she seldom returned before ten o'clock. 
 
 Left thus entirely to themselves, with no one nearer 
 than the cook in the kitchen, the waiters had already 
 begun to enjoy the situation immensely, when just as 
 the little clock which stared out from the wall of the 
 cafe had tinkled seven strokes, two young men, dressed 
 in the extreme of the fashion, wearing their rapiers 
 ostentatiously, and chattering like magpies, entered the 
 saloon, and were politely seated by Gascoigne. whose 
 table was nearest the door. 
 
 "What will you have, gentlemen?" asked he, with 
 an air which gave no suspicion that he was a novice. 
 
 " Oh," answered one of the two, a dark-featured Gas- 
 con, whose manner was provokingly impertinent; " bring 
 us some kind of fish, a fowl each, truffles, the 'etceteras,' 
 and three bottles of Hermitage. And, look you, fellow, 
 do not shake the bottles." 
 
 This " Hermitage " was a favorite wine with de-
 
 So HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 bauchees, since, although much stronger than the other 
 table wines then in use, it left no very disagreeable 
 effects from its too free indulgence. 
 
 While Gascoigne was absent in the kitchen delivering 
 this order, a tall and sedate gentleman, somberly dressed, 
 came in quietly, and seated himself at the table presided 
 over by Long Nose. This personage attracted no atten- 
 tion from the two gossipers, as, in a deep and curiously 
 measured voice, he gave his order for a moderate dinner 
 without wine. Nor did he give more than a passing 
 glance at them; immediately relapsing into himself, and 
 thereafter paying no attention, apparently, to the clatter 
 of tongues at the next table. 
 
 The loquacity of the two convives was, in fact, extra- 
 ordinary, and to Dudevant, who was observing the new 
 arrival, his indifference appeared suspiciously affected. 
 
 The conversation of the two fashionables was led by 
 the Gascon, who addressed his friend as Eugene, and 
 was in turn addressed as "Victor." The latter was 
 probably twenty-five years of age, yet his shrewd and 
 cynical face, and confident and ready speech, interlarded 
 though it was with frequent insipid phrases, belonged 
 naturally to a much older man. 
 
 " Do 3*ou know," observed he, as he held the ends of a 
 long and black "imperial" between his thumbs and 
 forefingers, " we had -no right to expect any better 
 things from the King? When his grandfather died he 
 declared that he did not know how to reign. Ah, if 
 Louis XV. had only given up the ghost twenty years 
 sooner, what a fortunate death it would have been for 
 France, and especially for Louis XVI ! It was a relief, 
 when he did go, to everybody except the parasites." 
 
 "Well, there was no weeping, pardieu! among the 
 people that is certainly true. And what a devil of a 
 hurry they were in to get him under ground! And no
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 8l 
 
 wonder; he is said to have laughed just before he died, 
 and said: 'After all, I do not complain; there is no 
 more juice in the orange; France is bankrupt.' This 
 he actually said to his mistress, who did not wait for 
 the carriage to take him to St. Denis, before she began 
 to pack her wardrobe." 
 
 "Poor France! " observed the Gascon; "always in 
 the toils of a woman! There is Jeannie Poisson, who 
 never in her life could rid herself of a fishy name or a 
 fishy smell, much as she insisted on being called Mad- 
 ame La Pompadour. When she found that Louis was 
 never able to understand a mot until she explained 'it to 
 him, she became ennuied, and, being ambitious, turned 
 her talents to greater account by ruling the kingdom as 
 well as the King." 
 
 "It is very strange," mused the other; "even our 
 men of brains are mere toys in the hands- of these 
 intriguantes. For instance, Danton, that new captain 
 of the Jacobins. Danton can thunder in the tribune 
 like another Jove, but he can also ' mew' in the boudoir 
 like a grimalkin. They say he has five mistresses now 
 and that they are all savagely jealous of each other." 
 
 "Heavens! No wonder he raves, then, when he gets 
 in the Convention. His enemies there are not half so 
 terrible as the petticoats." 
 
 "But now, they say, he is chasing a star; that is, he 
 is after Venus." 
 
 " Peste, my friend," sneered the other, " you are not 
 in good taste; you are mysterious." 
 
 "Oh, well, then," returned his companion, coloring 
 with a touch of resentment, " to be plainer, if you wish 
 it, he is in love with Mile. Sainte Maur." 
 
 "Sacre! with that incomprehensible? She who is in 
 league with Lucifer? That icicle?" 
 
 "Tut, tut," retorted the purveyor of this surprising
 
 82 HELENE SAIXTE MAUR. 
 
 news; "rumor is always wrong, especially if it comes 
 from the gazettes. I know some of these fellows who 
 write; they are magnificent liars, that is all." 
 
 This unconscious shot at Dudevant struck him 
 between the teeth. He raised the napkin he carried on 
 his arm, to hide the anger that shone in his face, but of 
 course he could say nothing. " Devil take the fellow," 
 he contented himself with saying, under his breath; "I 
 will pay him for that sometime." 
 
 "You see," continued the speaker, "it is all owing to 
 the lessons she took from this great scientist Mesmer, 
 that she is able to play such havoc. Still, she has the 
 semblance of an angel, and may have been one.* At any 
 rate, everybody has remarked the likeness she bears to 
 the great huntress of the Greeks, and you know Diana 
 herself was changed into Hecate. However, Danton 
 should keep his head, even though he can not retain his 
 heart. He will soon need the first with Robespierre, 
 who is anxious to try Doctor Guillotin's machine on it." 
 
 "But, after all, Robespierre declares that he adores 
 blood and brains, and Danton has plenty of both." 
 
 "Oh, Robespierre likes blood and brains, yes. Pooh! 
 so does the pole-cat. When it finds a poultry yard, it 
 feasts on nothing but the blood and brains of the fowl. 
 Yes, to be sure, Robespierre is the pole-cat, and Paris is 
 his poultry yard." 
 
 Another stab at Dudevant, whose face was now pur- 
 ple behind his napkin. 
 
 "Ah, well," reflected Eugene, "Danton has his 
 friends. There is his Achates, Camille Desmoulins, who 
 has written such stirring incendiarisms over the name, 
 'Attorney-General of the Lantern.' " 
 
 " And who will help behead his friend by his impru- 
 dences. He has already given the Convention the idea 
 of using the street lantern posts for gallows. After
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 83 
 
 awhile the idea will recoil upon this poetaster Desmoul- 
 ins." 
 
 At this moment, there entered the cafe an exceed- 
 ingly handsome but effeminate appearing youth, of 
 perhaps twenty, attired in the dress of a cavalier, and 
 wearing a fine rapier. He was rather short of stature, 
 but he was perfectly formed, though a trifle too sloping 
 on the shoulders. His short upper lip was graced by a 
 black moustache; black and short locks of curling hair 
 clustered around the cream and rose-tinted face; while 
 from under his gray beaver (which he did not remove) 
 two bright black eyes glanced boldly around the room. 
 Evidently, this handsome youth possessed an independ- 
 ent spirit, and one not easily subdued. 
 
 Seating himself at the table attended by Dudevant, 
 he gave an order for several dishes, in a musical and 
 clear voice, and began humming a popular air. 
 
 Dudevant's manner, as he took the order, was, to say 
 the least, surprising. He started, stared at his customer, 
 colored redly; and, coughing violently, as if to conceal 
 his embarrassment, went off toward the kitchen with the 
 gait of one who has had a sudden and unexpected 
 shock. He was gone a long time; and in the interval of 
 waiting, the youth continued to hum his lively air, 
 oblivious, it was seen, to everything in the place except 
 his elegant and very small boot, with which he amused 
 himself by tapping with his rapier's sheath. He was not 
 permitted to monopolize himself very long, however; he 
 had attracted the attention of the two at Gascoigne's 
 table. They proceeded at once to guy him; and the 
 very pointed remarks which came from that quarter 
 were quite loud enough for him to hear as they in- 
 tended he should. 
 
 "Soh!" cried Monsieur Victor, ogling him impu- 
 dently; "here is a fledgeling that has not moulted. He
 
 84 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 seems to invite some one to pluck his feathers, eh, 
 Eugene ?" 
 
 At this deliberate attack the youth fixed his dark 
 eyes upon the speaker with a resentful expression in 
 them; but he said nothing and ceased to hum to him- 
 self. 
 
 "A pretty nestling!" continued the Gascon, who by 
 this time had disposed of his bottle of " Hermitage " 
 and was decidedly ripe for mischief. "Yes," he repeated, 
 rising from his seat and approaching the young stran- 
 ger, who began softly stroking his delicate moustache 
 with a hand as fair as a woman's, and certainly as small, 
 while his eyes were now fixed upon the floor. 
 
 " Can you use that plaything?" inquired the obtru- 
 der, mockingly, as he laid his hand on the youth's sword 
 hilt. 
 
 "Yes!" retorted the latter, suddenly bounding out 
 of his chair; and in an instant the weapon was out of 
 its scabbard. " And with this 'plaything ' I am going 
 to teach you to dance, ruffian! " 
 
 Then, as the astounded bravo recoiled, the cavalier 
 advanced upon him, exclaiming: 
 
 " Draw, fellow, draw! "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DUDEVANT AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The amazement of the Gascon at the peremptory 
 invitation of the youthful stranger was as profound as 
 it was ludicrous. His arms fell drooping at his sides, 
 his rather large mouth opened with a gasp, and he 
 stared at the " ruffled gallant " without uttering a word. 
 
 The astonishment of Monsieur Eugene was almost as 
 great as his friend's, but not so prolonged. 
 
 "Peste!" cried he, coming forward and surveying 
 the challenger with a stare no longer impertinent, but 
 displaying intense curiosity; "who have we here in this 
 boudoir knight ? " 
 
 "It matters not who I am," retorted the young- 
 stranger, impatiently. "This bragging fellow has 
 insulted me, and if he is not a coward, he will give me 
 satisfaction. Come, now," he continued, contemptu- 
 ously ; " is he afraid ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," promptly replied Eugene. " My 
 friend will fight you, of course; but this is no place for 
 such an encounter. We can arrange " 
 
 But the youth impetuously interrupted him, 
 
 "He must fight now," cried he, stamping upon the 
 floor, angrily. 
 
 The three soi-disant waiters had gathered around 
 the group, scarcely less interested in the affray than 
 they. 
 
 Dudevant nudged Gascoigne. 
 
 " Ma foi," whispered he, with a covert laugh; " here 
 L; tin: best of luck for us! Our adventure was well 
 
 85 '
 
 86 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 planned; it is going to amount to something. I say, 
 Gascoigne, let us help this brave youngster against that 
 bully who has insulted our profession so grossly." 
 
 "Certainly," Gascoigne whispered back; "besides, 
 the poor boy will need it." 
 
 " Pshaw, you are wrong, if you think him a baby. I 
 know him." 
 
 "What, you know him?" ejaculated Gascoigne, sur- 
 prised and more curious than ever; "Well, then, who 
 the devil is he?" 
 
 " It is Monsieur Aubrey," replied Dudevant, in a 
 very loud whisper. Then, turning toward the belliger- 
 ent pair, who were frowning at each other in precisely 
 the same way that two old women would have done." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, with great politeness, "behind 
 the Caf6 there is a little garden with a very high wall. 
 It is a very private and convenient place, and no one 
 will disturb you there, I can well assure you of that. 
 If it is agreeable to you, I will show you the way to it." 
 
 "Do so, then," commanded young Aubrey. "I pre- 
 sume Monsieur will not object? " addressing the Gascon, 
 who by this time had become entirely sober, and was 
 taking the matter very seriously indeed, considering the 
 jocular way in which he had brought it about. 
 
 'Oh, I am at your service," replied he, with affected 
 indifference. 
 
 "Let us go, then," said Aubrey, briefly; and the 
 whole party started at once toward the rear of the 
 saloon. Dudevant walked in front, at the side of the 
 youth, to whom, as he opened the door to the garden, 
 he whispered: 
 
 "Do not start or exclaim I know you." 
 
 "And I know you," replied the other, quietly, and 
 without evincing the least surprise. "You wonder what 
 all this means, do you not?"
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 87 
 
 "By Jupiter! I am nonplussed!" 
 
 " And" I no less so, to see you in a waiter's apron, in 
 a second-rate cafe," returned the :, outh, with a satirical 
 smile which showed marvelously fine teeth. " However, 
 this is an age of adventure, is it not? So, let us wait 
 until there is no cockatrice at our heels to charm our 
 tongues before we exchange confidences. But stay. 
 Go you back to the table where the middle-aged gen- 
 tleman sits alone and bring him into the garden. He 
 is a surgeon, and is, like very few of our sex, a discreet 
 man." 
 
 "Ah, you know him, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Very good. I am at your disposal, even if you 
 should desire me to take this little affair off your hands." 
 
 The youth's eyes flashed scornfully. 
 
 " Do you think I am not in earnest with this con- 
 temptible fellow? Well, you will see. I intend to 
 chastise him by leaving my card, as they say, buttoned to 
 his cheek. Go, and bring the surgeon back with you." 
 
 "But suppose he will not come?" 
 
 " Pshaw, it is I who asked him to come here. It is 
 not desirable, however, that these fellows should be 
 informed of that; so, Doctor Souchon will not stir until 
 some one summons him." 
 
 "A thousand wonders! muttered Dudevant, as he 
 hastened to obey, " what is going to come of this ?" 
 
 A second later, and just as the parties were taking 
 their places, Dudevant reappeared with the surgeon, 
 who quietly walked to a corner of the garden, and 
 turned his back t^ the party. 
 
 Aubrey led off witho 1 t wasting any time. He was 
 fully three inches shorter than his adversary, but as 
 agile as a cat. The Gascon was soon convinced that the 
 " ruffled youth " was at least no novice in the handling of
 
 88 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 a rapier; and, while he himself was no bungler, it was 
 quite evident, to the chagrin of his friends as well as 
 himself, that he stood but a poor chance of worsting his 
 young opponent. The latter darted in and out from 
 him with a swiftness and dexterity that was bewildering; 
 at the same time keeping his own person skilfully cov- 
 ered, while he occasionally cried out, in a tone of sar- 
 casm that was maddening to his victim: 
 
 "Dance, dance, I tell you ! " 
 
 And dance the Gascon did, in spite of himself; that 
 is to say, he was compelled to skip hither and thither in 
 the most ludicrous fashion, simply to avoid the point of 
 the other's steel, which every instant threatened to probe 
 him. In fact, this will-o-the-wisp seemed quite capable 
 of making him dance, and also of skewering him, when- 
 ever he choose to do so. 
 
 At length the youth made a very clever body feint 
 which completely deceived the Gascon, and left the face 
 of the latter fairly exposed. Before he could recover 
 his guard, he received a blow on the left cheek, which 
 laid it open to the bone, and sent him reeling back into 
 the arms of his friend. 
 
 "Oh, Mon Dieu! " he cried, in the accents of a dying 
 person; "he has killed me! Ah-h, my friend, I am a 
 dying man a dead man! Help ugh-h." 
 
 And with his eyes turned upward, his face streaming 
 with blood, he appeared, indeed, to be telling the truth. 
 The surgeon hastened to him, drew from his pocket 
 some lint and a box of ointment, and, calling for a 
 sponge and a basin of water, was instantly absorbed in 
 manipulating the wound. 
 
 But, if the Gascon's conduct verged upon the ridic- 
 ulous (for he was by no means seriously wounded, nor 
 even disabled), that of his enemy was incomprehensible. 
 At least it was so to all except Dudevant, who apparently
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 89 
 
 saw nothing surprising in it. The delicate face of the 
 youth became colorless, r.he plump figure trembled, and 
 he gasped, faintly: 
 
 " Take me into the cafe and call a carriage." 
 
 Dudevant promptly offered his arm, and Aubrey, 
 leaning on it in great agitation, returned to the saloon 
 and tottered to a chair. 
 
 Having assisted him into the seat Dudevant called 
 out: 
 
 " Long Nose, bring me a glass of wine, and do not 
 be an instant about it." 
 
 Long Nose did as he was bidden, and, as he handed 
 the wine to Dudevant, he whispered : 
 
 " Sapristi, you forget that I am Alphonso. And 
 your friend, too; it seems he also has lost his head." 
 
 " Never mind," returned Dudevant, waving his hand 
 impatiently. " Now, then, run and fetch a fiacre, and be 
 careful that you do not fall over your nose. You will 
 find one at the Pont Neuf." 
 
 This order Long Nose also hastened to obey, and 
 without stopping for his hat or removing his apron. In 
 a few minutes he returned, with an English-looking per- 
 son at his heels. 
 
 Dudevant, who was vigorously fanning his friend, 
 scarcely glanced at the man, as he said, sharply: 
 
 " Here, my man, get on your wheels at once, and take 
 this gentleman to the address he will presently give 
 you." 
 
 But, instead of instantly obeying these summary 
 orders, the man stared at the young cavalier with a look 
 of intense astonishment. Then, over his rosy and good- 
 looking countenance there rapidly spread a smile that 
 was indescribable. He was about to speak, when Aubrey 
 raised his eyes and saw him standing motionless before 
 him. The color came suddenly back into his cheeks, he
 
 9O HELENS SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 gave the man a swift sign to be silent, and, springing 
 from his chair, walked briskly toward the door, saying 
 in an undertone : 
 
 " Come on, Mr. Guppy, and take me home, if you 
 please." 
 
 "With all me'eart," responded that genial individual, 
 for it was indeed he; and without any further hesitation, 
 and with the gravity of a bishop, he assisted Monsieur 
 Aubrey into the fiacre which stood at the door. In 
 another second he was whirling rapidly away from the 
 Cafe of the Three Virgins, in the doorway of which three 
 masculine and eager faces, with the nose of Long Nose 
 in the center, remained as long as the fiacre was in sight. 
 
 The opportune appearance of Mr. Guppy, although 
 a surprise, is easily explained. His indulgent master 
 allowed him certain half-holidays, and, this being one, 
 he had gone to the kitchen of the Cafe Conti to meet 
 an old acquaintance from London, who had adopted the 
 whip for his profession on migrating to Paris. His 
 stand was close to the Pont Neuf, and there his friend 
 found him. The wine at the Cafe Conti had proved, in 
 the vernacular of Mr. Guppy, " too willainous "eady," 
 and he was constrained to assist the " whip " to a bed. 
 
 With a thoughtful regard for his friend's interest, 
 Guppy had taken temporary charge of the fiacre; and, 
 being a person of keen eyesight as well as of prompt 
 action, he was the first to espy Long Nose flying toward 
 the bridge, bareheaded and wearing the apron of a 
 waiter. He had very adroitly allowed LongNose to rush 
 squarely into his arms, and, of course, secured him. 
 
 There was an ecstatic twinkle in Mr. Guppy's eyes 
 as he drove on with the dexterity of a practiced cabby; 
 and he addressed himself with a sententious force which 
 greatly relieved his feelings: 
 
 " Well, 'ere's a lark! I'm floored! "
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FERDEAN, THE MONEY-CHANGER. 
 
 When the precise extent of Monsieur Victor's wound 
 was ascertained by the surgeon, he was turned over to 
 his friend by the professional gentleman, with a dry 
 suggestion that in future he should know his man better 
 before attempting to pull his ears. Monsieur Eugene's 
 concern thereupon speedily changed to contempt. He 
 requested Dudevant to send for a fiacre, but the latter 
 explained that he and his two friends were alone in the 
 restaurant, that they were only volunteer waiters, and 
 he must go for a conveyance himself. "Although," he 
 observed, maliciously, in the hearing of the collapsed 
 flamboyant, "your friend is more damaged in his nerves 
 than in his person." 
 
 Monsieur Victor, who had proved so unworthy of his 
 name, scowled angrily at this offensive speech, and, shak- 
 ing his hand at Dudevant threateningly, said: 
 
 " Oh, you shall pay for this, I tell you. I know you 
 now, and I believe you are at the bottom of this busi- 
 ness, Scelerat! " And, without waiting for a reply, he 
 took the arm of his friend, and left the cafe. A fiacre 
 was found in the vicinity, into which Eugene placed 
 him, and, coldly bidding him good-night, quietly slipped 
 away, and left him to his own reflections. 
 
 Thus abandoned, the Gascon rode off to his lodgings 
 in a tumult of passion. After several alternate spasms 
 of rage and muttered promises of revenge, he reached 
 his rooms. By this time he had partially consoled him- 
 
 91
 
 92 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 self for his defeat at the hands of a " boy," and was so 
 preoccupied in brooding over Dudevant's supposed par- 
 ticipation in the affair, that he had almost forgotten the 
 pain from which he was still suffering. He had not 
 exactly formulated a plan; but he had resolved to locate 
 his youthful conqueror and watch for a favorable that 
 is to say, a safe opportunity to pay him off with double 
 measure. He was quite capable of taking revenge in 
 any form in which it might present itself; he would 
 not be at all particular as to the means he should be 
 obliged to employ. . 
 
 But when he entered his rooms he ran to his glass; 
 and as he looked at his reflected and now ugly and sin- 
 ister image, he uttered a howl of rage. A hideous scar 
 extended half-way across his cheek, and he realized, the 
 moment he saw it, that it was likely to leave there a 
 broad and deep cicatrice which would disfigure him for 
 the rest of his life. As he glared at the caricature of 
 himself, his fury became uncontrollable, and he gave 
 himself up to it with an abandon that was frightful to 
 witness. For an hour or more he continued to invoke 
 unspeakable, calamitous, and unheard-of curses upon 
 Dudevant and the young stranger who had so sadly and 
 fairly worsted him; and then, exhausted at last, he threw 
 himself down upon a settee, and sunk into a sullen 
 stupor. 
 
 The whole nature of this man was evil; and Dude- 
 vant, as well as the young duelist, had aroused in him 
 not the lion, but the cobra, whose slimy and sinuous 
 folds they were yet to feel coiling about their unguarded 
 throats. It is doubtful, indeed, if he had ever in his life 
 experienced an emotion that was not ignoble or vicious. 
 Vindictive, malicious and treacherous, he possessed the 
 confidence of no one, and the good will of, few. He 
 had come to Paris some five months previous to
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 93 
 
 his unlucky adventure, to enjoy himself, he said; 
 and he claimed to own an estate in Gascony, some- 
 where near Bayonne, which yielded him a compe- 
 tent income, although it appears that his improvi- 
 dent habits brought him to the end of his monthly 
 receipts in about half that length of time. He had 
 made the acquaintance of Paul Cambray soon after his 
 arrival, and had sought his company constantly, and 
 had secured at least the good will of the young man, 
 until he was, unluckily, introduced to Clarise at the 
 theatre, where she had participated in a charade that 
 required her to wear a half-mask and domino. He had 
 only obtained a partial view of her face on that occasion; 
 and, as Clarise had truthfully said, he had seen her sub- 
 sequently at a distance through a closed window of the 
 chateau, to which he had followed her on the night 
 referred to, hoping to find future opportunities of 
 attracting her toward himself. 
 
 On the morning of the Saturday following his 
 encounter at the cafe, he went out for the first time for 
 a promenade. He was feeling languid and disconso- 
 late, and in a mood to welcome the companionship of 
 any acquaintance he might chance to meet. He had 
 passed several whom he knew, but they hurried past 
 him with averted faces, or with a sidelong smirk. 
 
 " Thousand devils ! " he muttered, between his set 
 teeth; "that sneaking Dudevant has informed every- 
 body." 
 
 He turned off the boulevard, and with a vague 
 impulse sought Paul Cambray's quarters. Paul was at 
 home, the bank's closing hour on Saturday being twelve 
 o'clock. He received his visitor with surprise, which 
 was greatly increased when he saw the red scar upon 
 his cheek. 
 
 "Oh, it is you, Monsieur Victor D'Artivan," he
 
 94 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 exclaimed, coldly, and with a great deal of embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes, of course it is I, my friend," replied the Gas- 
 con, whose assurance, at least, never deserted him. "I 
 have come to ask you to overlook my conduct when I 
 met you some time ago. The fact is, I was fuddled." 
 
 Then D'Artivan held out his hand. 
 
 Paul's embarrassment gave way to renewed sur- 
 prise and, it shall be said in his favor, genuine pleasure, 
 at this apparently manly acknowledgment of his offense 
 by the man whose two cheeks he had lately been so 
 eager to disfigure. 
 
 But, how was this? Here was his late enemy with 
 one of his cheeks in that very condition, and, yes, plainly 
 from the stroke of a weapon ! What could it mean ? He 
 stared at D'Artivan's face, while he cordially shook him 
 by the hand, and, leading him to a chair, asked, hesita- 
 tingly: 
 
 "Pardon me; you have met with an accident?" 
 
 D'Artivan glanced at him furtively. " Oh, then, you 
 do not know about it?" 
 
 "About what?" inquired Paul, with a candid look of 
 curiosity that convinced the other of his sincerity. 
 
 "Oh, I had an affair a few days ago," he explained, 
 greatly pleased that here, at least, he was beforehand 
 with the gossipers. "Yes, and, unfortunately, as I was 
 about to settle my man with a cut on his sword-arm that 
 would have excused him from ever accepting another 
 challenge, my foot slipped on a cursed piece of orange 
 peel which I had just thrown away (you are aware of my 
 car , less habits), and I :ell forward while lunging and 
 received my enemy's point in m / cheek." 
 
 Paul had listened to this, to him, very plausible 
 explanation with open-eyed credulity.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 95 
 
 " How unfortunate! " he exclaimed, with frank sym- 
 pathy. " It may remain there for life." 
 
 "Enfer! yes, that is the worst of it," responded 
 D'Artivan, suddenly growing black at the thought. 
 
 "And who was your antagonist? " inquired Paul. 
 
 "Oh, a fellow who called himself Aubrey. He acted 
 very offensively toward me at a cafe you know the 
 place where I used to dine and I called him out. Of 
 course, there were some other persons present, and they 
 have taken the trouble to give a malicious and ridicu- 
 lous version of the accident ; but they are enemies of 
 mine, and I shall take no notice of their stories. As for 
 you, I am sure you will place no faith in them, and that 
 we are excellent friends as before." 
 
 " To be sure," returned Paul, who was not the one to 
 harbor a grudge under such circumstances. 
 
 Having thus restored himself with Paul Cambray, 
 D'Artivan, whom the story of the duel had almost 
 entirely ostracised, began to frequent the rooms of the 
 latter constantly, and to receive Paul in his own once or 
 t'vice a week . They went out a great deal together, not- 
 withstanding that Clarise did not at all appear to like 
 their now fraternal relation, and had almost quarreled 
 with her lover on account of it. D'Artivan had, how- 
 ever, completely won his sympathy by telling him 
 enough of the real facts concerning the unfortunate 
 duel to convince the susceptible youth that his friend 
 was the victim of persecution and misrepresentation. 
 The intimacy therefore, increased instead of cooled, in 
 spite of the strange remarks which Paul sometimes 
 heard of the affair at the cafe, until the two young men 
 were inseparable. 
 
 D'Artivan, at this time, was in the habit of visiting 
 a certain money-lender by the name of Ferdean, who 
 lived in an obscure street near the barrier of the Gobe-
 
 g6 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 lins, entirely alone. Little was seen or known of this 
 man in the neighborhood. He was supposed to be an 
 Arab; at all events, his extremely dark and oriental 
 features gave warrant to this supposition, and his age 
 was about that of D'Artivan, whom, in fact, he greatly 
 resembled, both in figure and features. Had Ferdean 
 been less dark the two men would have been singularly 
 alike in physical appearance. 
 
 One evening D'Artivan climbed the dingy stairs of 
 the ancient building, in the fourth story of which 
 Ferdean lived, and, rapping sharply at the rickety door, 
 was bidden by a voice of exceeding harshness to come 
 in. 
 
 D'Artivan unceremoniously did so, pushing the door 
 open violently with his foot. The room was large and 
 dingy, and contained but few articles of poor furniture, 
 which appeared to have served several generations. In 
 fact, the only articles of the kind in the squalid chamber 
 were a miserable cot, covered with faded and ragged 
 bedclothes, a small table, which leaned against the 
 blackened wall on its three legs, a black iron lamp, 
 already lighted, which stood on the ancient wooden 
 mantel, and, lastly, an old leathern-covered chair in the 
 middle of the room, on the present occasion containing 
 the dilapidated figure of Ferdean. 
 
 Ferdean was nodding over a pipe, with a stem sev- 
 eral feet in length, which allowed the bowl to rest on 
 the toe of his greasy slipper. 
 
 "At it again, eh?" exclaimed his visitor, sniffing the 
 air, which had a peculiarly pungent odor. 
 
 Ferdean raised his eyes, which were dull and vacant, 
 turned his swarthy face toward the door, and replied, 
 testily: 
 
 " What would you have ? You are sound in body 
 and nerves, and know nothing of my torments. I smoke
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 97 
 
 to ease them." Then, without taking any further 
 notice of his caller, he lapsed into that profound and 
 dreamy stupor which the veteran opium-smoker invites 
 with such terrible persistency until it ends in perpetual 
 chaos. 
 
 D'Artivan regarded the crouched figure scornfully 
 for a few seconds, and then, stooping over it, shouted 
 in its ear. 
 
 " I say, Ferdean, are you there? " 
 
 The dreamer stirred a little, and muttered, almost 
 inaudibly: 
 
 " Besides, it is the breath of the Gods." 
 
 "Breath of Lucifer," returned D'Artivan, with an 
 impatient sneer. " It will carry your own breath off 
 some of these times." 
 
 Ferdean offered no contradiction to this prophecy. 
 
 "Come, come," cried D'Artivan, after waiting a 
 moment or two longer; "rouse yourself, you old Shy- 
 lock, and attend to business, will you?" 
 
 No answer and no movement. 
 
 "Million devils! " shouted the Gascon; "he's in the 
 tomb/' 
 
 And, without the least ceremony, he plucked the pipe 
 out of Ferdean's hand and tossed it into the farthest 
 corner of the room. 
 
 Ferdean's half-closed eyes flew open instantly, and 
 out of their black depths two fiery gleams shot like 
 meteors. With incredible quickness he leaped from his 
 chair, and, with a howl of rage which sounded scarcely 
 human, he drew a short dagger from the folds of his 
 greasy garment and darted at the amazed and, in fact, 
 terrified culprit. 
 
 The ugly weapon would certainly have parted 
 1 )'Artivan's ribs had he not been rendered unusually 
 nimble by fright, which also added to hisstrength; since,
 
 98 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 in leaping aside to avoid the blow aimed at his body, he 
 landed against the opposite wall. Seizing the table, 
 near which he had fortunately landed, he thrust it in 
 front of the enraged Ferdean, who had that moment 
 again darted toward him with the upraised knife. ' 
 
 Ferdean struck the table and overturned it, and 
 before he could leap over it D'Artivan had sprung to 
 the side of the cot and dragged from it the outer 
 coverlet. An idea, the inspiration of fear, had darted 
 into his mind. 
 
 As Ferdean rushed once more upon him, blinded by 
 rage, and holding the murderous dagger with the point 
 toward his own breast, ready for a down stroke, D'Arti- 
 van skilfully threw the quilt full at his pursuer's front, 
 enveloping him completely in its ragged folds. Fer- 
 dea'n's foot caught in one of its many holes; he stumbled 
 and fell, uttered a single fierce shriek and laid perfectly 
 still. 
 
 If the terror of D'Artivan was a moment before 
 extreme, his horror now was indescribable. It froze his 
 blood and held him rigid and dumb where he stood. 
 His staring eyes glued themselves to the fearful object 
 lying at his feet under its ragged pall; and, while he 
 looked, a stream of blood began slowly to creep out 
 from under the quilt, widening upon the bare floor as it 
 came toward him. 
 
 How long he remained in that frozen attitude he 
 knew not; but at length his senses began to return. 
 He moved away from the red current that now had 
 almost reached his feet; closed the half-open door with 
 an unconscious hand; and then, trembling and white, 
 chilled and stupefied, he sank down into the dead man's 
 chair.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A PERLOUS SITUATION. 
 
 When D'Artivan entered Ferdean's room it was only 
 a little after sunset. When he dropped, trembling into 
 the dead man's chair it was almost dark. Nothing in 
 the dismal place was now visible except the ghostly out- 
 lines revealed by the feeble and funereal light of the 
 iron lamp on the mantel shelf. 
 
 As soon as he could summon courage to move, he 
 rose and walked on tip-toe, as if the noise of his foot- 
 steps might, perchance, awake the ghastly sleeper 
 yonder, and took the lamp in his shaking hand, stopping 
 a moment to listen to the solitary footfalls of a passing 
 wayfarer in the street outside. Then, holding the light 
 above his head, he slowly crept toward the stark figure 
 on the floor, and stood looking, in quaking dread, upon 
 its muffled shape. The blood had ceased to flow from 
 underneath the pall, and now remained in a clotted pool 
 at one side of the body. 
 
 For several minutes D'Artivan lingered at his fearful 
 inspection, as if fascinated by the weird spectacle. At 
 length he stooped down, uncovered the body, and 
 turned it over upon its back. As he did so he uttered a 
 cry of horror and staggered backward. Ferdean's face 
 was completely dyed with his own blood; the stiffened 
 arms and hands were blood-soaked; a red clot had 
 matted the long hair above the low forehead, giving it 
 an aspect hideous beyond description. The ivory 
 handle of the dagger protruded from the bloody br 
 
 99
 
 IOO HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 and the fierce eyes were open, and stared in a horrible 
 manner at the living likeness that cowered there in the 
 corner of the miserable den. 
 
 Overcome, for the second time, by this ghastly sight, 
 D'Artivan once more sank into the chair from which the 
 Arab had so short a while ago leaped to his death. He 
 shrank within himself as he touched the warm leather, 
 redolent as it was from the fumes of the dead man's 
 pipe; but there was no other seat in the chamber, and 
 his limbs refused to uphold him. 
 
 Now he endeavored to reflect. He had realized, 
 trom the moment Ferdean's awful scream smote upon 
 his heart as well as upon his ear that his own situa- 
 tion was a terrible one. He had entered while it was 
 yet daylight, and he dare not leave until he had consid- 
 ered well. Otherwise, he would have fled at the instant 
 he heard that death-shriek. But something must be 
 done. At any moment some one might enter and find 
 him there. And if he was thus discovered while that 
 horrid object lay yonderwith its bloody mask upturned, 
 the dagger still sheathed in its cloven heart, its staring 
 eyes following him like accusers what account could 
 he give of the awful tragedy that would for one instant 
 be believed? None; a gens d'armes' escort, a dungeon, 
 the pretense of a trial and the iron hook of a street 
 lantern post. That would be his fate if he was caught 
 by the concierge, or by any red-capped canaille, attired 
 in his velvet breeches, his fine long-coat and silken hose. 
 The name "aristocrat"' was no longer flung as an epi- 
 thet at the gentry or nobility alone. It was hurled at 
 the ruffled vulgarian as often as at the silken courtier; 
 and when and where it struck death followed. 
 
 D'Artivan's reflections decided him. He went to the 
 door and locked it. His composure had gradually 
 returned while he was evolving his idea of escape.
 
 HELENE SAIXTE MAUR. IOI 
 
 " Undoubtedly," soliloquized he, aloud, in his earnest- 
 ness, " I was seen by some person to enter, as I came 
 here before it was dusk. Very well, then, I must not be 
 seen going out. Ah, I have it ! I will exchange my 
 dress for that of Ferdean, who is the same size as my- 
 self, and resembled me so strangely. He will not need 
 his clothes any longer; and besides, pardieu, my own will 
 give him a decent burial suit. Then, I will pull the bed 
 over him; that will conceal everything. Good, I am 
 coming around to myself again." 
 
 These shrewd reflections, thus repeated to himself 
 aloud, had an exhilarating effect; they seemed to inspire 
 him with more courage and more confidence in his 
 resources. He looked boldly, and without shaking his 
 chin as he had been doing a little while before at the 
 corpse on the floor and continued to rehearse the 
 revolting part he was about to enact: 
 
 "What next ? Yes, I will then open the door, and I 
 will seat myself with my back to it, with Ferdean's pipe 
 in my mouth, though I shall not dare to smoke that 
 infernal stuff with the heathenish name. Faugh! it 
 made a fool of Ferdean, it would make a caged rat of 
 me. Very well, the concierge will come prowling about 
 when it has grown late, and he will see a light still burn- 
 ing in here and Ferdean that is myself sitting here 
 and appearing to smoke, and he will say to himself: ' It 
 is all right; this Ferdean is a devil of a smoker!' and off 
 he will go to his bed. Good." 
 
 D'Artivan spread his legs apart and placed his hands 
 in the pockets of his coat. These pockets were behind, 
 and were placed close together, so that the position he 
 took threw his chest out bravely. 
 
 " So," he went on, in easy conversation with himself, 
 with one eye closed while the other rested unblinkingly 
 upon the blood-red face at the other end of the room;
 
 102 ELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "after awhile I will go out, lock the door and put the 
 key in my pocket that is, in Ferdean's pocket, where it 
 belongs, of course, leaving the lamp burning to keep 
 him company. Excellent; I have forgotten nothing, 
 Ferdean, my friend! Then, any one whom I may meet 
 on the stairs, or in this devilishly forlorn street, will 
 mistake me for Ferdean. As for the blood, it will not 
 be observed in the dark, especially as Ferdean's clothes 
 are brown; and, besides, I will be in the shadows nearly 
 the whole way to my lodgings. Come, this is excel- 
 lent!" 
 
 By the time that D'Artivan had arrived at the end of 
 his soliloquy his spirits had risen considerably, and 
 without losing any more time he set to work to carry 
 out his ghoulish purpose. 
 
 In spite of his bravado, however, he was fearfully 
 pale while engaged in stripping the body of Ferdean; 
 and in withdrawing the dagger from the body, which 
 was rendered necessary in order to remove the coat, he 
 was subjected to the most frightful of all ordeals. As 
 he drew the knife out of the wound a fresh stream of 
 blood spouted forth, warm and red, and saturated his 
 hands as completely as though they had been dipped in 
 a basin of it. 
 
 It was several minutes before D'Artivan recovered 
 from this shock, the worst, indeed, that he had yet 
 experienced; and his hands, from which he shudderingly 
 wiped the crimson fluid, shook as if palsied when he 
 resumed his lugubrious task. 
 
 At last, with great difficulty, Ferdean was invested 
 with D'Artivan's clothing to the last article. Several 
 letters from certain nymps, addressed to him as 
 " Monsiur Jean Jourgot," were left in the pockets to 
 mislead the police. Everything else he transferred to 
 the gaping and greasy pockets of the brown " raglan "
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 103 
 
 which he had stripped from the body. Then he pro- 
 ceeded to clothe himself in the garments of the dead 
 man, which fitted his person exactly, and elicited from 
 him a feeble joke or two about the advantage that might 
 have accrued had they been co-partners. But there was 
 one thing, of the utmost importance, too, which he had 
 almost forgotten; the fresh color of his skin, and that 
 cursed scar, which the pallor of his face just now made 
 more glaringly vivid than ever, must be changed to a 
 tan. Fortunately, he remembered this; but he had no 
 pigment at hand. 
 
 Removing a small pocket-glass from a pouch in Fer- 
 dean's waistcoat, he stared into it for some moments, 
 perplexed and anxious. 
 
 " Well, come," he mumbled to himself ;" how can I 
 stain my face and hands so as to make them resemble 
 the money changer's? Peste, his skin was like a mum- 
 my's in color, all copper and black variegation. What 
 the devil shall I do with mine ? " 
 
 The dilemma was a serious one; but, as if the demon 
 whose aid he had just invoked had come to his assist- 
 ance on the instant, he started suddenly, made a violent 
 gesture of dissent and turned still whiter as he 
 exclaimed, hoarsely: 
 
 " My God! it is too horrible." 
 
 But, recovering himself after an effort: 
 
 "Yes," he muttered, desperately, "it must be done. 
 Mon Dieu! yes. And, after all, he is dead; and, as for 
 myself, morbleu, I shall be soon like him if I hesitate or 
 stay in this den much longer. 
 
 Then, what this man did was this: He took from 
 the pocket of his coat a small knife, with which he cut 
 off a thin piece cf wood from the side of the bedstead. 
 Lighting this by the flame of the lamp, he allowed it to 
 burn until it was charred at the end. Then, dipping
 
 104 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 this charred end in the clotted blood on the floor, he 
 deliberately smeared the horrible compound over his 
 face; after which he carefully and lightly wiped off the 
 surface with his handkerchief. After two or three times 
 resorting to his pocket-mirror, he became satisfied that 
 he had imitated Ferdean's mahogany complexion sur- 
 prisingly well; thereupon, he began to treat his hands 
 and wrists, his ears, throat and neck to the same sicken- 
 ing process. This finished, he once more surveyed him- 
 self, and exclaimed, with horrid complacency: 
 
 " Saints and devils! If I saw myself in the pool of 
 Narcissus, I should believe it was Ferdean himself." 
 
 This astonishing transformation now being complete, 
 D'Artivan next lifted the cot, and pushed it forward 
 until it rested directly over the corpse of Ferdean, hid- 
 ing also the pool of blood on the floor. As he turned 
 away, he saw a small ebony box, like an antique coffer, 
 and bound with brass, laying on the spot from which he 
 had just removed the bed. D'Artivan recognized this 
 box instantly; and with a cry expressive of greed and 
 exultation, he sprang toward it, seized it in his hands, 
 and carried it to the lamp for closer inspection. Plung- 
 ing his hand into one of Ferdean's pockets, with nervous 
 haste he drew therefrom a bunch of keys, with one of 
 which he unlocked the casket. 
 
 D'Artivan had seen this box several times before. He 
 had borrowed money from Ferdean a number of times, 
 and the money had always come from this repository. 
 And now it was his. No more drawing of notes, no more 
 security on his patrimony, no more usury. He was 
 about to get back all the interest he had paid the Arab, 
 and all the Arab's capital with it. It was excellent, it 
 was superb ! Perhaps he should find sundry notes and 
 mortgages he had given the money-changer, in this won- 
 derful casket, under the carved lid which he was going
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 105 
 
 to open immediately. He held it before him, balancing 
 it in his eager fingers, and murmured : 
 
 " Pardieu, it is delightfully heavy ! " 
 
 In waiting now to examine its contents, part at least 
 of which he already knew or guessed at, the Gascon com- 
 mitted a serious imprudence ; and he was indulging his 
 curiosity at a price he little suspected. Of course he 
 was aware that he was in imminent danger of being dis- 
 covered, as he had already reminded himself a dozen 
 times within the hour ; but his cupidity was almost as 
 great as his fear ; and he could not resist the temptation 
 to peep at the treasures he had stolen without compunc- 
 tion from the dead. 
 
 The fact is that his cry of horror, uttered when he 
 turned Ferdean over on his back, had penetrated 
 through the chinks and crannies of the walls and door, 
 and reached the sharp eats of the old concierge ; and 
 this personage, an adept at espionage, as these gentry 
 invariably are, now stood outside of Ferdean's door, 
 with his eye glued to the large keyhole. He saw 
 D'Artivan's back, saw him rummaging the treasure-box 
 which he had often seen, and formed some conclusions 
 that will shortly appear, as he watched the ghoul's oper- 
 ations with a gloating look. 
 
 The box contained several bags filled with louis 
 d'ors ; but, much to D'Artivan's annoyance, neither his 
 own notes nor the notes of anyone else were there. 
 
 "Never mind, he muttered, resignedly; "perhaps 
 they will never turn up." 
 
 Without expecting to find anything further, he 
 absently lifted the bags out, one by one, and as he 
 removed the last, his hand touched a small morocco box 
 which nearly covered the bottom of the casket. This 
 he seized with renewed curiosity and proceeded to open. 
 To his amazement and delight, it was tightly packed
 
 I06 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 with precious stones, many of them of large dimensions, 
 and without settings. The most of these gems were 
 diamonds, and of the first quality. To D'Artivan's eyes 
 here was a veritable mine, a fortune, and (thus he rea- 
 soned) it was properly his own, since Ferdean had left 
 no visible heirs and no administrator or executor. For 
 several minutes he feasted his eyes upon the glittering 
 jewels, dazzled and speechless. Then he gave way to a 
 paroxysm almost as fierce as that in which he indulged 
 on the night of the duel ; but this was a paroxysm of 
 
 jy- 
 
 A stealthy noise outside in the corridor now finally 
 restored him to his senses ; and hastily replacing the 
 contents of the box, he closed and locked it, and placed 
 it under the bed, at the side of its dead owner. Then, 
 after putting the overturned table upon its legs, he cau- 
 tiously opened the door and, seating himself in the 
 leathern-covered chair, with the unlucky pipe in his 
 mouth, and his back toward the door, he assumed the 
 peculiar, drooping position in which he had so often 
 found Ferdean, and waited for developments. 
 
 Scarcely five minutes had elapsed, when a slow and 
 shuffling step approached the entrance and halted there. 
 D'Artivan's heart leaped into his throat, but he remained 
 motionless. Then a gruff voice accosted him: 
 
 "Good night, Monsieur Ferdean; have you taken 
 your little walk yet ?" 
 
 "Aha!" thought the false Ferdean; "this is fortu- 
 nate, upon my word. Ferdean was to take a little walk 
 to-night, it seems; perhaps it is his habit to do so. Well, 
 pardieu! I will take it for him, since he is de trop." 
 
 Then, subduing his voice to the tones and accents 
 of the real Ferdean, he replied: 
 
 "No; but I am going out directly." 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" grumbled the concierge; "you always
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 107 
 
 require me to sit outside of your door until you return; 
 and you do not go out so late before." 
 
 This did not sound so well to D'Artivan; on the con- 
 trary, it somewhat disconcerted him. But he answered, 
 in the same voice as before: 
 
 "Go to bed." 
 
 " How?" cried the concierge, raising his harsh voice, 
 as if indignant at this unceremonious dismissal. "Do 
 you not wish, then, to pay the ten sous to-night ? " 
 
 D'Artivan was becoming alarmed. Every time he 
 spoke he was in danger of being discovered to this 
 wretch of a concierge. Besides, a visitor, even at this 
 hour, was at least possible. 
 
 "Curse the rascal," he muttered, between his teeth. 
 But he said aloud: 
 
 " Go, go, you shall have your ten sous all the same, 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Oh, if that is the same thing to you, certainly. 
 Good-night, Monsieur Ferdean." And after peering 
 curiously into the chamber at the dismantled bed, the 
 concierge shambled away. 
 
 D'Artivan waited until all was quiet; then, stealthily 
 rising, he crept to the bed, and without looking under 
 it groped his hand for the box. As he drew it from its 
 hiding place, something soft moved quicklyover his hand. 
 
 With a shriek of terror, but still clutching the casket, 
 he sprang back from the cot, rushed to the door, and, 
 more than half mad with a nameless fear, succeeded in 
 locKing it, thrust the key in his pocket, and fled down 
 the rickety stairway. 
 
 As he emerged into the street, which was now as 
 dark as the mouth of a cavern, his arm was suddenly 
 clutched by a bony hand, and a rasping voice whis- 
 pered in his ear: 
 
 " My ten sous, Monsieur Ferdean and ten louis for 
 waiting! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CONCIERGE'S STORY. 
 
 In those terrible years of 1789-93 the self-constituted 
 authorities who had usurped the legitimate functions of 
 the monarchy, " in order to restore peace to France and 
 prosperity to the nation," were not only powerless to 
 prevent, but were willing to encourage, the crimes com- 
 mitted by "the people," who were their real supporters ; 
 and by permitting them to prey upon each other they 
 found excuses for the terrible crimes and excesses of 
 which they themselves were constantly guilty. 
 
 The supposed murder of an unknown man, evidently 
 an aristocrat from his attire, by the money-changer 
 (who was doubtless attacked for the purpose of robbery) 
 did not much disturb the neigborhood, or elicit much 
 attention from the public. On the night of the catas- 
 trophe, a gendarme, passing by the tenement where 
 Ferdean lodged, had found the concierge lying in the 
 open doorway, insensible from a severe blow he had re- 
 ceived in the temple from some hard instrument, and 
 was carried up to his attic. The police were notified 
 some hours later, and an officer was sent to take the con- 
 cierge's statement. He told the following story : 
 
 He had gone down to the street entrance at ten 
 o'clock, previous to closing the house for the night, and 
 while standing there Ferdean, the foreigner who rented 
 the rear room in the fourth story, came running down 
 the stairs at an astonishing rate of speed, with something 
 heavy in his hand. Thinking that the house was on fire, 
 or that something dreadful was the matter with the 
 
 108
 
 HELENE SA1NTE MAUR. IOQ 
 
 /odger, he, the concierge, had called to him to stop and 
 explain, and had caught hold of his coat to detain him 
 for the moment, when the "miserable" had whirled 
 around, without a word to him, and struck him a terrible 
 blow on the head with the thing he carried in his hand, 
 and he knew no more until he found himself in his own 
 
 bed." 
 
 The concierge declared that he had not yet visited 
 the room of Ferdean, being yet too weak to do so ; and 
 now volunteered to go with the officer and make an 
 examination of the premises. 
 
 The dead body was found under the bed, but the 
 face was horribly mutilated by an enormous rat which 
 fled to its hole when the horror-stricken pair pulled the 
 cot away. The rat had no doubt grown fat upon Fer- 
 dean's crumbs, but this had not prevented it from also 
 preying upon Ferdean's body ; and, thanks toils ravages 
 and the blood-dye which clung there, the face of the 
 corpse was absolutely unrecognizable. The concierge, 
 however, insisted that it was not the money-changer, 
 but a young man who had called to see him before dark, 
 on business that had often brought him there before. 
 
 Nothing more was elicited from the concierge of any 
 special importance; and nothing whatever was discov- 
 ered in the way of valuables. Evidently, Ferdean had 
 decamped, taking his portables with him. Upon search- 
 ing the pockets of the dead man, several letters from 
 women were found, addressed to a fictitious name which 
 D'Artivan had given them; and these, together with the 
 strange clothing on the body, the presence of the bloody 
 dagger known by the concierge to have belonged to 
 Ferdean as well as the other significant circumstances 
 which we have already recounted, were considered suf- 
 ficiently corroborative to justify the officer's report at 
 the Prefecture to the effect that Ferdean had committed
 
 110 HELKNE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 the murder, etc., and had fled from the scene of the 
 crime with all his valuables, after knocking down the 
 concierge, who had attempted to question him about 
 his extraordinary haste. 
 
 Formalities were hastily gone through with at the 
 morgue, and at the Prefect's, and the ''unknown " was 
 buried out of sight and forgotten except by two or 
 three persons, from whom we shall hear again. 
 
 Meanwhile, D'Artivan, who had recognized the cun- 
 ning concierge at the door, and in his desperation had 
 launched the corner of the box at the latter'shead, with 
 excellent effect, -as we have seen, reached his lodgings 
 without attracting any notice from wayfarers or police- 
 men. There he remained for a few days, and then 
 transferred his domicil to the northwestern portion of 
 the city. He had found a little house in the Faubourg 
 St. Honore, the owner of which had fled to England to 
 save his head from Robespierre's vengeance. Now, this 
 unfortunate refugee was no other than the Marquis of 
 
 B , whose presence among the living we shall presently 
 
 explain. He had left this house, the situation of which 
 was extremely secluded, in the charge of a faithful ser- 
 vant, his old valet, Barbaroux, who lived in it entirely 
 alone or had been doing so until about a fortnight be- 
 fore the incident of Ferdean's death; an incident, by the 
 way, by no means unimportant to the truthful history 
 of the lives we are following in these eventful chapters. 
 
 The fact is, the Marquis had secretly returned to 
 Paris. In a safe disguise, he had gone to this house 
 some weeks before the events we are about to describe, 
 was received by Barbaroux with joyful effusiveness, and 
 had then informed his' servant that he should again be 
 absent for perhaps a week, and would then return to 
 remain in concealment there until the insurgents were
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. Ill 
 
 reduced to subjection, and peace restored to Paris. 
 Then he had disappeared. 
 
 The Marquis went, at the risk of his head, on a mis- 
 sion of revenge. His destination was Caen, in the 
 province of Normandy, where the supporters of the 
 king were numerous. From there he dispatched a 
 message to Sir Philip Belmore, informing him that he 
 desired another meeting with him, and that, since he 
 could not come to Paris without falling into the hands 
 of Robespierre and his friends, he hoped his mortal 
 enemy, Sir Philip, would accord him a meeting either 
 in Normandy or Maine, etc. 
 
 The reply which the vindictive nobleman received 
 from the baronet astounded no less than it enraged him. 
 It ran thus : 
 
 "You demand what you are pleased to call 'satisfac- 
 tion' from me, for the second time. As you had no 
 excuse for calling me out in the first place, so you have 
 none now for calling me to account for defeating you. 
 I had your life a score of times on the point of my 
 sword, and refused to take it. I determined, rather than 
 have your blood on my hands, to effectually prevent 
 you from continuing your persecution of a lady whom 
 you had threatened because she refused your unwel- 
 come addresses. I will now inform you that if you 
 insist on my meeting you again, I will go to Elbeuf for 
 that purpose; but I also warn you that, while I shall not 
 kill you, I shall do worse. I cut off your nose with your 
 own sword in the duel at Boulogne; in the duel at 
 Elbeuf I shall cut off your ears." 
 
 Upon receiving this fearful epistle, the Marquis was 
 delirious with rage. But he did not " insist " after that; 
 on the contrary, he returned to the charming little house 
 in the aristocratic Faubourg, and sat down to plot
 
 112 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 against his enemy from behind a position which ensured 
 the safety of his ears. 
 
 Since his duel with Sir Philip Belmore, the Marquis 
 had become a monomaniac. Night and day he brooded 
 over his hideous disfigurement. Unskillful treatment 
 had allowed suppuration to follow, then there was a 
 farther ravage caries of the bone ; and, whether from ac- 
 cidental inoculation or neglect, the disease in his nose 
 was fpund or believed to be incurable, and at all events 
 he found it impossible to wear an artificial nose. He 
 was therefore compelled to wear merely an ugly green 
 flap over that portion of his face, except when for a few 
 minutes in his flying passages from one refuge to an- 
 other he had to endure the attachment, and when the 
 flap was removed his appearance was frightful. 
 
 The sight of his own features, therefore, was to the 
 Marquis a constant reminder that he owed his mutila- 
 tion to the Englishman who was admitted familiarly into 
 the presence of the woman whom he believed he loved 
 to madness, but who, after his quarrel with the baronet 
 and his terrible humiliation almost under the eyes of her 
 to whom he had thought to pose as a Hector, had 
 spurned and scorned him. Hopeless jealousy, hatred of 
 his rival, and the burning desire to revenge himself not 
 only upon Sir Philip and Helene, but upon all those who 
 were associated with these two at the time of his unfor- 
 tunate encounter, had brought him back to Paris at the 
 very time that hundreds of the noblesse were turning 
 their faces from it. These vindictive feelings had grown 
 in strength and fierceness, until they had induced a spe- 
 cies of insanity. In short, the Marquis of B had 
 
 come to Paris with the inexorable purpose of extermi- 
 nating every one of the party who had caused, assisted 
 in, or witnessed his punishment and disgrace at Bou- 
 logne.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 113 
 
 Soon after he had thus settled himself in Paris, he 
 set about procuring an instrument of his systematic ven- 
 geance. He wanted a tool, and a capable one; and by 
 capability he meant cunning, intelligence, cupidity, 
 indifference to misfortune, pain and death to others. 
 
 Accident brought exactly such a person to his very 
 door, as we shall presently see. 
 
 One evening before dusk, as Barbaroux stood inside 
 the open wicket in front of the villa, mildly contemplat- 
 ing the few passers-by, his attention was drawn to a 
 light chaise which had stopped immediately in front of 
 the garden entrance. 
 
 The occupant of the chaise, a richly but rather show- 
 ily dressed man of somewhat sinister appearance, pos- 
 sibly owing to a vivid and ugly scar across his left 
 cheek, was leaning out of the vehicle and attentively 
 examining the premises. 
 
 This unusual inspection alarmed Barbaroux, who 
 was naturally at alTtimes alert, on his master's account, 
 for whatever might occur at all suspicious in its appear- 
 ance in the vicinity. He therefore began to scrutinize 
 the stranger furtively, asking himself if it were possible 
 this man could be a spy? But no, that was not proba- 
 ble; he was dressed like a cavalier, and the " republicans " 
 went either shabbily dressed or attired with extreme 
 simplicity. Yes, assuredly, this was a man of fashion 
 nothing more harmful than that. And yet 
 
 Barbaroux's reflections, which were shrewd in the 
 main, were interrupted at this juncture. 
 
 "My good fellow," said the man in the chaise, in a 
 patronizing tone, " do you live here ? " 
 
 Barbaroux, while secretly incensed by the manner of 
 the stranger, was at the same time re-assured by it. 
 Detectives, gens d'armes, and spies, did not assume such 
 supercilious airs. He answered, somewhat reservedly:
 
 114 HELEXE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " Certainly, Monsieur ; otherwise I should not be 
 making myself so much at home." 
 
 " Oh," ejaculated the man, with an amused laugh. 
 Then, a little less flippantly : 
 
 " Well, then, I presume you are taking care of the 
 
 place for the Marquis of B , since his hem health 
 
 requires him to be absent fora an indefinite time, ch ? " 
 
 This speech sounded suspicious to Barbaroux, and 
 his uneasiness began to return, lie made no reply, but 
 fixed his gray eyes on the stranger with a searching 
 expression which the latter mistook, for he exclaimed, 
 with a repetition of his unpleasant laugh : 
 
 "Oh, you need not say to yourself 'this is an 
 inquisitive person, who meddles with other people's bus- 
 iness ! ' Pardieu, my friend, I am not that kind. *I have 
 business of my own, do you see? And as for those 
 damned sans culottes, those rapscallions who are razing 
 Paris well, do you understand, a gentleman has no 
 longer an income, thanks to them, since the butchers 
 have gone to killing in the provinces. Very well, then, 
 to waste no more time about it, my business here is to 
 ascertain if this house which is very pretty, but which 
 the Marquis found too lonesome, perhaps, although, 
 presto, it exactly suits my taste in that respect can be 
 leased to a gentleman of means and refinement for, say 
 one year." 
 
 Barbaroux, much relieved by this explanation, 
 gravely shook his head. 
 
 " I have had no instructions to let the place, Mon- 
 sieur," he said, politely. 
 
 The stranger looked disappointed. After reflecting 
 a moment, he asked: 
 
 "Well, at all events., can you not write to the Mar- 
 quis, and ask his permission to do so? It is I who want 
 the lease. I am pleased with tkfi locality, and I think
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 11$ 
 
 the house is just what I require, as I am unmarried. 
 And besides, if you succeed in inducing the Marquis to 
 let it to me, I will retain you in it, since I like your 
 looks, and would need no recommendations from you." 
 
 "Certainly, Monsieur, I can do that, I suppose," 
 assented the valet. 
 
 "Ah, thank you. Get me a pen and paper, then, 
 and I will write my name and address on it, so that you 
 may notify me when you hear from your master." 
 
 Every word of this conversation was overheard by 
 the Marquis himself, from his "little place of observa- 
 tion " behind the jalousie of the parlor window, the sash 
 of which he had softly raised for the purpose. The 
 moment that Barbaroux entered the house, therefore, to 
 get the writing materials, his master beckoned him into 
 a rear apartment, and closing the door: 
 
 "Listen. That is the very man I want," said he, in 
 an unusually animated tone. " Get his name and resi- 
 dence in full, and tell him that you will do your best to 
 secure the place for him on his own conditions that he 
 retains you in his service. Say, indifferently, that the 
 terms will no doubt be very moderate, since the Mar- 
 quis does not wish to sell the property, but simply to 
 keep it occupied during his absence from Paris. Tell 
 him, also, that as soon as you get a reply from London, 
 which will be no longer than four days hence, you will 
 bring my written answer to him." 
 
 Barbaroux, who was a servant to the old regime, was 
 too well trained to exhibit any of the surprise he felt 
 upon receiving this singular order ; but went out of the 
 room to execute it with the same impassive countenance 
 with which he had entered. When he returned a fc\v 
 minutes afterward, he found the Marquis walking the 
 floor rapidly, and smiling in a most peculiar manner. 
 
 "Aha, my good Barbaroux," said he, in so cheerlul
 
 Il6 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 a tone that the old servant stared at him this time with 
 open and pleased surprise ; his master never since 
 his misfortune having spoken in any other than a 
 morose voice ; " this shall be called a white day. But 
 you do not understand, I see. Well, I will tell you 
 this much now ; I saw this ah (reading the address 
 eagerly) D'Artivan, and heard all he said, while 
 you conversed with him. I understand the fellow's 
 physiognomy, and I am sure he is a scoundrel. 
 Well, I want a scoundrel to live here, here where I 
 can see him whenever I choose, without exposing myself. 
 In four days, at this hour, you will carry to him my 
 answer, which will be dated from London, of course, 
 and addressed to you, authorizing you to let the place 
 to him, provided he retains you here in his service in 
 the same capacity in which you served me. My letter, 
 which I will give to you to read to-morrow, will tell you 
 to make such arrangements with the gentleman as you 
 may deem proper, in the leasing of the house. And you 
 will then tell him that he can take possession at once." 
 
 One week later, the pretty villa in the Faubourg St. 
 Honore had a new master; so did Barbaroux. The 
 
 Marquis of B had secured a tenant who was ere 
 
 long to be something more to him, as we are speedily to 
 learn. . 
 
 On the very next day this eccentric landlord began 
 to look up the antecedents of Monsieur Victor D.'Arti- 
 van. And as he possessed both money and brains, 
 which together constitute the Archimedean lever of 
 which liberal-minded people are so skeptical, the Mar- 
 quis was not long in making some astonishing discov- 
 eries concerning that debonaire ^gentleman which 
 eventually placed the latter absolutely in his power, and 
 afforded ample proof of the nobleman's sagacity.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1)' ARTIVAN AT THE VILLA. 
 
 Crime is often the dupe of its own arts. At all 
 events this was the case with D'Artivan. He had been 
 cunning, and he now endeavored to be cautious. We 
 shall see how it availed him. 
 
 When he appeared at the door of the villa with his 
 luggage, he left on the seat rf the carriage a small sil- 
 ver-handled casket, covered with blue velvet. He had* 
 already entered-the door, and the carriage was driving 
 off, when he suddenly recollected. 
 
 " My God! " he exclaimed, in accents of terror, as he 
 turned to rush out of the house, " my box, my box! 
 Stop the chaise, stop it, I say! Devils of Tophet, ho 
 ho, there. Curse you, stop!" 
 
 Ilatless, excited to the utmost pitch, panting and 
 pale, the terrified adventurer, forgetting decorum, and 
 dropping his grand airs as he would have flung a mask 
 aside, rushed, vociferating and gesticulating down the 
 staid avenue, in angry and desperate pursuit of the 
 vehicle which was bearing his stolen treasure, and, per- 
 haps, the evidence of his crime, straight toward the Pont 
 Neuf. 
 
 It was not until he had raced nearly to the Seine that 
 he overtook the driver, who was much astonished to 
 hear his pompous fare yelling hoarsely behind him, and 
 to see him transformed from a fine gentleman into the 
 'lance of a drunken roysterer. D'Artivan lost no 
 time in scrambling into the chaise, and was driven back 
 
 117
 
 Il8 HELENE SAINTE MAUR'. 
 
 to the villa hugging his precious casket with nervous 
 tenacity. 
 
 Barbaroux, who had followed him as far as the pave- 
 ment when he took flight, had' remained there as if 
 dumbfounded, which in truth he was; and had nearly 
 convinced himself that the new tenant had suddenly 
 gone mad, when the chaise again whirled up to the gate 
 and deposited the towsled fare for the second time on 
 the pavement. 
 
 It was Ferdean's box in disguise which the Gascon 
 had in his hands. Thinking it a convenient receptacle 
 for the jewels (which he could only dispose of, with any 
 degree of prudence, in small lots and at intervals), he 
 'had decided to preserve it, especially as it was an 
 antique. But, in order that if seen in his possession by 
 any one who might recognize it as Ferdean's, he had 
 bought some velvet cloth and an adjustable silver 
 handle, and with these had completely changed its out- 
 side appearance. The inside he had not altered; and 
 thus, while drawing attention to it by its showy cover- 
 ing, he neglected, at the same time, to remove or cover 
 up the tell-tale inscription on the ebony inside. This 
 inscription was in Arabic, a language which D'Artivan 
 did not understand; and, as he felt no curiosity about 
 it, he gave it no thought whatever. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, any honest soothsayer 
 would have recommended Monsieur D'Artivan, after 
 reading his horoscope, to neglect the study of any other 
 language rather than Arabic. But then Monsieur would 
 not have believed it. 
 
 As he entered the house this time, Barbaroux, who 
 had quietly preceded him into the vestibule, politely took 
 the. box out of his hand, intending to carry it up to his 
 chamber for him. But D'Artivan hastily plucked it out 
 of the-valet's fingers, turning somewhat red in the face
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 1 19 
 
 as he did so, and hurried to his room, without uttering 
 a word. 
 
 That night Barbaroux, while assisting the Marquis 
 to undress, told him of the affair of the casket. 
 
 The Marquis was interested, and asked a number of 
 questions. He was an astute person; he was fond of 
 studying character, and prided himself on his accurate 
 judgment of physiognomy. He had studied the Gas- 
 con's face from his retreat behind the Venetian blind in 
 the parlor, and had said to Barbaroux : " The fellow is 
 a scoundrel." Therefore, he was predisposed to look 
 with suspicion on his tenant's peculiar conduct ; and his 
 conclusion now was that the casket had a history, or at 
 least contained a secret. In both these surmises the 
 Marquis was right. 
 
 At the end of his reflections, he said to the valet 
 
 "When Monsieur goes out to-morrow morning for his 
 breakfast, we will have a look at that casket of which he 
 is so careful." 
 
 Accordingly, when D'Artivan started out of the 
 house in search of a cafe, Barbaroux followed him with 
 his eyes as far as the corner of the boulevard, and saw 
 him turn toward the quay of the Tuilleries ; then he 
 hastened into his master's chamber to inform him that 
 the way was clear for their little visit of inspection. 
 
 D'Artivan had left his bed-room in disorder, and 
 numerous garments were carelessly tossed here and 
 there on various pieces of furniture. But after a careful 
 search of the room they had not found the box. They 
 sat down to consider. 
 
 " It must be in that chest," observed Barbaroux, 
 pointing to one D'Artivan had brought, and which had 
 been deposited in one corner of the bed-room. 
 
 But when he attempted to raise the lid, he discovered 
 it was locked.
 
 120 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " Never mind;" he remarked, " I can open anything 
 that any locksmith can. I was an apprentice to that 
 great master who taught the King himself to make cab- 
 inet locks and open them without keys." And with this 
 excellent recommendation of himself, he ran out of the 
 room, returning in a few minutes with a nail and some 
 pieces of wire. Getting down on his knees before the 
 chest with the air of an expert workman, he inserted his 
 wire, felt the tumbrils, poked about with the nail and 
 the wire, and presently raised the lid of the chest. The 
 box was there, snugly cushioned on the top of a vari- 
 colored dressing-gown. 
 
 Fortunately, thanks to the unheard-of carelessness 
 of its possessor, it was not locked ; otherwise the valet's 
 skill would have been subjected to a very severe and 
 probably a futile test, since the lock was of oriental and 
 complicated workmanship. 
 
 The Marquis examined the jewels, as they lay spark- 
 ling in their morocco case, with some curiosity ; but his 
 interest was centered in the casket itself ; and he at once 
 directed Barbaroux to remove everything from it. Then 
 the inscription caught his eye. 
 
 " Aha, I thought so ! " he exclaimed, triumphantly; 
 " we are about to arrive. Fetch me a pen and a tablet." 
 
 The Marquis knew no more of Arabic than did 
 D'Artivan, but he was in this case more inquisitive. So, 
 when the tablet was brought he carefully copied the 
 text just as it appeared. Having done this, Barbaroux 
 replaced everything as it was before, and, closing the lid 
 of the chest, the two worthies left the apartment and 
 proceeded to that of the Marquis. 
 
 After closing the door, the latter said: 
 
 " You will take this copy to the libraire Bossuet, and 
 ask him to decipher it and give you the translation in
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 121 
 
 writing. Make haste, so as to return before Monsieur 
 what's his name." 
 
 While Barbaroux was off attending to his order, 
 D'Artivan returned from the cafe and went to his bed- 
 room. In a few minutes the Marquis, who was in his 
 own chamber, heard a great outcry, then a door violently 
 opened, and D'Artivan's voice shouting: 
 
 " Hilloa, I say, Barbaroosa, where the devil are you? 
 I want you this instant." 
 
 The Marquis started and changed color. 
 
 " Peste! " exclaimed he, under his breath; " we came 
 away without locking the chest ! However," he added, 
 with an expressive shrug, " we could not have done so 
 with only a nail and some bits of wire. Besides, nothing 
 has been taken away, and he can not accuse Barbaroux of 
 theft. It is quite clear to me that this man's emotion 
 proceeds from fright as well as anger. Hear how he 
 roars! Well, we shall see if we have had our trouble for 
 nothing, when Barbaroux gets back. Devil take the 
 fellow, if Barbaroux does not come quickly he will 
 break into my room; and in that case, pardieu, I shall 
 be obliged to use some cold discipline." 
 
 In truth, as the Marquis picked up his sword from a 
 chair where it was always conveniently at hand, it 
 seemed not unlikely that he would presently be com- 
 pelled to use it, for at that moment the irate Gascon, 
 who had rushed through the corridor vociferating 
 loudly, reached the nobleman's door, which he tried to 
 force open. 
 
 "Ah, you are there, you rascal! " cried he in a fury. 
 "Open, then, I tell you; it is I, your master, who has 
 found you out! Your master, do you hear? Ah, sacre, 
 yes, who will give you his boot, you prying maladroit!" 
 
 What would have happened if D'Artivan had burst 
 into the Marquis' bedroom we can only surmise. It is
 
 122 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 certain that the latter was not more than six feet from 
 the door, with a drawn sword in his hand, and a threat- 
 ening scowl on his face, ready to receive the besieger. 
 But at that critical instant Barbaroux entered the house 
 and, hearing the uproar above, at once concluded his 
 master's hiding-place was discovered, and with a groan 
 of anguish hurried up-stairs. His emotion so confused 
 him, in fact, that before he was aware of it he had 
 rushed into the hands of his new master, who immedi- 
 ately clutched him, and proceeded to administer sundry 
 rough shakings to his anatomy. 
 
 We must say that, under this unexpected and decid- 
 edly exasperating treatment, Barbaroux displayed a 
 self-possession and readiness that admirably fitted him 
 for the delicate position he held toward his prescribed 
 master. Relieved to find that the latter was still in 
 safety, he began to comprehend the cause of the new 
 one's wrath and excitement. He pretended to be 
 Intensely astonished and sorrowfully indignant, as he 
 drew himself out of reach and exclaimed, with an inim- 
 itable air of reproach: 
 
 " Monsieur, do you not find the house to be all that 
 I represented to you? I assure Monsieur that it is not 
 my fault if Monsieur is displeased with the arrange- 
 ments, or with the appointments, since " 
 
 "Thousand devils! will you cease your clatter?" 
 shouted D'Artivan, who had not himself ceased. " Now 
 you rascal, listen to me. Look me. in the eye, scelerat, 
 and mind I am watching you! Do not lie to me, for 
 I shall discover it, I warn you, and then, sacre! so much 
 the worse for you. Come, are you going to speak up?" 
 
 Barbaroux certainly had as yet found no opportunity 
 to "speak up," until his excited master paused over this 
 unexpected question. 
 
 " I beg Monsieur's pardon," He now began, in a quiet
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 123 
 
 and respectful tone, " if I confess that I do not know the 
 cause of Monsieur's anger. If Monsieur is offended 
 because I went out during his absence, I would like to 
 be permitted to explain that I have a sick friend in the 
 neighborhood, who is very poor and not able to employ 
 a nurse; and I went to see if he was in want of any- 
 thing. But I do not think I was gone more than three- 
 quarters of an hour." 
 
 "Stop, I tell you, in the devil's name!" cried the 
 Gascon, stamping his foot in desperation. " Morbleu, 
 you will drown me with words. I do not want to know 
 anything about your sick people ; to the devil or Sal- 
 petriere with them. Tell me this : Why did you enter 
 my bed-room, which you did not put in order because 
 you were too busy, eh, in ransacking, eh I wish you to 
 tell me at once, do you hear?" 
 
 Barbaroux gazed at his excited patron with a look 
 of the most profound commiseration. So candid and 
 deliberate was his manner, that D'Artivan's excitement 
 began to subside ; and his features all at once betrayed 
 another emotion fear. He devoured Barbaroux with 
 his eyes, as the latter said, impassively : 
 
 " I do not understand Monsieur at all." 
 
 "What," exclaimed D'Artivan, with a perceptible 
 tremor in his moderated voice; "did you not go into my 
 bed-room while I was absent at the caf6, and open my 
 chest, which I had before locked, leaving it unlocked 
 after you ?" 
 
 The valet's face assumed an expression of profound 
 astonishment. He, however, denied vehemently having 
 done anything of the kind. In the midst of his protes- 
 tation he stopped abruptly, made a significant gesture, 
 and said, with an air of supreme conviction : 
 
 " Ah, mon Dieu, I understand it all very well. Do 
 you not know, Monsieur, that the spies of Robespierre
 
 124 HELENE SA1NTE MAUR. 
 
 and Danton are making domiciliary visits at the houses 
 of all those who are 'suspects?' and is not the Marquis 
 more than a 'suspect?' Well, the wretches have been 
 in this street for several days. Without a doubt they 
 have been watching this house ; and seeing both Mon- 
 sieur and myself leave it within the hour, one of them 
 has slipped in and rummaged the premises. Peste ! 
 Your boxes were opened, you say? Well, that is not at 
 all surprising; they are as expert as the house-breakers, 
 which indeed many of them have been, and do not mind 
 bolts and bars and locks, any more than a ghost." 
 
 D'Artivan's cheeks resumed their natural color, as he 
 listened to this very reasonable explanation. He held 
 out his hand to Barbaroux. 
 
 " Forgive me, my friend," he said, in a tone that, for 
 him, was almost amiable; "without doubt it is as you say, 
 it is those prowling agents of the jacobins. Well, they 
 carried nothing off ; let us say nothing more about the 
 matter; but do not go out again in my absence; it is 
 not safe, as you now see." 
 
 And with a buoyant step, and the swaggering gait 
 which he had so laboriously cultivated, D'Artivan re- 
 turned to his room, where he remained only long enough 
 to attire himself in a plum-colored costume, for a drive 
 in the Champs Elysees, and then left the house. 
 
 Meanwhile the Marquis had been waiting impatiently 
 in his own apartment for Barbaroux' return; and the 
 moment the latter entered he exclaimed: 
 
 "You have been gone a long time; well, that means 
 that you have succeeded in getting what I required." 
 
 Barbaroux replied by giving to his master a piece of 
 paper, at which the latter had scarcely glanced before 
 he exclaimed: 
 
 "Aha, did I not tell you that this D'Artivan is a 
 scoundrel? Listen to this:
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. I2J 
 
 '"The literal translation of the Arabic text you were 
 pleased to send me reads thus: Emil Ferdean, Jeweler 
 and Broker, Smyrna.' 
 
 " Now do you see," continued the Marquis, triumph- 
 antly, that when we looked at the ebony box we found 
 in the bottom of it the means of proving the fellow to be 
 a scoundrel ? Yes, in the bottom of the box we found 
 the mystery." 
 
 Barbaroux looked very much as though he would 
 like less mystification, for certainly he had not had 
 thus far much light thrown upon the queer actions 
 of either the master or the tenant. He began now to 
 ask questions of the Marquis with his eyes; and the 
 latter, observing his puzzled looks, suddenly remem- 
 bered that as yet he had given the man no explanation. 
 
 "I see you do not understand," said he ; "let me 
 explain. Last week, as you knew, the Moniteur gave 
 the particulars of a strange murder committed, it was 
 believed, by one Emil Ferdean, in his own apartment in 
 a street called after the barrier des Gobelins. The mur- 
 dered man was found under the bed, his face soaked in 
 dry blood, and horribly disfigured by rats that had 
 gnawed it ; so much so that it was not recognizable. 
 Ferdean himself had disappeared, and was charged with 
 the murder. Now, I have an idea that it was Ferdean 
 who was murdered for the wealth which we saw in the 
 casket that bears his name, and which was no doubt 
 his property. If so, our 'scoundrel' is the murderer. 
 To-night, he shall meet an inquisitor here ; and it will 
 then appear whether or not my suspicions are correct. 
 If they are, why then I shall own this Victor D'Artivan, 
 body and soul. 
 
 And with a glance at Barbaroux, which sent a shiver 
 through his blood, so full of dark, malignant meaning 
 were the nobleman's eyes, he glided out of the chamber.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 
 
 It was past twelve o'clock that night when, after a 
 day spent in the feverish pursuit of those peculiar pleas- 
 ures which to the boulevardier have at all periods been 
 the chief end of existence, D'Artivan returned to the 
 villa in the Faubourg St. Honore, tired, heated and peev- 
 ish. In the vestibule he found Barbaroux waiting for 
 him. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur," said the valet, addressing him 
 in a low tone, as if afraid of being overheard; "there is, 
 a stranger now in the parlor, who called two hours ago 
 to see you. He insists that his business is serious and 
 concerns yourself particularly, and he will not go until 
 he has had some conversation with you." 
 
 D'Artivan listened uneasily. 
 
 "Who is this nocturnal caller?" asked he, in an 
 irritated voice. 
 
 "He will not give his name." 
 
 "The devil," ejaculated D'Artivan, with a still more 
 troubled expression. Like all uncaught criminals, he 
 was the constant slave of that merciless master who 
 never gives place to any other than Nemesis Dread. 
 
 " Will Monsieur see the visitor? " ventured Barba- 
 roux, who appeared to secretly desire that he should. 
 
 " Peste, yes, I suppose so," replied D'Artivan, who 
 started grumbling toward the parlor, not observing, in 
 his pre-occupation, the gratified smile upon the man's 
 face as he turned away. 
 
 The parlor was darkly lighted when the unwilling 
 
 126
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 127 
 
 host entered it; but he had no fault to find with that, 
 since he felt it impossible to conceal the anxiety which 
 clouded his countenance, or to control the nervousness 
 of his manner. 
 
 The uneasy glance he cast around him rested upon 
 the figure of a tall and sombrely dressed person 
 seated in a recess near the entrance. This man was 
 surprisingly dark, and wore very long black locks that 
 were pushed back over his ears, and an enormous black 
 beard and moustaches. 
 
 D'Artivan stopped short and gazed without speak- 
 ing at his lugubrious visitor, who also remained silent, 
 and sat motionless in his seat, his two penetrating eyes 
 fixed, with an indescribable expression in them, upon 
 the face of the Gascon. 
 
 The latter, feeling more and more uncomfortable, at 
 length cleared his throat with an effort, and asked, hesi- 
 tatingly: 
 
 "You wish to see me?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur," answered the stranger, in a delib- 
 erate tone, and without moving. Then, as though the 
 host and visitor had changed places, he motioned toward 
 a chair, and said, in the same tone : 
 
 " Pray sit down." 
 
 Incensed by this cool .assumption of his own privi- 
 leges, D'Artivan said, hastily : 
 
 " I will attend to my own comfort, if you please. 
 What do you wish of me ? " 
 
 " Well, really," replied the other, in the slow and 
 unembarrassed manner of one who is perfectly at home, 
 " I have so much to say to you that it would be decid- 
 edly fatiguing for you to remain standing all the time 
 you are listening to me." 
 
 D'Artivan, now amazed and angered at the audacity 
 of the man, exclaimed, roughly :
 
 128 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " Sir, if you do not instantly state your business, if 
 you have any here, I will have you thrown into the 
 street." 
 
 The strange visitor eyed him with a look of ironical 
 reproach, and cooly observed, without removing his 
 gaze for a moment: 
 
 " Upon my word, .Monsieur, that would not be at all 
 agreeable to me, and I should vigorously object. But, 
 to the point, since you prefer to take your approaching 
 shock standing, I will not again insist upon your being 
 seated, while I administer it." 
 
 " In the devil's name, who are you? " cried D'Artivan, 
 now pale with apprehension, but equally hot with exas- 
 peration. 
 
 "In the name of justice, you mean, do you not?" 
 retorted the visitor. Then, abruptly changing his tone 
 and manner: 
 
 " Come, we shall be serious as you please. First, 
 then, let me recite : You were in the habit, until a fort- 
 night ago or less, of calling upon a certain jeweler and 
 broker, residing in a certain obscure street near the 
 barriers. The name of this broker was Ferdean." 
 
 The speaker paused a moment, that he might push 
 a chair toward D'Artivan, who had suddenly found his 
 legs giving way under him, and his breath leaving him, 
 at the mention of the Arab's name. As soon as he had 
 sunk down into the seat, the man continued: 
 
 " This broker Ferdean had from time to time loaned 
 you sundry neat little sums upon your own notes which 
 you secured on realty in Gascony. These notes and se- 
 curities, with many others of the same kind, he deposited 
 in a small japanned tin box which he nailed to the in- 
 side of his bedrail, beneath the slats upon which the 
 mattress rested. Ferdean had arranged this ingenious 
 and, as it proved, quite safe hiding-place because, as I
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 1 29 
 
 have said, he had many more such notes as yours, the 
 whole aggregating nearly one hundred and ninety thou- 
 sand francs." 
 
 "Thousand devils ! " groaned D'Artivan, whose cha- 
 grin at not having discovered this Midas-nest banished 
 for the moment even his terror at the revelation. 
 
 "Quite a fortune, yes, for some one," observed the 
 unknown, watching the expression of disappointed 
 greed in the other's face with amused contempt. Then 
 resuming : 
 
 " Nine days ago, at about ten o'clock in the evening, 
 this man, Emil Ferdean, was stabbed with an oriental 
 dagger, and killed, on the floor of his room " 
 
 " Hold on ! It was not Ferdean that was murdered, 
 it was a " 
 
 D'Artivan had bounded from his chair at the words 
 " Ferdean was stabbed," the blood rushing to his heart, 
 and, in his supreme excitement, forgetting precaution, 
 everything save the blind desire to divert the charge 
 which he believed was about to be hurled at him. But 
 in the middle of his unguarded speech he stopped ab- 
 ruptly, and the blood surged from his heart to his face. 
 He sat down, quivering with excitement, and turned his 
 eyes away from those of the terrible accuser that were 
 searching him like the surgeon's probe. 
 
 " Ferdean was murdered," said the man, slowly dwel- 
 ling on each terrible syllable, and ignoring D'Artivan's 
 contradiction as if he had not heard it. 
 
 " Ferdean was killed by a certain person who had 
 called upon him that evening before dark, and who had 
 been fully described by the concierge who had often 
 seen him when he called on the broker." 
 
 D'Artivan uttered a groan and shivered, but offered 
 no other interruption. 
 
 "When this person left the broker's room, on the
 
 130 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 night of the murder, he carried away with him an an- 
 tique, foreign-made coffer of ebony wood " 
 
 This time D'Artivan did not groan, he shouted. He 
 was out of his chair again, and with violent gestures 
 had checked the mysterious visitor. 
 
 " Devils of Hell ! " he cried ; " then it was not the 
 spies of that monster Robespierre who were sneaking 
 into my my rooms this morning. Ah, that idiot Bar- 
 baroosa, his brains are only cheese, he is a mis-er-a-ble, 
 the ass ! Oh, I ought to have known ; you are you 
 come from the Pre " 
 
 Again he stopped short, at the moment he was about 
 to say " Prefecture," and again he sat down, and as 
 before averted his face. 
 
 " This antique box," continued the stranger, as de- 
 liberately as at first, "contained all of Ferdean's wealth 
 except the securities in the box which was concealed 
 under the mattress of his miserable bed, and which the 
 murderer did not find. The murderer and robber has 
 sold some of the jewels, and has spent some of the gold 
 that was in the casket of ebony; but he can not continue 
 to draw on the treasure except by the permission of an- 
 other person who knows all that I have been narrating 
 to you." 
 
 At this point D'Artivan arose, this time silently, 
 slowly, and crept toward the door. His emotions were 
 almost beyond his control. He had at this moment but 
 one overwhelming thought, to steal into his bedroom, 
 seize his precious casket, if it were indeed still there, and 
 fly with it from Paris. 
 
 But even while he was revolving these thoughts in 
 his half-crazed brain, and stealthily moving toward the 
 door, the inexorable visitor said to him, without giving 
 him a glance:
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 13! 
 
 " You need not go in search of the ebony casket, my 
 friend, you will not find it in your room." 
 
 D'Artivan turned quickly. For a while he stared, 
 speechless, dumb; his blood-shot eyes protruding, his 
 hands convulsively twitching. Then a cry like that of 
 an animal escaped his lips ; and without any more 
 warning than Ferdean had given him, he sprang at the 
 stranger's throat, clutching a dagger which he had 
 drawn from under his coat. But he was anticipated ; 
 and he almost thrust his face against a pistol's 
 muzzle. 
 
 " Fool," exclaimed the unknown, with a sneer on his 
 bearded lips, although his eyes betrayed suppressed 
 anger ; " do you think I would come to tell a murderer 
 of his crimes in his own domicil, and that at midnight 
 and alone, without the means of preventing his com- 
 mitting another?" 
 
 D'Artivan dropped his dagger, dropped heavily 
 into his seat, and covered his face with his shaking 
 hands. 
 
 " This man is Satan ! " groaned he, despairingly. 
 Then, suddenly raising his head, and regarding the other 
 with a devouring look: 
 
 "I do not know who you are," said he; " and you 
 refuse to reveal yourself. But I see that you know some- 
 thing, though not all of what transpired at the money- 
 changer's. Now, I swear to you this that I did not 
 kill Ferdean ; that he attacked me with a knife ; and 
 while pursuing me around the room, I threw a quilt 
 from his bed over his face; that he became entangled 
 in its folds, and, falling upon the knife, it entered his 
 side and mortally wounded him. Then, as I knew that 
 he had no relations, and none to leave his possessions to, 
 I took the box and carried it away." 
 
 The stranger listened to this rapidly uttered confes-
 
 132 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 sion with folded arms and a countenance that revealed 
 nothing. When it was concluded, he said, quietly : 
 
 " You admit the robbery ; that is enough to hang 
 you. As for the murder, you could never disprove your 
 guilt. However, as I have decided to use you, I intend 
 to give you a chance for your life. Barbaroux, come 
 in!" 
 
 As if he had been listening outside and waiting for 
 this summons, Barbaroux entered immediately. In his 
 hand he carried a leathern ink-bottle, a sheet of paper 
 and a quill-pen, all which he deposited on a table. Then 
 he stood a few paces off, and silently waited further or- 
 ders from the mysterious "guest." The latter, pointing 
 to the paper, said: 
 
 " This is a full confession of the crimes which you 
 committed against Emil Ferdean and the State. You 
 will sign it in the same handwriting as that which ap- 
 pears in your signatures to the notes you gave to Fer- 
 dean. I have those notes in my possession. Under 
 certain circumstances, it is possible that you may have 
 them retunned to you canceled, but not now. After 
 you have signed, you and I shall each take an oath; you, 
 that you will serve me. in any capacity, at any time, in 
 any manner, and to any extent to which I may choose 
 to employ you, and that without delay, failure or ex- 
 cuse; I, that so long as you shall continue to do all that 
 you have sworn to do, I will not denounce you nor de- 
 liver you into the hands of the law, but will even pro- 
 tect you against it to any reasonable extent, and against 
 my own enemies who will thus become yours. Kead 
 first what is written there, and then sign." 
 
 Nearly blinded by terror, rage and amazement, 
 D'Artivan took the paper in his shaking fingers, and 
 endeavored to read it. but the letters danced like mock- 
 ing imps before his vision, and the only words he saw
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 133 
 
 were "murder," and "robbery," staring at him like 
 menaces from the dead. With almost nerveless fingers 
 he scrawled his name at the foot of the damning page, 
 and sank back with a groan. 
 
 " Witness the confession, Barbaroux," commanded 
 the stranger; and when the valet had done so: 
 
 " Now," said he, turning to D'Artivan, and sud- 
 denly tearing from his face and head the beard, mous- 
 tache and long black locks, " can you not guess who 
 I am?" 
 
 But, although D'Artivan saw his metamorphosis ac- 
 complished with the greatest astonishment, he showed 
 no signs of recognition, but shook his head. 
 
 " No," said he, stupidly; "I should have said you were 
 
 the Marquis of B , whom I used to see often on the 
 
 Boulevards. You certainly resemble him, as I recollect 
 him; but the Marquis lost his nose some time ago. Per- 
 haps you are his brother? " 
 
 " Curse you," muttered the Marquis, for it was he, 
 and as he uttered this malediction he ground his teeth. 
 
 "Ah, I forgot to remove my nose, 1 ' he exclaimed, in 
 a voice the concentrated bitterness of which it would be 
 hard to describe. Then, plucking a wax nose from his 
 face, he stood forth in the full light of a candelabra, that 
 his mutilated face might be seen in all its horrid ugli- 
 ness by the affrighted Gascon. 
 
 " The Marquis " gasped he, shrinking back in his 
 chair, as though the sight withered his eyeballs. 
 
 "Ay, the Marquis," repeated the latter, with icy ex- 
 pressiveness. " And now, since you have identified me, 
 there is no need to delay the second part of our business. 
 Come, let us swear by our hopes of Heaven, ha, ha, 
 and by our fears of Hell, and by the mothers who bore 
 us, to keep inviolate the oaths we severally and sepa-
 
 134 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 rately take here in the presence of each other and in 
 the presence of this honest valet of ours ! " 
 
 Without the energy to insist on being informed of 
 the dubious employment awaiting him, D'Artivan went 
 through the formula passively, scarcely knowing what 
 he was uttering. When this ceremony was ended, the 
 Marquis took up the warrant from the table, walked 
 quietly to the door and, turning at the threshhold, said: 
 
 " It is late, Monsieur D'Artivan, and you will want to. 
 retire. Good-night." 
 
 "But my box, my lord, my box, where is it?" cried 
 D'Artivan, briskly starting toward him with his hands 
 outspread. 
 
 " Oh, Ferdean's box. Yes, certainly, I shall not allow 
 it to fall into any improper hands, my friend. As for 
 the valuables it contains, Barbaroux will deliver them to 
 you to-morrow. Good-night. We shall have work to 
 do soon very soon, I assure you, Monsieur D'Artivan!'' 
 
 And without waiting to listen to the protest his 
 " instrument " was already beginning, the owner of the 
 villa opened the door and, followed by his faithful ser- 
 vant, master and valet were soon in their respective 
 chambers, and preparing for a night of repose. 
 
 As for the tenant, he was lying in a collapsed condi- 
 tion, in the middle of the parlor floor.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MIRABEAU. 
 
 In the eyes of a snail, perhaps, the ambition of Louis 
 XVI. might have appeared lofty; in the eyes of his sub- 
 jects it appeared puerile and contemptible. He aspired 
 to become a good locksmith; but the people wanted a 
 good governor. 
 
 What has been said of other mournful failures may 
 be said of him he meant well. He had given the 
 laborers and bourgeoises a Turgot that too-excellent 
 minister of finance who desired to reduce taxation, 
 refused to borrow and demanded retrenchment at the 
 Court. But for these offenses he had been deposed at 
 the will of the nobles. He had given them Necker,who 
 did what he could to nurse the finances back into health. 
 But Necker, like his predecessor, became odious, because 
 he exposed to the people the fact that the real leeches 
 that were draining the life-blood of the nation were the 
 nobility. The nobles demanded his dismissal, the King 
 was weak and the Swiss banker gave way. Calonne, 
 Brienne and other experimentalists followed, and the 
 public health grew worse. At last that dangerous " rem- 
 edy " which a falling monarch was induced by a des- 
 perate minister to adopt was resorted to: the King 
 convoked the States-General to discuss the situation and 
 devise measures for the public relief. 
 
 This fatal decision caused consternation in more 
 than one quarter. To Helene Sainte Maur it prefigured 
 the ruin of the royal family. 
 
 Helene Sainte Maur was a thorough Frenchwoman 
 135
 
 136 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 in her pride of country, and a representative one in her 
 ready comprehension of its politics. Her opinions were 
 invited, her judgment respected by every one of the 
 Girondists, as well as by many who had as yet remained 
 outside of that perilous arena which was soon to 
 become a vortex. Roland, an oracle with his coterie, 
 often sought her for advice, for ideas. Before the con- 
 voking of the States-General, he went to her with the 
 question: 
 
 " Do you not think it absolutely necessary? " 
 
 But her reply had startled him: 
 
 " The King has committed a frightful mistake. Ca- 
 lonne has rifled the treasury to amuse the people, and 
 broken their backs by levying heavier future burdens 
 upon them. He has built a road to repudiation. This 
 Monseigneur Brienne is an incapable, who will accom- 
 plish nothing. Even Calonne's shoes are too large for 
 him. The situation is pitiable, but as yet the 'people' 
 do not know the truth about it. Well, it is now going 
 to be exposed to them. The King will go to the Assem- 
 bly in a magnificent procession with his courtieurs, the 
 main object of which will be to display the grandeur 
 of the noblesse to the hungry representatives of the 
 people, this ' Third Estate,' which outnumbers them 
 three to one. When his Majesty arrives at the hall, 
 he will find three factions already arrayed against each 
 other, secretly waiting to disagree and disunite to 
 unite against him. And then, when the ragged and 
 tax-ridden representatives of the Tiers-Etat set their 
 eyes upon the sumptuous extravagance of the noblesse, 
 and the sleek faces and arrogant movements of the 
 upper clergy, its hostility will show itself to both 
 orders, and it will set'up housekeeping without them. 
 Such a catastrophe will cost the King his throne per- 
 haps his head."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 137 
 
 Some of the nobles and many of the under-clergy 
 had finally come over to the Tiers-Etat, but the latter 
 had discovered their strength, and were now the real 
 arbiters of the fate of the monarchy. One of their first 
 acts was grimly significant; they elected Dr. Guillotin a 
 representative. 
 
 Becoming bolder, the Assembly began to discuss a 
 constitution. 
 
 The King, concluding it was time to look after his 
 personal safety, filled the Palace at Versailles with Swiss 
 and other foreign troops. This incensed the " people " 
 to such a degree that they broke open the armourers' 
 shops, armed themselves with their stolen weapons, and 
 organized the National Guards, with Lafayette as Com- 
 mander-in-chief. 
 
 Everything was now radical; the word "conservative" 
 was too dangerous to be spoken, it betrayed "aristocrat- 
 ical tendencies." Everything was in motion, passivity 
 was impossible. Change, change, and again change, 
 was the meaning that Mirabeau's cry in the tribune bore 
 to his colleagues in the Assembly 
 
 " Boldness, boldness, and again boldness! " 
 
 The vulgar fustian of the Commons had charmed 
 the vulgar populace ; but the populace so encouraged 
 and flattered the Commons that ere long the latter 
 became insufferable to the other two orders who had, 
 long since, began a struggle against the Tiers-Etat for 
 supremacy. From this contest emerged the mountain 
 afterwards the synonym of terror. 
 
 Two demagogic spirits in the Assembly were, in 
 the main, responsible for this division Mirabeau and 
 Robespierre. 
 
 This turbulent Mirabeau, at heart an aristocrat, while 
 affecting the habits of a bourgeois, had been long an 
 object of dislike to the noblesse. Finally, they virtually
 
 138 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 turned him out of the order; and his then somewhat 
 doubtful fortunes were at once cast with the Commons. 
 At this time the foul-smelling and ragged habitues of 
 the cellars and sewers of Paris were crawling out of 
 their dens and becoming an element of strength. To 
 ingratiate himself with these "sansculottes" Mirabeau 
 opened, and pretended to conduct for awhile, a tailor 
 shop; although it is hardly necessary to say that the 
 proprietor was never, or seldom, seen at his place of 
 business. 
 
 Mirabeau was always complaining of being a poor 
 man. But poverty is "oftener bred from man's wants 
 than from his necessities, and this was a truism in 
 Mirabeau's case. In one way or another he obtained 
 money frequently, and in considerable sums. For some 
 time he was in receipt of twenty thousand francs a 
 month from "Monsieur," the King's brother, his influ- 
 ence being for awhile of grave importance to the royal 
 family. But Mirabeau, while ostentatiously frugal, 
 indulged himself in numerous extravagances, which 
 benefited no one, and kept his ourse lean, and some- 
 times empty. 
 
 One day this Gigas, who was eating his heart out 
 with discontent (that dragon that breeds a thousand 
 plagues), was striding along through the Faubourg St. 
 Germain. He was not often seen in that aristocratic 
 neighborhood now; its memories were somewhat bitter. 
 And on this occasion he seemed in haste to get away 
 from it. 
 
 He had turned westward, and was rapidly proceed- 
 ing in the direction of the I'nvalides, when he passed 
 the chateau of Mile. Sainte Maur. At that moment an 
 elegant coupe stopped in front of the chateau, and a 
 footman in blue livery opened the carriage-door. Mira- 
 beau, glancing casually, saw a fairy-like foot, in a deli-
 
 HETETNE SAINTE MAUR. 139 
 
 cate buskin, peeping out, as it felt for the lowered car- 
 riage-step; and, following the little foot a gloriously 
 beautiful woman. As she crossed the pavement to enter 
 her door, Mirabeau was, for a single instant, within two 
 feet of her, and she naturally gave him a flitting glance. 
 Brief as the contact was, and unconscious as her glance 
 must have been, Mirabeau received a shock. He sud- 
 denly stopped. 
 
 Mademoiselle also stopped; but she did not notice 
 Mirabeau again. She did not know him, nor was she 
 now conscious that he was there. But he certainly was, 
 rooted to the pavement, as much so as if two hands had 
 been thrust up from beneath it and seized his feet. He 
 was devouring her with his eyes, the superb contour of 
 her person, the classic beauty of her features, the 
 exquisite tints of her complexion. To all else he was 
 oblivious. 
 
 Mademoiselle gave the coachman a word or two, and 
 then ran up the steps. The door of the chateau closed 
 upon her, the coupe rolled off, and the footman walked 
 away without observing him. Still he remained. He 
 stared up at the front of the house as though he was 
 on the point of assaulting it. His face became suffused 
 with a deep red hue, his lips murmured indistinct sounds, 
 his eyes grew intensely luminous. After five minutes of 
 this pantomimic display, he passed his hand confusedly 
 over his heavy brow, and passed on with a hasty and 
 nervous stride. 
 
 The next day, Mirabeau went to Madame de Valin- 
 court, who knew everyone, and from her learned all 
 that Paris knew of Mile. Helene Sainte Maur. 
 
 On the fifth evening after that he was formally 
 introduce to Helene in the saloon of Madame de Valin- 
 court, who, though actually a royalist, was on excellent 
 terms with all the republican leaders.
 
 140 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Mirabeau was graciously received by Helene, who 
 saw in him one of the chiefs of the great parties who 
 were shaking France to its center. Whenever she fixed 
 her eyes upon his face, which she frequently did, the 
 expression in them was one of profound interest, of 
 unconscious contemplation. As for him, this scrutiny 
 pleased his vanity which at all times manifested itself, 
 for it was egregious, and increased his self-confidence 
 which was prodigious. That she had captivated him was 
 apparant to many who saw him following her about 
 during the whole evening. She had kindled volcanic 
 fires within his turbulent bosom which nothing but 
 death could quench, and none knew this better than 
 he. When he was preparing for the fifth time to take 
 his leave of her on that initial night, he said to her, in 
 the accents of smothered passion : 
 
 "What they say of you is true: you are Diana made 
 mortal. Well, you have shown me the depths of my 
 own soul." 
 
 After that confession, Helene Sainte Maur's orbit 
 held another satellite and a lurid one indeed. But, 
 unlike that of most of her worshipers, the homage of 
 this one was destined to be one of some service to her. 
 
 The condition of affairs in the Capital, meanwhile, 
 had become serious, then gloomy, finally threatening; 
 and worse was coming. Paris had fallen before an 
 idol, and that idol was Voltaire; it had fled before an 
 ogre, and that ogre was Mesmer. Voltaire had been 
 deified, and Mesmer banished. 
 
 Roland and his co-fanatics had attempted to foster 
 the idea of a new government based upon doctrines 
 dreamed out in the libraries of the Girondists. A "sys- 
 tem " resulted, but Satan came to reign over the ideal gov- 
 ernment of which it was the precursor. Roland's school 
 was academic, it claimed to be a junta of philosophers.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 14! 
 
 But with fanatics philosophy is an abyss. Paris fell 
 into this abyss, and became infidel, and nothing anv 
 longer was sacred. 
 
 France became a country without a God. 
 
 The profligacy of Louis XV. had covered half a cen- 
 tury ; it had devoured everything in the granary 
 Louis XV. died peacefully, however, in a bed draperied 
 with gold tissue. On either side of his couch a priest 
 knelt; and these two in less than half an hour had prayed 
 him out of the world and into . 
 
 His successor inherited a crown which he knew not 
 how to wear; the fealty of a people he knew not how to 
 govern; debts that he knew not how to pay. Unfor- 
 tunately for France, and no less unfortunately for his 
 Queen, was it that, although not a coward, he was a 
 poltroon; although he wished to do right, he was a dolt; 
 although he was not selfish, he was a glutton. 
 
 Knowing nothing of statecraft, the King amused him- 
 self at a workman's bench, in a leathern apron. Disliking 
 court etiquette and constraint, the Queen, in dimity 
 aprons, played at dairy farming with her young maids 
 of honor, in the white marble Trianon the King had 
 caused to be built for her to make butter in; and all 
 this time the mob of starvelings in the great city were 
 howling for loaves they had not the means to buy. 
 
 France itself was impoverished; national bankruptcy, 
 (which afterwards came) impended ; and behind the 
 spectre of bankruptcy stood a demon upon whose livid 
 brow was written that word more terrible than all others 
 to a nation Anarchy. 
 
 Discontent was everywhere. France had long been 
 traveling toward revolution; Paris was already ripe for 
 it. The idlers, the criminals, the workmen of Paris had 
 met, fraternized, combined and conspired. Now taught 
 that there was no God, and that conscience was <; a
 
 142 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 superstition," that man was the lawful prey of man, 
 they were about to let loose their long-repressed pas- 
 sions, and begin a carnival of blood. 
 
 The center of this living maelstrom was the Bastille, 
 that fortress of tyranny and sepulchre of hope. 
 
 This immense prison, one of the most infamous in 
 all history, was situated in the space now called Place 
 de la Bastiile, in the northeastern portion of Paris. Its 
 gloomy stone walls, thirty feet thick at the base and ten 
 at the summit, were penetrated by loop-holes through 
 which a small garrison or guard could easily direct a fire 
 of annihilation with cannon and musketry upon a for- 
 midable besieging force. Triple gratings admitted air 
 and fragmentary rays of light into the prison. But 
 these mournful rays came from a sun saddened by the 
 aspect of misery which forever met them within those 
 deep-laid walls. The surrounding walls and gates 
 barriers were huge and formidable. The eastern end 
 of the Rue St. Antoine, extending from the Hotel de 
 Ville on the west, opened on the Bastille grounds; and 
 the Faubourg St. Antoine proper, with its network of 
 narrow streets so dangerous in time of local insurrec- 
 tions extended from it toward the eastern barriers of 
 the city. 
 
 On the night of the i3th July, 1789, the royal session 
 of the Assembly sat in ominous and troubled silence at 
 Versailles, as if waiting to hear the tocsin sounded by 
 the two hundred thousand armed citizens who had that 
 day declared that the Bastille must be razed. 
 
 On the day after that sleepless and useless session 
 the threat was fulfilled. 
 
 At ten o'clock in the morning, the old and grizzled 
 veteran, Commandant Launay, saw from the roofs of 
 the Bastille thousands of dark objects approaching from 
 four directions. To him, from his lofty outlook, they
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 143 
 
 appeared like human larvae, as they crept along the 
 streets. As they came nearer, the hum, not of wings, but 
 of voices, was borne up to him, and he said, as he looked: 
 
 " They be'gin with the Bastille; they will end with 
 the throne." 
 
 The streets in the neighborhood of the fortress had 
 since daybreak been thronged with bands of workmen. 
 The Rue St. Antoine had arisen, lit ere daybreak by 
 incendiary fires, and had warmed itself for serious work. 
 The Ouartier had been swept by a tourbillon of cavalry 
 which, after killing a few hundreds of the insurgents, 
 had disappeared as rapidly as they had come. 
 
 But, as if they had crawled out of the earth, the des- 
 perate rabble had again swarmed into the street which 
 now leads from the Place du Trone to the grounds of 
 the Bastille, augmented by citizen-soldiers who were 
 being led by veterans. 
 
 And now, beginning with an ominous murmur that 
 rose and swelled into a mighty shout, came the hoarse 
 cry of the commune "A bas le Bastille!" 
 
 The revolution was at hand.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ACHILLE DUDEVANT. 
 
 Between the beginning of July and the beginning of 
 October, 1789, events of the utmost importance to both 
 the nation and King had transpired in the French 
 capital. Paris was now a seething vortex, into which 
 its entire population was being drawn, and in the midst 
 of that human maelstrom were those whose history we 
 are writing. 
 
 The human stomach is an animal. Fill it to repletion 
 and there is torpor, indifference, stupidity. Supply it 
 generously, and there is energy, good nature and peace. 
 Deny it food, starve, it, and it stirs with discontent, and 
 this discontent finally generates hate, rage, frenzy, 
 despair and vengeance. 
 
 Such had been the condition of the Parisian stomach 
 among the working classes for an indefinite period. 
 The scarcity of bread had increased, and the canaille 
 had grown gaunt and dangerous again. No longer 
 fed on the pabulum of hope, they had succumbed to 
 despair. The King's purse was empty, not a louis d'or 
 remained. Still, there remained to him five hundred 
 horses, the most superb that money, influence and force 
 could procure from all quarters of the globe. These 
 horses, however, were for the sole use of royalty; they 
 were housed in the magnificent crescent-shaped stables 
 at the end of the grand avenue at Versailles; their coats 
 were always well-lined and slick, and the chief veterinary 
 received ten thousand livres a year for keeping them 
 with good appetites. 
 
 144
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 145 
 
 On the morning of the 5th of October, there was 
 another revolt; hunger could be borne no longer. At 
 an early hour market porters who had nothing to carry 
 in their baskets, poissardes who had no fish to clean, 
 butchers who had no beef to slaughter or serve, the 
 vagabondage of the by-ways, made their way into the 
 Bastille grounds, crying in hoarse or feeble tones: 
 
 "A bas les Aristocrats ! " 
 
 What had they come there for? No one knew except 
 themselves, and as for them, they could give no explana- 
 tion. They knew what they wanted, however, and they 
 were in search of it. Victory had for the first time met 
 them before the Bastille; oerhaps they should find it on 
 the same spot again. 
 
 Suddenly, there was another irruption but this time 
 of women. Hundreds of them came from every street 
 in the neighborhood, pouring into the open space like 
 the torrent of an enormous sewer. These women were 
 scantily clad; their clothing, if rags may be called cloth- 
 ing, hanging loosely upon them and gaping with rents. 
 They were gaunt and pale and haggard the most of 
 them; but here and there was one whose stout and 
 brawny frame famine had not attacked or could not con- 
 quer. Except these few, the young girls, the young 
 women, the old and hideous hags, all wore the same 
 look of ravening hunger, of wild-eyed despair, and vin- 
 dictive fury. 
 
 Here was a picture of Inferno. 
 
 Suddenly, a man pushed his way into their midst. 
 He was dressed like a schoolman, was about thirty years 
 of age, and had a shrewd face which was lighted by two 
 observant black eyes. The name of this man was 
 Achille Dudevant, of whom we have already heard. 
 
 What was he doing there ? 
 
 This question rose to the lips of some of the women,
 
 146 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 who began to eye him with looks that were at once sus- 
 picious and threatening. 
 
 But Dudevant showed neither hesitation nor fear. 
 With a flourish of his hand he commanded silence; and 
 the poor creatures, who had come there for they knew 
 not what, crowded eagerly around him, and for a time 
 ceased to screech and curse. 
 
 " My good women," began Dudevant, in a loud voice; 
 " you have come here to do something, have you not ? '' 
 
 " Yes, yes, my God, yes ! " screamed the beldames, in 
 chorus, flinging their skinny arms over their unkempt 
 heads. 
 
 " Good. Then listen to me. Do you know the way 
 to Versailles ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, we know it, we know it ! Madame Deficit 
 is there," came the shrill chorus. 
 
 Dudevant laughed. The canaille had been taught 
 by Danton to call the Queen by that name, which meant 
 that she had bankrupted France, and caused all their 
 misery. He did not correct them, but continued : 
 
 "Versailles is twelve miles from Paris, by the finest 
 avenue in the world. It is twenty-five toises wide, and 
 shaded with fine linden and poplar trees. You will 
 enjoy a promenade on it, and you have the right to do 
 so. Well, the King lodges at the other end of that 
 avenue; and every day thirteen hundred idle people are 
 sumptuously fed from his feables." 
 
 "A bas les Aristocrats ! " 
 
 Twice the frenzied cry was repeated, before Dude- 
 vant could proceed. 
 
 " You are right," shouted he, as soon as he could 
 make himself heard above the tintamarre. " Well, you 
 are hungry, my poor friends, and I have come to tell 
 you that there are a thousand cart-loads of corn at Ver- 
 sailles. Go there, and you will find plenty of food.
 
 HELENE SAINTK MAUR. 147 
 
 Select twelve strong and shrewd women among you for 
 a committee. Let these twelve go into the palace and 
 sec the King. You will remain outside, but these twelve 
 must force themselves in, do you hear?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" shrieked the beldames. 
 
 'Do not be afraid to do so. Not one of the National 
 Guards, or the King's Guards, will fire on a woman of 
 France, nor offer her a bayonet thrust. Let the- com- 
 mittee demand of the King bread and rice. Then eat, 
 and eat, and eat again. One such visit will be enough, 
 I warrant you; and, after that, bread will be distributed 
 every day to the poor of Paris. Now, then, off with 
 you! " 
 
 "To Versailles, to Versailles!" shouted the frenzied 
 women, before whose distorted eyes were already vis- 
 ions of eating and drinking to satiation; and with one 
 tremendous surge they turned their faces toward the 
 west, followed by several hundred working men and 
 marauders, who desired to see the "women emeute," as 
 well as to participate in the spoil, if any should be 
 secured. 
 
 Mingling in the crowd of women, and tenaciously 
 holding his place near the seditious journalist, was a 
 young man dressed in a porter's blouse and overalls, 
 and wearing the red cap which was the surest passport 
 into such a gathering, and in this case allowed the 
 wearer to pass unquestioned, although he neither sang 
 nor shouted. This man had been an eager listener to 
 everything that Dudevant had uttered. He had fol- 
 lowed the latter all the way from the Hotel de Ville, 
 and penetrated the crowd of women after him, deter- 
 mined, as it appeared, to keep his man in sight and hear 
 what he had come there to say. As the throng rushed 
 out of the Place de la Bastille, this person separated 
 from it, after being carried along with the muddy cur-
 
 148 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 rent as far as St. Paul's, where he slipped into a heavy 
 portal, mounted a step, and allowed the multitude to 
 pass on. Had any chance acquaintance met him there 
 he would have been easily recognized, in spite of the 
 disguise he wore, by the ugly scar on his left cheek. It 
 was, in fact, D'Artivan, the tool and spy of the Marquis 
 
 of B , dogging the tool and spy of Robespierre and 
 
 Danton. 
 
 While D'Artivan stood watching the last of the rab- 
 ble, some one touched him on the arm. He started 
 and, turning his head hastily, beheld, with some con- 
 fusion, Dudevant himself standing at his side and laugh- 
 ing maliciously, his hat pulled down over his rat-like 
 eyes, his whole manner triumphant and gleeful. 
 
 D'Artivan stared at him with a look of surprise, 
 which did not conceal an expression of dislike also. 
 But for the moment Dudevant was too much engrossed 
 to observe either. 
 
 "Saints and devils!" exclaimed he, surveying the 
 porter's dress of the other, without ceasing to laugh. 
 " You have changed your calling, then, and you are now 
 an honest bonnet- rouge. Good ! Well, you saw, did 
 you not, how I played the orator just now? What do 
 you think of my little trick? My committee will leave 
 some Paris mud on the palace steps, those fine white 
 marble steps, thirty feet wide, that lead up toward the 
 King's apartments. Oh, they are sweet children, these 
 she- wolves ! Couthon was right; only let them see the 
 luxury in which this fat burgher wallows, and they will 
 be ripe for anything." 
 
 D'Artivan glowered at the speaker with increasing 
 anger. His mind had been running back to the scene 
 in the caf6 of the Three Virgins, and Dudevant's part in 
 it. Then, he was violently hostile to the ragged pop- 
 ulace, which was destroying everything existing and
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 149 
 
 creating nothing. They had been the instruments of 
 harm to him, since repudiation had begun, not only on 
 the part of the spurious "government," but among the 
 farmers themselves, the tenants of landed proprietors. 
 Moreover,- he was wedded in interest to the Marquis of 
 
 B , a fierce and uncompromising royalist whom 
 
 the canaille had ostracized. While he gazed silently 
 and with gathered brows at Dudevant, the latter sud- 
 denly glanced at the cicatrice on his face. 
 
 "Hullo!" cried he, bursting into another laugh, 
 which was all the more hearty because he was -reminded 
 at the moment of D'Artivan's insulting epithets just 
 before the latter received the scar. " And so you still 
 carry Mademoiselle's card, eh? " 
 
 D'Artivan reddened furiously; but he did not under- 
 stand the remark, and glared in silence at the jour- 
 nalist. 
 
 " Oho," continued Dudevant; "I see that you have 
 really never been enlightened about your lucky adver- 
 sary. "Ho, ho, that is droll, upon my soul!" and he 
 fairly doubled his body like a half-closed clasp-knife, in 
 the excess of his mirth. 
 
 "Sir," growled D'Artivan, passionately, "what is the 
 matter with you, and what are you talking about?" 
 
 "Oh, I am on the point of telling you; only it is so 
 exceedingly funny however, here goes. Your victor in 
 the duel in which you stopped his sword on your cheek 
 bone so neatly was not Monsieur Aubrey! " 
 
 D'Artivan sneered contemptuously. "Well, I am not 
 surprised at that. Probably he had some doubts about 
 the result of the affair, and thought of the false name as 
 a screen. And, in faith, I think it would have been a 
 precaution well taken if I had not thought him too much 
 of a boy to attempt my best with. But I do not see 
 anything funny in this."
 
 150 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " But that is not all. Your antagonist who so neatly 
 carved you was a girl! " 
 
 D'Artivan sprang down from the stone steps, his 
 eyes flaming. 
 
 "What do you say?" he shouted, paying no atten- 
 tion to the passers-by, several of whom had stopped to 
 listen to this singular colloquy. 
 
 "I say," repeated Dudevant, with a very slow enun- 
 ciation, in order to prolong the effect of the shock/'that 
 your antagonist in the duel was a girl; and that the 
 girl was Mademoiselle Clarise, the fiancee of our mutual 
 acquaintance, Paul Cambray!" 
 
 D'Artivan waited to hear no more. With a yell that 
 sounded strangely savage in that crowded thoroughfare 
 he bounded away towards the quay, followed by the 
 laughter and jeers of a score of loiterers who had gath- 
 ered around the journalist.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE CAVALCADE. 
 
 At twelve o'clock noon, on the day of the emeute of 
 the women in the Rue St. Antoine, Sir Philip Belmore, 
 Hubert and Ralph Meltham and Captain Felix Dumes- 
 nil, attended by the three valets of the Englishmen, and 
 all finely mounted, entered the middle course of the 
 Grand Avenue leading from Paris to Versailles. The 
 morning was disagreeable; a drizzling rain had been 
 falling for hours, and was now threatening to become a 
 steady down-pour. 
 
 One-third of the distance had been covered, and the 
 party was pushing forward at a spirited gait, when they 
 saw before them, and proceeding in the same direction 
 as themselves, a motley throng of people. 
 
 "Good heaven, Dumesnil," exclaimed Sir Philip, 
 turning a disturbed look upon the latter; "yonder rab- 
 ble are on their way to the Palace! Can the miscreants 
 mean to attack it, think you?" 
 
 Dumesnil laughed grimly. He knew something of 
 the Parisian temper, of the capricious cruelty of the 
 populace. 
 
 " Not this time," returned he; "they are only going 
 to spy out the land and to bully the King, who is no 
 longer able to protect himself. But, mon Dieu!" he 
 suddenly roared; "they are women! Come," giving the 
 rein to his horse, " let us forward and see what Paris 
 has vomited on Versailles this morning." 
 
 His companions, especially Sir Philip, who was 
 strangely disturbed, needed no urging. The whole cav- 
 
 151
 
 152 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 alcade started into a gallop; and in a quarter of an hour 
 they were in the midst of as strange a rabble as ever 
 infested the purlieus of a city. 
 
 Following the devilish promptings of the journalist 
 Dudevant, six hundred women, famished and desperate, 
 had actually set out on that dismal morning on their 
 wild and hopeless errand. They were accompanied by 
 several hundred idle men, some fragments of the many 
 thousands who for months had oscillated from one side 
 to the other of Paris, searching for plunder, inciting 
 sedition and urging violence. 
 
 From one of these vagabonds, a sooty-faced, ruffianly 
 fellow, Sir Philip learned the forlorn object of their 
 visit. It seemed to him incredible. 
 
 "What madness!" exclaimed he, in amazement, as 
 he slowly threaded the stream of savage humanity; 
 "they will get nothing there." 
 
 "Morbleu! what is that you say?"* shouted the 
 ruffian, who had followed close behind him. "They 
 will get nothing, eh?" he growled, angrily; "aha! you 
 must be one of the cursed aristocrats." Then, elevat- 
 ing his voice so that it was plainly heard above the din 
 of the moving mass: 
 
 " Hear him, hear this aristocrat ! " he vociferated, 
 pointing to Sir Philip, who indeed "looked every inch 
 an aristocrat," as he spurred his horse on through the 
 press. 
 
 Instantly a thousand blood-shot and wolfish eyes 
 were on him, a thousand gaunt or brawny arms were 
 stretched toward him, while hundreds of hoarse voices 
 shrieked or vociferated : 
 
 "Down with the aristocrat! Down with him! " 
 
 Belmore looked quickly about him, and perceived 
 nothing whatever of his party, as he peered forward 
 through the veil of mist which was now beginning to
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 153 
 
 envelop the heads of the multitude. He had loitered 
 behind his friends, without their observing it; and hav- 
 ing no motive in lingering in the midst of the foul- 
 smelling and writhing mass, they had pushed ahead, had 
 cleared the crowd, and left it a hundred paces behind 
 them before they discovered that Sir Philip was not 
 following. Between them and him was now a solid mass 
 of desperate and hostile wretches, who were pressing 
 toward him from flank, front and rear, with savage 
 curses and murderous intent, some armed with forks 
 and knives, others with butcher's cleavers, pikes or 
 staves. 
 
 He looked down on them without fear, but even 
 while he looked twenty blackened hands were raised and, 
 clutching their rude weapons, as many ruffians pushed 
 their way fiercely toward him. His bridle-reins were 
 seized, then his stirrups, by the hags who surrounded 
 him, and a huge foundryman, in overalls and blouse, 
 grasped the tail of his horse and attempted to hold the 
 struggling animal back. 
 
 The situation of Sir Philip was critical in the 
 extreme, as he instantly comprehended. Cut off from 
 his friends, surrounded by hundreds of human wolves 
 thirsting for his life, horse and driver in the grasp of a 
 score of them, escape seemed an impossibility. 
 
 But the eye of Belmore, instead of quailing at the 
 formidable signs that greeted it, flamed fire; his cheek, 
 instead of blanching, glowed redly, for the Saxon blood 
 was surging hotly through them. Rising in his stir- 
 rups, and shortening his rein, he shouted as he drew his 
 sword: 
 
 " Back! On your lives, back! " 
 
 His voice rang out like the notes of a trumpet above 
 the now deafening hubbub, and there was a momentary 
 recoil, as he drew his horse together for a spring. In
 
 154 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 that one instant his quick eye had swept the circle of 
 his foes, and in one direction, to the left oblique, he 
 saw they were thinnest and composed entirely of men. 
 The stern look in his face for a moment changed to a 
 look of gratitude; it was no longer necessary to trample 
 down, or to do horrible, nay, shameful, battle with 
 women, and from such a contest his soul revolted, even 
 though these women were unsexed hags, furies who 
 were seeking his life. 
 
 Tightening his rein, he gave the spur to his horse, 
 but in the very act of a leap it fell backward. 
 
 A pang shot through Belmore's heart. To lose his 
 horse now was to lose his life, to be torn to pieces by 
 those vultures in human shapes. Could it be that some 
 demon had driven a knife into its vitals? 
 
 Turning in his saddle, he saw, with a throb of joy, 
 the burly foundryman tugging and dragging at the tail 
 of the horse. There was a crescent of light, as his sword 
 buried itself in the neck of the ruffian, and at the same 
 moment his horse bounded' forward. 
 
 Fearful cries followed this leap, for the merciless 
 hoofs had hurled down and trampled upon three of the 
 wretches who had tried to seize their prey. But again 
 the spurs were driven into the smoking flanks, and two 
 more frantic leaps of the straining and now thoroughly 
 frightened animal bore down the struggling madmen in 
 front. The yells of agon)' and fury that rose from their 
 mangled throats were appalling; but, instead of affright- 
 ing those who had escaped, the cries of the wounded 
 only increased their rage. They surged forward; a living 
 wall surrounded the horseman, a sea of demoniac faces 
 glared into his, and a forest of arms, with fingers and 
 talons spread like knotted branches, swayed above their 
 uncouthed heads. 
 
 Sir Philip urged his steed forward; but while it
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 155 
 
 bravely responded, it forced its way but a foot at a time 
 The moments were passing, and each moment was bring- 
 ing to Belmore, nearer and nearer, a horrible death. 
 
 Again he rose in his stirrups; again he sent his warn- 
 ing, trumpet-like and stern, to the foes in front of and 
 around him. Then, as he plied the spurs once more, he 
 turned a trifle toward the left, and gave them the sword. 
 Blow after blow, directed with the celerity of lightning, 
 the precision of fate, cut them down, through skull and 
 brisket, mowing a red lane as he advanced. 
 
 He had neared the front of the mob ; he could see, 
 through the thickening mist, the broad open way beyond 
 for a moment as the breeze lifted the white veil. A 
 few more leaps and he should be out of that living hell. 
 
 At the instant he was preparing for the last super, 
 human effort his ears were pierced by a shriek from his 
 horse, almost human in its agony; it sprang into the air, 
 and fell quivering to the ground in the midst of the 
 howling throng. 
 
 One of the miscreants had driven a pike into its 
 bowels. 
 
 Sir Philip was thrown forward, but alighted on his 
 feet, still grasping his sword, and without an instant's 
 hesitation he began to use it. Thus far his dauntless 
 courage, his remarkable skill, his wonderful presence of 
 mind, had preserved his life among a thousand perils, 
 that, like living things, had leaped around him; but 
 now, unhorsed, alone, hemmed in by innumerable ene- 
 mies, whose foul and heated breath suffocated him, what 
 chance had he for life ? 
 
 One man to a thousand demons !
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE RESCUERS. 
 
 When Sir Philip Belmore stopped in the midst of 
 the mob to question the workman, he was already some 
 paces behind his party. His brothers were conversing 
 with Dumesnil, and these three were riding abreast, as 
 were the three valets close behind them. The anxiety 
 of Sir Philip to ascertain the meaning of this march to 
 Versailles, and which we shall hereafter justify, was not 
 shared by his companions, and they only desired to 
 extricate themselves from the malodorous throng as 
 soon as possible. They had therefore pushed vigorously 
 ahead, being particularly careful not to injure the 
 ragged creatures who were constantly darting in front 
 of or under the legs of their horses. They lost nothing 
 by their prudence; no opposition was offered them, and 
 much to their relief, they were soon clear of the multi- 
 tude. They had thus far felt no concern for their own 
 safety nor for his, since the rioters had shown no hos- 
 tility towards them, and they knew nothing of Sir 
 Philip's collision with the workman. 
 
 When about one hundred yards in advance of the 
 columns they looked back, and to their surprise saw 
 nothing of Sir Philip. The insurgents at that moment 
 exhibited only a sea of heads, above which the horse- 
 men could perceive nothing. The rain had changed 
 into a thick and chill mist, which at first had settled on 
 the warm ground, but was now being lifted by the 
 breeze, and wreathing itself around the heads and 
 bodies of the marching columns. Soon nothing could 
 
 156
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. I$7 
 
 be seen of these columns but irregular and fantastically 
 outlined shapes that were moving hither and thither in 
 all directions except that of Versailles. Apparently the 
 masses were pressing toward the center. These singu- 
 lar movements, coupled with the absolute disappear- 
 ance of Sir Philip, at once excited the alarm of his 
 friends, which was soon increased by terrific yells, curses, 
 groans and shrieks, which now began to issue out of the 
 fog. 
 
 As these ominous sounds were now borne forward 
 to them on the wind, Guppy suddenly cried, 
 
 " Gen'l'men all! Them wegrants air 'avin' a scrim- 
 mage, and my master's in the thick 'o it. H'i'm after 
 'im! " And with violent objurgations upon his 'orse 
 that wouldn't pick hup its legs, he immediately started 
 toward the scene of the supposed melee. 
 
 The same impulse had seized the rest of the party; 
 and giving rein to their horses they rapidly galloped 
 back. 
 
 As they came nearer, Dumesnil thought he dis- 
 tinguished the voice of Sir Philip above the now horri- 
 ble din; and, realizing the imminent peril in which the 
 latter was now undoubtedly placed, he struck the spurs 
 into the flanks and bounded at the living barrier that 
 loomed directly in front of him. 
 
 " Make way ! " roared he, uprearing his colossal form 
 in the saddle, and drawing his enormous sword from its 
 scabbard. 
 
 Thus adjured, and astonished by this gigantic appa- 
 rition, which they could only dimly see rising up through 
 the mist, the barrier gave way, leaving a gap through 
 which the horsemen effected an entrance. But the rent 
 was instantly closed behind them; and, before they 
 realized their terrible position, they looked upon a com- 
 pact, unbroken sea of upturned faces, livid with fury
 
 158 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 they felt the nervous clutch of countless hands, like the 
 arms of the octopus, stretched toward them to drag 
 them from their saddles into the maw of death. 
 
 Dumesnil's companions were, like himself, armed 
 with swords; but the valets had only their whips. These 
 implements, however, were in the hands of their skillful 
 and active owners, and were to prove almost as effective 
 as the steel. Made of tough thongs of leather, plaited 
 tightly together, and attached to the wrist by leather 
 loops, these whips were formidable weapons; and the 
 valets showed their disposition to use them, as they 
 raised them above their heads and rode fearlessly into 
 the ranks of the infuriated rioters. 
 
 Suddenly, the same bewildering question rose to the 
 minds of the six horsemen in which direction was Sir 
 Philip? The thick mist had wrapped everything in an 
 impenetrable shroud; and while they dared not remain 
 for an instant in the same spot, they knew not in which 
 portion of the forest of bodies to begin their search. 
 
 While they hesitated, a clarion-like voice within 
 twenty feet of them, rose out of the tumult : 
 
 " Back, assassins, or you die! " 
 
 It was at that instant that Belmore had begun to 
 attack those in front of him, over the body of his fallen 
 horse. Nothing of this could, of course, be seen by 
 his friends, but they comprehended none the less clearly 
 the necessity for quick and desperate action on their 
 own part. 
 
 Dumesnil's lion-like voice rose to its full pitch as he 
 shouted : 
 
 " Forward! and keep close together." 
 
 Simultaneously, the six rescuers, in close rank, 
 plunged forward into the very arms of the howling 
 wretches who were crowding in front of them to arrest 
 their progress. But Dumesnil, in the weird obscurity
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 159 
 
 of the mist which enveloped him, appeared like a mov- 
 ing tower; while his horse, a huge and powerful Nor- 
 man, loomed out of its white shroud like some gigantic 
 and fabled monster. Unmoved by the pandemonium 
 around it, it bore its ponderous rider irresistibly 
 forward, overturning and trampling as it went, the 
 two striking terror every instant into the hearts of 
 those they encountered. Close at his side rode the 
 brothers, and behind them the three valets who were 
 using their terrible whips at every step upon the scowl- 
 ing faces of those who came within their reach. At 
 every step, indeed, a sooty hand was thrust out to grasp 
 their bridles, or, clutching at their limbs, attempt- 
 ing to pull them from their seats. The usually 
 mild blue eyes of Guppy were blazing, but not a sound 
 escaped his lips; only a smile parted them, a smile of 
 intense bitterness. Sir Philip was his idol; and Guppy 
 was picturing to himself, repeatedly, as he rode forward, 
 the horrible possibility of finding that idol, in a few, 
 minutes more, battered into an unrecognizable heap, or 
 pierced with forks and pikes, and dead. 
 
 These reflections maddened the honest valet until 
 he scarce resembled himself, and his two companions 
 glanced at him with astonishment. His whip hissed in 
 the air, and cracked like pistol shots in the faces of 
 those who pressed upon him, at every step of his horse. 
 
 Men and women were now intermingled in one 
 writhing swarm, surrounding the horsemen and crowd- 
 ing against the flanks of their reeking steeds with reck- 
 less determination and mad ferocity. The iron hoofs, 
 the keen sword-blades, the scorpion-like lashes, now 
 every instant descending upon their heads and limbs, 
 were making fearful havoc among them; but instead of 
 abating their fury they augmented it. 
 
 Guided by the singular commotion that proceeded
 
 l6o HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 from the spot where Sir Philip fought alone and on foot, 
 his friends continued to force their desperate way; and 
 in a few minutes which to him and them seemed never- 
 ending they burst into the cramped arena, where they 
 found him wielding a dripping sword with one hand, 
 and with the other forcing back the assailants, who were 
 fast closing in upon him. 
 
 Guppy was the first to reach his side. Uttering a 
 terrific cry the moment he espied his master, a cry of 
 mingled rage and delight, he had lashed his horse into 
 a frenzy, driving it forward through the infernal mass. 
 Crushing, killing, mangling, his frantic steed 'carried 
 him forward, while he plied his formidable whip with 
 fearful effect. Springing from his saddle, he thrust the 
 bridle-rein over the left arm of his master and shouted: 
 
 "Give me your place, Sir Philip, and take mine! " 
 
 The tones of Guppy's voice were joyous; they could 
 not have been more so if he had suddenly found him- 
 self in an English forest, face to face with the antlered 
 game his master loved to hunt. 
 
 Sir Philip flashed upon his follower a glance which 
 thrilled him. "Well done, my lad! "he panted; and, 
 with extreme difficulty vaulting into the saddle: 
 
 " Here," he called breathlessly; "mount behind me 
 quick! " 
 
 But Guppy was already occupied, and busily so. 
 
 "I've some vork to do 'ere first, Sir," responded he, 
 setting about it with both of his exceedingly hard and 
 vigorous fists. 
 
 But in spite of this cheerful disposition, the death 
 which until now had threatened the master would 
 assuredly have overtaken the servant, had not Dumesnil 
 been near at hand. While Sir Philip was engaged in an 
 attempt to widen the space around the party, aided by 
 his brothers, a man of muscular frame and the most
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. l6l 
 
 x 
 
 brutal aspect forced his way to the spot. It was the 
 ruffian whom Sir Philip had accosted, the direct instiga- 
 tor of the affray. In his blackened hands he carried a 
 rusty pike which he levelled at Guppy, whose back was 
 at that moment turned to him, and lunged forward, 
 shouting hoarsely: 
 
 " Down with the slaves of the aristocrats! Oh, we 
 will have bread to eat, or we will have blood to drink, 
 pardieu." 
 
 "Drink your own, then scoundrel!" thundered 
 Dumesnil, bringing his sword down upon the ruffian's 
 right shoulder, and literally cleaving him to the heart. 
 With a yell of agony, he tumbled between the forelegs 
 of the Captain's horse, which at the same instant set its 
 huge hoof upon his head, crushing it into hideous shape- 
 lessness. 
 
 "Sacre," growled Dumesnil, now seizing the pugilist 
 under an arm and lifting him from his feet, "spring up 
 behind me, ass, 'for your life! " 
 
 Guppy, somewhat astonished, and rather cooled by 
 this narrow escape, snatched the pike from his dead 
 enemy, and with surprising agility leaped to the crup- 
 per of Dumesnil's saddle, barely escaping a vicious blow 
 from a butcher's cleaver. 
 
 The situation of the seven horsemen was now appall- 
 ing. Hundreds were crowding toward them; every 
 second naiTowed the little space in which they kept 
 their weapons incessantly playing. If hemmed in as 
 closely here as Sir Philip had been they were certainly 
 lost; their horses would be as incapable of motion as if 
 encased in iron. They must force themselves out of 
 that seething hell, without pausing for a single instant 
 on the terrible path, blocked though it was with human 
 bodies. To halt would be fatal; to fail was to be torn 
 limb from limb.
 
 162 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Dumesnil's great eyes described a circle. They 
 seemed to devour the whole terrible throng, to pierce 
 the fog which lay like a pall over it. To the left, in 
 the direction of Versailles, it appeared thinnest. .The 
 rabble had rushed from that direction at the beginning 
 of the affray, and the impetus had carried them mostly 
 to the right of the spot where Sir Philip had made his 
 stand. 
 
 " It is a hole to crawl through," muttered the giant; 
 " Mon Dieu, yes, if it is not compressed too soon." 
 
 The horsemen had formed a circle, the flanks of their 
 horses touching; and every moment one of them was 
 obliged to leap forward to force back or cut down an 
 approaching rioter. Horses, riders, all were beginning 
 to feel the effect of such exercise. - 
 
 "We must get out of this," muttered Sir Phillip, 
 who had received a severe blow in the side, and was 
 evidently in a far worse plight than either he or his 
 friends imagined. 
 
 Dumesnil had already decided. He pointed toward 
 the left, where the fog was lifting. Beyond not more 
 than twenty paces from them the open road swept on 
 to Versailles. 
 
 "Wheel on my left into line!" shouted Dumesnil; 
 and with his heavy sword he described a swath around 
 him. The mob recoiled, and left them with a dozen 
 feet of ground. 
 
 " Foward, and ride close. " 
 
 Both these quick commands were as quickly obeyed. 
 In one impervious line they dashed toward the rift, 
 which at that supreme moment seemed to their eager 
 eyes an outlet to Heaven. 
 
 Surprise and consternation at this sudden onset held 
 back the few who blocked the way in that direction; 
 and, although the respite was brief, it was enough. Be-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 163 
 
 fore the mob could rally, a bloody lane had opened, 
 mowed by the terrible cavalcade as it passed on and out 
 like a whirlwind. Missiles and maledictions followed 
 the horsemen as they sped onward, until they could hear 
 nothing but a sullen hum behind them. 
 
 As soon as they slackened their pace attention was 
 given to Sir Philip, whose condition certainly appeared 
 to require it. His clothing hung about him in tatters, 
 and he had lost his hat. He had received numerous 
 and violent kicks about the limbs, a heavy blow in 
 the side, and many severe bruises on his arms. Besides, 
 he was fearfully exhausted ; and now that the neces- 
 sity for extraordinary exertion no longer existed, he 
 drooped in his saddle, and the pallor of his face 
 increased. 
 
 Nothing short of his inflexible will could have kept 
 him on his horse during the remainder of that anxious 
 journey. It was fully an hour and a half before they rode 
 up to the royal stables at Versailles. They were a sorry 
 looking party, and they preferred not to present them- 
 selves at the Palace in such a plight. But as they 
 passed the esplanade in front of the gates, Sir Philip 
 was recognized by an officer who was watching the 
 maneuvres of a company of guards in the Royal Square. 
 The officer immediately detected, and evidently guessed 
 the cause of, the disordered appearance of the party. 
 He hurried after them at once; and so warmly did he 
 press upon them the temporary use of his apartments, 
 which were within a short distance of the Chateau, that 
 Sir' Philip gratefully accepted his hospitality. An 
 equerry took charge of the horses, and the valets were 
 carried off by some of the servants at the stables to their 
 own quarters, and there left to themselves. 
 
 After these dispositions, Sir Philip, accompanied by 
 his tired companions, and almost sinking under fatigue,
 
 164 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 as well as acute physicial pain, entered the officer's 
 apartments. Here the court physician came to him, 
 sent, he said, by Mademoiselle Sainte Maur, with the 
 consent of the Queen, and with instructions not to 
 permit him to appear out of his chamber until he had 
 received proper treatment and obtained rest. Grateful 
 for this unlooked-for attention, Sir Philip still refused to 
 be " coddled," as he termed it, until he learned that the 
 approach of the Amazons was already known, and that 
 no danger to the inmates of the Chateau was possible. 
 Then he lay down, not to sleep, but to listen to the 
 coming of the mob. 
 
 He had not long to wait.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, amiable, if frivolous; beautiful and 
 imprudent; intelligent, graceful, affectionate; of noble 
 blood and bearing, was the invited guest of France. 
 France, styling itself the most chivalrous nation in 
 Europe, despising the simplicity of her nature, perse- 
 cuted her, then insulted her, and finally murdered her. 
 
 This unfortunate Queen had come to the artificial 
 Court of France a warm-hearted girl, with an innocent 
 disposition to avoid the strained and hypocritical usages 
 she found there, and with a precocious desire to reform 
 the Court itself. At once ingenuous and imprudent, she 
 was not long in committing errors of judgment which 
 were eagerly seized upon by the malignants who sur- 
 rounded her, as weapons with which to destroy her. 
 
 She saw so much that was stilted and ridiculous in 
 the manners of the ladies whose duties kept them near 
 her, that, until she became accustomed to the spectacle, 
 it excited in her the most intense amusement, which she 
 unguardedly permitted the grotesque performers to see. 
 She encouraged the younger and fresher spirits among 
 them to abandon many absurd traditions in habits and 
 dress; but the older dames resented these little innova- 
 tions as insults, and they began a system of repression 
 that soon grew to persecution. They set themselves to 
 work, as only women can, to make her unpopular with 
 the " people " (at that period bigoted, ignorant and 
 vicious,) and they were marvelously successful. Every 
 frivolous act, every harmless speech, was purposely 
 
 165
 
 l66 HELENE SAIXTK MAUR. 
 
 misrepresented or misconstrued, by the volatile but 
 envious parasites of the Court. In short, it was not 
 long ere the inconstant populace which had welcomed 
 her with groveling adulation and idiotic joy, began to 
 pelt her with epithets, and ended in gratifying their 
 insensate hate in her deliberate assassination. 
 
 The lofty position occupied by the Queen kept her 
 aloof fiom ordinary sympathy which every woman, no 
 matter what her degree, requires and isolated her from 
 all companionship, except that which she sought in 
 defiance of the pretended restrictions which her wigged 
 and painted advisers constantly cited to her. With the 
 exception of the Princess Lambelle (who subsequently 
 lost her own life in consequence of her devotion to her 
 royal mistress) and one or two others of rank sufficient 
 to justify her in having them near her, she counted but 
 few, indeed, in whom she could repose confidence, or 
 with whom she could even informally converse without 
 being subjected to the impudent espionage and sneers 
 of the paupers who swarmed about the Court. 
 
 Among the few friends that were left to her at this 
 eventful time was Helene Sainte Maur. The wealth, 
 beauty, mental gifts and patrician birth of our heroine 
 had kept the doors of the noblesse open to her, even 
 after they were closed to the noblest of those who were 
 of different political faith or purpose. The Queen, 
 therefore, had many opportunities to become familiar 
 with Helene's character; and the great contrast which 
 she observed between this beautiful woman's moral 
 nature and that of the women with whom she mingled 
 in the society of the Court drew the sovereign to the 
 subject, until a mutual attachment resulted; an attach- 
 ment as remarkable as it proved imperishable. 
 
 About a fortnight previous to the descent of the 
 Amazons upon Versailles, the Queen had extended an
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 1 67 
 
 invitation to Helene to spend a few weeks at the palace, 
 and Helene was still there. 
 
 The visit of Sir Philip Belmore to Versailles at this 
 time was on Helene's account particularly, although he 
 had often been a guest there before, and was on friendly 
 terms with Servan, then Governor of the Pages, and the 
 most powerful personage at the chateau, and also with 
 several others of the King's household. It was Helene's 
 presence in the palace, therefore, which had caused him so 
 much concern when he encountered the rabble and learned 
 the purpose of their descent upon the palace. After 
 that encounter and his escape he had felt doubly anxious 
 to see her; and if danger threatened her to share it with 
 her, if he could not avert it. Besides, he had determined 
 to plead with her, as he had plead with her before, to 
 leave Paris, to leave France. He was anxious, as were 
 his brothers, and as was Dumesnil, to depart from scenes 
 that were daily assuming a more alarming aspect; and 
 if he could induce Helene to forego her desire to remain 
 near the Queen, and remove for awhile to England, his 
 heart, he felt, would be lighter than it had ever been. 
 
 Upon communicating with the surgeon, whom 
 Helene had sent to him with the Queen's permission, 
 as soon as she had learned of his arrival and condi- 
 tion, he had received assurances, as we have seen, that 
 the mob was expected at the chateau, that no danger 
 had been anticipated, and that all necessary precau- 
 tions to prevent any had already been taken. It was 
 only another attempt, said the officer who had kindly 
 placed his rooms at Sir Philip's service, to force impos- 
 sible concessions from the King, another method of the 
 revolutionists to annoy the royal family. Hardly satis- 
 fied, from what he saw, that all this was true, he had 
 reluctantly yielded to the advice of the physician and 
 the urgent entreaties of his brothers, and had retired to
 
 1 68 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 a couch, after sending a message to Helene that she 
 should at once apprise him if she needed him, and exact- 
 ing a promise from his three companions that they would 
 not leave the palace during the remainder of the day. 
 
 Within an hour after these preliminaries, the mob 
 arrived. The van was composed entirely of women, hid- 
 eous, unkempt, haggard and fierce. At their head 
 marched twelve forlorn and famished creatures, led by 
 a red-faced and bulky woman, a butcher's wife, selected 
 for her brawn and boldness to lead this forlorn hope. 
 In the rear, straggling along in two meandering lines, 
 came several hundred boys and men, the refuse of the 
 sewer-hiding class, who halted near the esplanade, where 
 they gathered in groups to watch the movements of the 
 women, and encourage them with their cries and invect- 
 ives. 
 
 In the royal square the band of termagants came to 
 a halt. They were no longer vociferating, their hoarse 
 or shrill voices were subdued to a murmer. Then an 
 internal agitation of the mass, and out of its midst 
 stalked the thirteen the "committee " and its leader. 
 
 It may be said in parenthesis here that Louis XVI. 
 was no longer master at Versailles any more than he 
 was at Paris; otherwise, the disgraceful and humiliating 
 scenes that now transpired, and which were the mere 
 precursors of worse to follow, could never have occurred. 
 
 The iron palisades gaped before the invaders, offer- 
 ing an easy entrance, and no one was there to oppose 
 them. They passed on to the outer court, into the 
 second, now mounting the five steps that led to the 
 third, then up the broad marble staircase they clam- 
 bered, still unopposed, four abreast. At the landing 
 they turned toward the King's apartments, directed 
 thither by a National Guard. 
 
 The Guard was slinking away, when, repenting, per-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 169 
 
 haps, of his o\vn brutal perfidy, he turned and faced the 
 "committee." . 
 
 " What is it you want here, my friends?" asked he, in 
 a mild voice. 
 
 The butcher's wife turned upon him: 
 
 "What is it we want, eh?" screamed she, clawing 
 the air with her red fingers; " come, listen to this pretty 
 fellow, this flaneur who wears fine livery in the barracks 
 as well as on the boulevarts! Do you sae him? I warrant 
 you, now, he sups every Saturday night with Chopine." 
 
 Then, inflamed by these tantalizing reflections, 
 (for by " Chopine" she meant a female tippler, and she 
 herself was a lov'er of the bottle) she approached the 
 disconcerted soldier with arms akimbo, and vociferated 
 in his face: 
 
 " Peste, idiot! Do you think we would be out in the 
 rain, three leagues from an umbrella, if we had our 
 dinner in the cellar at home, or something better than 
 rainwater for soup and paving-stones for bread? You 
 crab! You you are lisse; you do not eat here you 
 devour; your teeth you do not use at all, and you do 
 not know truffles from meat. How many bottles of red 
 Frontinac have warmed your brains since yesterday, 
 tell me that?" 
 
 "Vache!" exclaimed the soldier, in a heat at this 
 tirade. 
 
 "What?" screamed the termagant, dartingher fist 
 at his face; "you call me a cow, do you you ass! Ah, 
 toad, let me hear you croak! " And before the unlucky 
 meddler could slip away, she had grasped him by the 
 throat, while the twelve closed in around him, uttering 
 encouraging cries. 
 
 " Now, let us hear you sing. We want the King, and 
 you tell us to go through that gallery and through a 
 hall, and so on. Look here, we are not fools; we do not
 
 170 HELEN-E SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 intend to be trapped like rats. We are in a hurry. We 
 have left our brats at home gnawing their thumbs, do 
 you hear?" 
 
 "Bread bread and rice!" wailed the "committee," 
 huddling around the leader. "Dame!" growled the 
 soldier, who had succeeded in freeing his throat from 
 the lusty virago's by no means gentle hands; "the King 
 does not keep a baker's shop." 
 
 " But he has the keys to them," retorted the woman; 
 and she stretched forth her hands to clutch the epau- 
 lette of the guardsman. But he had already edged 
 himself out of the group, and with a shrug of disgust 
 he incontinently retreated, leaving the'women to them- 
 selves. 
 
 Thus encouraged, they rushed into the "Hall of 
 Guards," tearing at the uniforms of the few gens d'armes 
 there; then into the King's public dining-room; then on 
 into the very bed chamber. 
 
 And here their rage found the very fuel that Dude- 
 vant's devilish intention had provided for it. 
 
 The great crimson velvet bed (upon which Louis the 
 Grand had reposed), with its rich embroidered damask, 
 stood behind the gilded balustrade where bishops had 
 leaned over expiring royalty, in a sumptuous alcove, 
 sacred to majesty. The sight of its stately magnificence 
 awed the invaders, but it frenzied them also. Never had 
 they been where royalty lodged till now, never till now 
 had they dreamed how royalty slept. It was a revela- 
 tion, and their rude minds, still bound by superstition 
 which held them back from profaning these inner pre- 
 cincts of royalty, flew to their own beds of straw rotting 
 in mouldy cellars, and they gnashed their teeth as they 
 looked. 
 
 But royalty's self was not there; and they scurried 
 like rats into the great gallery, the CEil de Bceuf, the
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 171 
 
 "Bull's Eye," that stateliest of halls, and there they 
 found him, this poor hunted King, cornered at last. 
 
 Royalty expected this unceremonious visit, and roy- 
 alty was urbane and gracious, in its miserable impo- 
 tency. Promises were offered in lieu of bread and rice 
 and meat; and, as these are easy enough to carry, the 
 twelve petitioners started briskly to return to their con- 
 stituents without. But the butcher's wife was not to be 
 thus cajoled. She stopped her too-confiding sisters with 
 a gesture of command, which they passively obeyed, 
 the hopeless expression which had a moment before left 
 their wan faces returning again to them. They were 
 so used to disappointments, these miserable creatures, 
 who had fulfilled too well that duty which afterwards 
 the great Bonaparte said was imperatively theirs to 
 bear children; and now they had nothing wherewith to 
 feed their offspring those voluntary offerings to France, 
 who was always calling for soldiers to keep alive its pre- 
 carious glory. 
 
 In silence these women waited, while the butcher's 
 wife, who had meat to eat, and was therefore more vig- 
 orous than they, turned upon the King her flaming eyes, 
 and, all unabashed by majesty, shrilled her protest: 
 
 " Sacre bleu! And do you think to feed us on noth- 
 ing better than tlmt ? We shall have bread, forsooth, 
 the charettes shall stop carrying aristocrats to the guil- 
 lotine, and their carrion from it, and shall load up with 
 bread and rice and meat, eh? To-morrow, do you say? 
 Oh, yes, to-morrow, that is the word. Ho, ho, do you 
 hear that, my children? Well, it is four good leagues to 
 Paris, and four more back to Versailles. That makes 
 eight, does it not? Enough, ^is it not, to wear our legs 
 to the stumps? And while we are tramping about, 
 par ci and par-la, and our young ones are eating mud, 
 you will fill the bellies of your cannon with round bis-
 
 172 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 cuit, and feed them to us across the Square out yonder 
 when we come back here. No, no, a million times no, I 
 tell you! We are tired, we are hungry, we want bread 
 to-day, to-day, do you understand?" 
 
 "Bread, bread, bread," chorused the twelve, in woful 
 concert. Then they began stamping their muddy feet 
 on the marble pavement. Hunger has reverence for 
 nothing, do you see? 
 
 The King was distressed. He looked around him, 
 as if seeking some one to whom he might refer this 
 insolent but formidable subject, who thus braved him 
 in his own palace. 
 
 Such an one was near at hand. 
 
 At the farther end of the gallery, listening, with 
 glowing cheeks and flashing eyes, to this humiliating 
 dialogue, stood the Queen and Helene Sainte Maur. 
 As the woman ended her speech, the sad eyes of the 
 King were turned toward his indignant consort, as she 
 stood immovable, except for the glancing of her eye as 
 it flitted from one to the other of the half dozen sullen 
 gens d'arms who had been sent into the gallery. 
 
 Suddenly, and without a word to the Queen, Hel- 
 ene left her side and advanced toward the leader of the 
 women. Beckoning the latter imperiously toward a 
 winclow opening on the long balcony, Helene stepped 
 out upon it, and a moment after the woman followed 
 her. 
 
 Several minutes elapsed, and the two had not 
 returned. The twelve grew restless, and whispered 
 together. Was that majestic woman who had taken 
 their leader away the Queen ? Ah, she appeared more 
 like a goddess, a celestial or a saint. She had given a 
 mute sign of command to the butcher's wife, who feared 
 nothing, but who had looked startled and confused, and 
 had obeyed without a question. They were becoming
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 173 
 
 uneasy. What was going to happen? What were they 
 to do without their chief ? 
 
 They had begun to raise their voices, they had 
 started toward the balcony windows, when the two 
 women, who belonged at the two extreme ends of the 
 social world, came in from the portico together. The 
 one calm and majestic and silent ; the other disturbed, 
 embarrassed, and respectful. 
 
 Without looking to right or left, tjie butcher's wife 
 made a sign to the twelve to follow her, and in silence 
 they crept out of the gallery.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MIRABEAU. 
 
 The surprise of the King, and the gratitude of the 
 Queen, when Helene composedly returned to the latter's 
 side, were profound and affecting. They did not ask 
 her how she had so mysteriously but summarily relieved 
 them of the marauding women; they only pressed her 
 hands in silence, and then they separated. 
 
 They did not know that another rabble was on its 
 way to Versailles, that it would soon be swarming over 
 the vast grounds of the royal seat, waiting for night to 
 settle down ere they came to squat at the gates of the 
 palace, to inundate the hall of the assembly itself. Ah, 
 if they had known! 
 
 While the chateau was being invaded by the delega- 
 tion of fish-women, Mirabeau was at Versailles, dining 
 with Servan, in the latter's apartments in the Petites 
 Ecuries. Servan was hostile to the Court party, 
 although in the King's household; while Mirabeau was 
 the friend of the Queen, and of the Monarchy. From 
 the windows of the chateau, opening on the Royal 
 Square, Mirabeau stood watching the approach of 
 the mob. He had heard nothing of the movement 
 previous to his arrival; and his business at Versailles was 
 with Servan, whom he employed often in the capacity 
 of a literary assistant. The noise had drawn him to the 
 windows, at the moment that a page from the Queen 
 brought him a sealed billet. Excusing himself, he 
 
 174
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 175 
 
 stepped into an ante-room and opened the message. It 
 was from Helene Sainte Maur, and read: 
 
 " The coming of the mob was anticipated. The Flan- 
 ders Regiment and the National Guards have been 
 ordered outside of the palace grounds; the cavalry and 
 infantry of the King's Guards are deploying in the 
 court yard and the smaller courts. No alarm is felt. 
 
 " I have information that the Jacobins are sending 
 another rabble; it will be here this evening. It is all 
 because of the banquet given on the.ist. to the officers 
 of the new (Flanders) regiment, by the officers of the 
 King's Bodyguards. I counselled against that affair, 
 but it was simply following a precedent, and the 
 authors of it insisted on giving the entertainment. It 
 has insulted the Jacobins, however, and there is excit- 
 ment in Paris, as you are well aware. You must go at 
 once to the Menus Plaisirs, and use your power to calm 
 the storm that is rising there in the Assembly. If the 
 rabble comes into collision with the Court and the Body- 
 guards, the result will be calamitous. Go, my friend; 
 there is little time, and it is precious." 
 
 With Mirabeau, Helene's influence was supreme ; 
 besides, he was deeply distressed at the news, some of 
 which had already reached him before her letter had 
 been delivered to him. He hurried to the Assembly. 
 
 When he entered the hall, his ears were greeted with 
 the sounds of babel. Uncouth sounds, issuing out of 
 the hoarse throats of boissardes, market porters, tramps 
 from the fields and outer boulevards, butchers and work- 
 men from St. Antoine and St. Marceau. 
 
 When the " committee " left the palace, they went off 
 in the direction of the Menus Plaisirs. They were all 
 empty-handed, except the butchers' wife, whose red 
 fingers clutched a scrap of paper which she protected
 
 176 HF.LENE SAIXTE MAUR. 
 
 from the rain by muffling it in her greasy and faded 
 shawl. 
 
 Mirabeau, when he entered the hall, saw nothing to 
 excite his immediate alarm, and went to his place, from 
 which he began to harangue the Assembly. The galler- 
 ies were crowded with the Paris mob of women. They 
 sent a wail down into the ears of the destroying angels 
 who sat below them: 
 
 " Bread! Bread!" 
 
 It was a doleful cry; it was a supplication and a 
 threat. The Assembly stirred uneasily. A gray-haired 
 assassin turned in his seat, and whispered to his col. 
 league: 
 
 "We must remove more Aristocrats." 
 
 In the murderers' dialect of the Assembly, to 
 "remove " was to guillotine. 
 
 Mirabeau pauses in his peroration, shakes his mane, 
 raises his senior's voice to a roar, and promises his 
 sisters everything. The dripping women become clac- 
 quers, this "little mother Mirabeau," is such a favorite 
 now with the people. But hunger, that crime-breeder, 
 is at their vitals again; and Mirabeau is a second time' 
 interrupted, and more sharply this time, because it is 
 Famine which speaks: 
 
 "Bread, bread, and less talk!" 
 
 This was practical, this was prosaic; but, as the 
 Assembly dealt only in metaphor and heads, it wisely 
 adjourned. 
 
 At the outer entrance stood the butcher's wife; and, 
 as Mirabeau passed out, his bloodshot eyes staring at 
 the western sun, whose rays at that moment were break- 
 ing through the clouds and gilding the front of the 
 house of blood and the house of God with the same 
 benign ray, the woman held out the scrap of paper. 
 Mirabeau read it, and his face became illumined. He
 
 HELENE SAINTE JUAUR. 177 
 
 whispered a word into the frowsy ear of the woman and' 
 hastened away; while she, still retaining the slip of 
 paper, returned with a look of triumph to the galleries 
 where her companions waited. 
 
 Then these women proceeded to hold a convention. 
 It was a conclave of the Furies. The butcher's wife 
 pounced upon the president's chair; and, as she settled 
 herself in it with a grotesque dignity, she shouted to 
 the conclave: 
 
 " Order, my children ! " 
 
 It was the first and the last time in her meagre life 
 that she was too feel the luxury of power; but she had 
 little time to enjoy it. She had said to her tatterdema- 
 lion convention, when they began to grow boisterous 
 like the Assembly: 
 
 "Wait, and you will see." 
 
 And the "convention" had come to order, and could 
 have taught the Assembly a lesson in decorum. 
 
 An hour passed; so did sundry resolutions, clothed 
 in language never heard in that hall before or after. At 
 the end of an hour Mirabeau re-appeared. Again he 
 whispered in the ear of the leader, and this time he gave 
 her some slips of paper; after which he went away, 
 smiling. 
 
 The butcher's wife abandoned the magisterial curule, 
 and hurried out of the hall. When she reached the 
 door, however, she stopped, turned back, and with the 
 air and voice of a mother to her brood, said: 
 
 "Do not stir! I will return." 
 
 The slips which she carried away were orders on the 
 bakers, the grocers, the butchers. Mirabeau had told 
 her where to present them, when he took from her the 
 paper she brought from the palace. 
 
 At the end of half an hour the curiosity of the women 
 had become almost unbearable; but they did not stir.
 
 178 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 At the end of an hour their leader returned, and found 
 them sitting where she had left them. 
 
 Then, dry groceries took the place of debate, provi- 
 sions the place of proclamations. Thus had the munifi- 
 cence of Helene Sainte Maur found its way to the 
 objects of her pity, through the heart of Mirabeau. 
 
 The provisions are brought in those tumbrils which 
 have so recently carried different fruit the fruit of the 
 Revolution, and which will carry it again to-morrow. 
 But hunger is not fastidious; it is the one thing that is 
 without sentiment. 
 
 The six hundred. are fed, and they tramp back to 
 Paris. On the way there they will meet another swarm 
 with faces set toward Versailles, who will not be so 
 easily appeased. 
 
 The butcher's consort went home with honors ; she 
 was now a leader in the dingy faubourg; and because of 
 this, Dudevant's stratagem was to prove his ruin. 
 
 She did not forget the fair-haired woman of the 
 palace, nor the giant leader of the Assembly. Hour 
 after hour she gossipped in her husband's shop, of the 
 angel with the golden hair like crinkled sunshine-- 
 and with a blow of the cleaver on the meat-block would 
 exclaim: 
 
 " Phew! There is but one woman and but one man in 
 all Paris! As for the rest 1'enfer! A French invitation to 
 migrate to sheol." 
 
 One afternoon a stranger came into the shop. He 
 approached her, and, regarding her attentively for a 
 moment, asked: 
 
 ' Are you Madame Cartouche ? " 
 
 "And who is, if I am not ? " retorted the woman, 
 eyeing him with evident disfavor. Then, as he did
 
 1IELENE SAINTE MAUR. 179 
 
 not immediately answer this dubious question, she 
 added: 
 
 " You do not wish to buy sausages, do.you ? Bah, I 
 am a fool; you belong to the aristocrats. Well, and 
 what do you want with the shop, eh ? What do you want 
 with Mother Cartouche ? Tell me that." 
 
 "I propose to do so," returned the stranger, taking 
 no notice of her raillery. "I have something to say to 
 you privately; something that you will be very much 
 interested to know. Can you take me to a room where 
 we will be alone ? " 
 
 "Oh," cried the beldame, bursting into a laugh, "I 
 am not afraid to be in a room with you alone; and, as 
 for Cartouche well, I manage Cartouche. Come." 
 
 Leading the way into a small sitting-room behind 
 the shop, she pointed to a seat, and, taking one herself, 
 folded her red arms and waited for him to begin. 
 
 "Bah! he is ugly," she said to herself; and aloud: 
 "Well, can you speak now?" 
 
 "You know a certain journalist by the name of Achille 
 Dudevant?" suggested the stranger, as though confident 
 of her reply. 
 
 Mother Cartouche, however, eyed him suspiciously. 
 
 "And if I should happen to know such a person?" 
 she demanded. 
 
 "Well, you do know him, "returned her visitor; "but 
 you do not know that you ought to hate him." 
 
 "And why should I hate him he is a good republi- 
 can and hates the aristocrats? And do you know why? 
 I will tell you. One of your fine marquises ran away 
 with his sweetheart and did not marry her; and when 
 Dudevant exposed him to his friends, and the little law- 
 yer Robespierre went to him and demanded that he 
 should do something to smooth matters, this fine noble- 
 man kicked the lawyer, and afterwards had Dudevant
 
 l8o HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 imprisoned for a month. Oh, that was before the times 
 changed, mind you. And I tell you that little Robes- 
 pierre did not forget that kick, either, and he was not 
 long about turning the Marquis out of France, after the 
 Assembly commenced to rule. So, you see, I know all 
 about this poor Dudevant." 
 
 Mother Cartouche's volubility had carried her 
 entirely away from the object of the interview ; and it 
 would be impossible to. say how long she would have 
 continued in this strain had not the stranger inter- 
 rupted her. 
 
 " Oh," said he, " I have heard all that, and much 
 more of the same kind. But what I wish to hear now 
 is this whether or not you have any reason to protect 
 this man Dudevant if he is arrested for a crime ? " 
 
 " Peste," cried the woman, " if you can not speak 
 out, go away." 
 
 "Very well; I will tell you that this Achille Dude- 
 vant one year ago perpetrated a terrible wrong upon 
 a certain relative of yours who was a servant of that 
 very Marquis whom you were talking about." 
 
 Mother Cartouche was stirred ; she began to feel 
 uneasy misgivings. There was in the stranger's man- 
 ner, as well as in his words, an ominous preparation. 
 
 " What do you mean? " she asked, all the asperity 
 gone from her voice, which was husky now. 
 
 "Your brother's name was Jean Beauchamp, and one 
 year ago he was the trusted and confidential servant of 
 the Marquis of B ." 
 
 " That is true," murmured the woman, in a voice 
 hardly audible. " Well, go on." 
 
 " It was Jean who attended to the Marquis' little 
 arrangements in his love affairs. Dudevant found out 
 that it was Jean who abducted the girl he was in love 
 with, for the benefit of the Marquis, and he swore he
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. l8l 
 
 would persecute the Marquis to the death, if he could; 
 and that Jean himself should die.'' 
 
 Mother Cartouche had risen from her chair, and 
 now stood leaning over the visitor who had come to 
 impart to her such fearful information, as though her 
 vengeance was about to fall upon him for unfolding it. 
 But when he paused an instant, she hissed out between 
 her shut teeth: 
 
 " Curse it, go on, I tell you ! " 
 
 "Three months afterward, your brother was executed 
 for the murder of a workman in the factory of the 
 brothers Thierry, Rue St. Antoine." 
 
 "Scelerat!" shouted the woman, shaking her 
 clenched fist over the speaker, while her small eyes 
 emitted sparks of fire, "is it this that you have come to 
 tell me ? Yes, my brother was executed, but he was 
 innocent." 
 
 " I believe it," assented her visitor with a peculiar 
 smile; "but do you know who caused his conviction?" 
 
 " What ! if I did, do you think he would be alive? 
 Do you know him ?" 
 
 "Yes. Read that." 
 
 He thrust a folded paper in her hand; and rising, 
 stood and watched her, as if he expected a terrible out- 
 burst. It soon came. Tearing open the paper, she read 
 it slowly aloud, word for word: 
 
 "This is to certify that on, etc., a sworn statement 
 was filed in the office of the Prefect of the Seine, on, 
 etc., by one Achille Dudevant, a journalist by profes- 
 sion, charging one Jean Beuchamp, residing in the Rue 
 St. Martin, at, etc., with having killed without justifi- 
 cation, in the presence of that affiant, a workman in the 
 employ, etc., by the name of Jacques Ledue, etc. That 
 upon the filing of said statement said Beauchamp was
 
 182 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 arrested; afterwards tried, convicted, and on, etc., exe- 
 cuted. That the only evidence not circumstantial was 
 that of said Dudevant." 
 
 This affidavit was duly signed and sworn to by a 
 sergeant de ville. 
 
 We can not describe the appearance of the butcher's 
 wife when she had finished reading this document. It 
 was that of a hyena robbed of its prey. For some min- 
 utes she indulged in the most frightful oaths; but the 
 spirit of vengeance was fully aroused in her vindictive 
 breast, as the man before her had intended it should be, 
 and it was not to be appeased by mere ebullitions of fury. 
 She soon succeeded in calming herself, and in a changed 
 tone demanded to know how best she could mete out to 
 her brother's " murderer " the full measurement of the 
 punishment he deserved. 
 
 "You wish him to die, do you not?" suggested the 
 unknown. 
 
 "Sacre, yes, he must die! " was the savage answer. 
 
 "Very well. You know that this man is a paid tool 
 of Robespierre, who would not willingly allow him to 
 be arrested or punished. Still, Robespierre has a 
 deadly fear of the mob, of the sans culottes. You will, 
 therefore, take this paper, which is proof against Dude- 
 vant of no matter what; and you will have the petition 
 at the end of the accusation signed by as many of the 
 people as yon can find to do so. You will have it here 
 to deliver to me at this hour on the day after to-morrow. 
 Then you will go with me to the National Assembly, 
 and there we will see Danton. Do you understand?" 
 
 '"' Sacre, yes, give it me." 
 
 Mother Cartouche snatched the roll out of his hands 
 with ferocious eagerness ; and the stranger without 
 further speech, walked briskly out of the shop.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 183 
 
 This man was D'Artivan. The Marquis of B 
 
 nad set him upon the track of more than one of his 
 enemies. Robespierre was one; and as he could not 
 yet reach Robespierre, he had begun with the underling 
 Dudevant who had really set Robespierre upon him.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BIVOUACKED IN THE ROYAL STABLES. 
 
 We left Sir Philip Belmore nursing his bruises in 
 an apartment of the officer of the King's Guard, and 
 straining an anxious ear in the direction of the Royal 
 Square. At the first sounds admonishing him of the 
 approach of the mob, he rose stiffly from his uneasy 
 couch and went to the window, which overlooked the 
 avenue leading into the square from the City. At the 
 left of the building in which he was lodf^d were the 
 palatial stables of the palace, one wing of which was 
 occupied entirely by the men employed there, as lodg- 
 ings. 
 
 Belmore's first thoughts, as he beheld the rabble 
 pouring into the esplanade, reverted to Helene. Where 
 was she ? In what part of the palace ? Was she in the 
 old palace or the new? If in the new, she would be 
 certain to come in contact with the miserable horde, and 
 share whatever abuse they had in store for the royal 
 family. As if to answer his thoughts and confirm his 
 fears, a page at that moment brought him a note from 
 Helene. 
 
 Belmore's paleness disappeared as he glanced at the 
 elegant superscription on the perfumed envelope which 
 was a part of the vellum itself, and bore her coat of 
 arms a mailed, gauntletted hand with the index finger 
 pointing upward. The letter was as follows: 
 
 " I thank you for your solicitude. There is no danger of a per- 
 sonal attack upon any one here, unless it should be invited by some 
 imprudent person, and that folly is not anticipated. You need not 
 
 184
 
 HELENE SAIXTE MAUR. 185 
 
 distress yourself, therefore, on my account; though again I thank 
 you. 
 
 " I am told that you had a terrible struggle with this same mob, 
 whom you passed on your way hither. You are also injured, 
 although no\ at all seriously, the physician tells me; and for this 
 also I am thankful. I am assured that you are receiving proper 
 care and attention. You need rest for a few hours, at least. 
 
 "And now, I intend to lay my serious commands upon you, and 
 you will not disregard them, I am sure. 
 
 " On no account must you or either of your party leave your 
 apartments while those wretched creatures are here. I warn you 
 that if you or either of the others who were engaged i-n that difficulty 
 are seen by the mob, it can not fail, as you must know, to provoke 
 an outbreak of the most violent character. The consequences could 
 hardly be foreseen. You had better keep together; and it would be 
 prudent, also, to retire to a place that is not likely to be visited by 
 the rabble. The most retired part of the stables would be the safest 
 from their observation, and at the same time the most comfortable, 
 since it is fitted up especially for lodging and dining room. In the 
 latter there will be room for all of your party ; and I will send a 
 servant to conduct you there immediately, if you assent. 
 
 " After the mob shall have left the town I will send a messenger 
 to you, informing you where you can then find me. In the mean- 
 time, I shall, of course, remain with the Queen." 
 
 "Tell Mademoiselle Sainte Maur that I will do 
 exactly as she directs," said Belmore, turning to the 
 waiting page. Then he re-perused the letter, feasting 
 his eyes upon the script which had come to him with 
 the scent of violets, traced by the fairest hand in all 
 France. Returning it to its folds, he placed it in the 
 pocket of his robe, and stood moodily gazing out of the 
 window at the coming multitude. -Along the broad 
 avenue they came, tramping in disorderly lines, hoot- 
 ing, shrieking, cursing, gesticulating, a veritable pro- 
 cession of the Demonai vomited out of hell. 
 
 There was a summons at his door, and as he turned 
 towards it his brothers and Dumesnil followed by a ser- 
 vant, entered.
 
 l86 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Dumesnil hurriedly accosted him : 
 
 "Mademoiselle has sent word to us," said he, anx- 
 iously regarding the approaching throng through the 
 window, ''that you required us instantly. ..What is 
 amiss?" 
 
 Sir Philip, understanding at once the meaning of the 
 peremptory message, pointed toward the rabble, and 
 handed Dumesnil the letter, which he read hurriedly. 
 
 "You see there is no time to spare," observed Sir 
 Philip. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, no," Dumesnil answered; then he added, 
 
 " On my soul, that woman is superb. Here were we, 
 four of us, and men at that, getting our swords sharpened, 
 as one might say, to take a hand in the fight we expected 
 would re-commence here. Asses! Yes, we were asses, 
 voila: Well, let us acknowledge Mademoiselle our 
 Captain, after that. And million thunders! We have 
 not one minute to lose, for the devils are inside the 
 gates." 
 
 The servant who had entered behind them now in- 
 formed them that he had been sent to conduct them to 
 the retreat selected for them. 
 
 "Come, then, gentlemen," said Sir Philip, quickly 
 resuming his coat; and leading the way out of the suite 
 in which he had been so comfortably domiciled, the ser- 
 vant was directed to take them at once to their rendez- 
 vous. 
 
 The three valets were overjoyed at the appearance 
 of their respective masters. Guppy's satisfaction was 
 extreme; his red lips were parted with an ineffably sweet 
 expression, his blue eyes were dancing like fire-flies, as 
 he hovered about Sir Philip. In his exuberance of 
 spirits he could not refrain from an occasional remark. 
 "Mr. Trotter, sir," he whispered to that individual, 
 who was busy in arranging comfortable seats, bringing
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 187 
 
 flagons of water, and providing sundry other comforts; 
 "Mr. Trotter, you 'ave not taken your name in wain, 
 sir." 
 
 "Ah 'ow's that, Mr. Guppy?" murmured Trotter, 
 dusting a deal bench with an enormous red cotton 'ker- 
 chief. 
 
 " Why," explained jeems, graciously, " you're a per- 
 ambulator of the first quality, that's wot you h'are." 
 
 Meanwhile, the distant sounds of commotion from 
 the Square reached our party, but faintly, and it seemed 
 as if they were to escape the notice of the marauders. 
 But in this they were partially disappointed. While the 
 "committee" of women were holding their strange audi- 
 ence with the King, some twelve or fifteen of the ruf- 
 fians who had accompanied them from Paris were prowl- 
 ing around the stablemen's quarters. Led on by the 
 hope of finding something to purloin, they entered the 
 long corridor or passage, on one side of which was situ- 
 ated the room in which Sir Philip and his party were 
 gathered. The end of this corridor was a blank wall; 
 but extending across it was a transverse passage some 
 fifteen or twenty feet deep, on either side, at the respective 
 ends, of which were two very high and narrow windows, 
 that were there only for the purpose of giving light and 
 ventilation. There was, therefore, absolutely no outlet 
 from the corridor except the front entrance. The trans- 
 verse passage thus formed a cul de sac. 
 
 The door opening from the corridor into the room 
 occupied by the visitors, as well as the outer door was 
 unbolted, and as the last of the stragglers entered the 
 corridor he pushed it open a few inches and stared 
 into the apartment. 
 
 Only one of the inmates observed him, his move- 
 ments having been too quiet and stealthy to have dis- 
 turbed any one. But Guppy's quick eyes, alert as
 
 l88 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 usual, had caught a glimpse of the man's face as it was 
 thrust through the opening, and although it was hastily 
 withdrawn, the valet recognized it as that of one of the 
 miscreants -who had attacked him when he went to his 
 master's aid, and whom he had knocked down. Saying 
 nothing to the rest, he walked briskly to the door and 
 passing through it closed it noiselessly after him. The 
 man's glance, as he peered into the room, had rested 
 upon Sir Philip's face with a startled look, and it was 
 evident that it had been recognized and that in a feu- 
 minutes the whole gang of marauders would swarm in 
 upon the little party and annihilate it. unless something 
 were done, and that speedily, to prevent an alarm being 
 given them. 
 
 Guppy was the author of a very sensible precept, 
 which he also followed: "Wothever you do, let your 
 'ead, 'ands, hand 'eels work all at once, h'and to- 
 gether." 
 
 The moment of all others to demonstrate the wis- 
 dom of this advice was certainly at hand, and Guppy 
 knew it. As he passed into the corridor the last of the 
 marauders the man who had looked into the room- 
 was disappearing at the end of the corridor into the 
 transverse passage, from which a chorus of hoarse 
 voices proceeded. Evidently, thought Guppy, there 
 are a lot of the vagabonds in there, and this one is 
 going to tell them of his discovery, hoping to mass them 
 in front of the door of the room which they could then 
 very easily convert into a slaughter pen, since there was 
 but one means of egress, and it would be the work of a 
 minute or two to summon the whole rabble to assist in 
 butchering the victims. 
 
 Guppy's resolution was instantly taken. He slipped 
 quietly back to his companions, and, motioning them to 
 listen and observe silence, told them in a few words all
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 189 
 
 that he had seen, and suggested what should be done. 
 He had noticed the blind passage when he first came 
 into the building, and his hope was that the ruffians 
 themselves might be trapped. 
 
 After a rapid consultation Sir Philip said: 
 
 " My friends, there must be no mistake of judgment 
 in what we "undertake to do; and there must be perfect 
 concert of movement. This is. our plan: When we 
 issue into the corridor, Guppy will spring to the outer 
 door and bolt it, so as to prevent the entrance of any 
 one from the outside. Then we will rush in a body, 
 with drawn swords and whips, to the rear of the corri- 
 dor, thus closing the mouth of the cross-way, and hold- 
 ing the gang ia a cul de sac. If they attempt to force 
 their passage out we must cut them down; but if they 
 do not, and offer to give no alarm, we will hold them 
 there until the body of the mob has left Versailles." 
 
 This plan was rapidly rehearsed while the party were 
 preparing for the attack ; and Guppy, meantime, hav- 
 ing found several forks in the tool chest of the closet 
 opening into the apartment, the seven men, armed with 
 swords and forks, dashed out of the room, three abreast 
 (Guppy having darted to the front entrance to secure 
 it), and rushed toward the blind passage. 
 
 Meantime, as if to favor this precarious plan, the spy 
 had gathered his companions in one end of the cul de 
 sac, where in excited whispers he had told them of his 
 discovery. He was proceeding to offer his leadership 
 in securing or massacring the strangers, when there 
 came a rush of feet, and, as they turned in dismay a 
 wall had risen up across the mouth of the corridor, 
 bristling with weapons, blazing with eyes. Before a 
 hand was raised, a voice which caused them to tremble 
 broke upon them like thunder in a cavern:
 
 IQO HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " Silence among you! If you speak, if you move, we 
 will fall upon you and cut you to pieces? " 
 
 The gang neither spoke nor moved for the space of 
 a minute; they were amazed, they were terrorized. And 
 certainly they had nothing to hope for, should they 
 attempt an assault and fail. Those stern faces looking 
 down on them as they sat huddled there at the end of 
 the treacherous passage gave them only the promise of 
 death, even if they confined themselves to shouting an 
 alarm to their distant confederates. 
 
 But there was one man among them who was about 
 to earn the name of madman. He was a vigorous fel- 
 low, about the size and weight of Guppy, of muscular 
 appearance and build, with fiery hair and beard, and 
 with wildly glancing eyes of a pale gray. 
 
 Rising from the midst of his companions, as he mut- 
 tered an imprecation, he deliberately advanced toward 
 the mouth of the trap. When within a few feet of the 
 menacing weapons, he turned his head backward, and 
 shouted: 
 
 "Come on, let us tear the hearts out of the dogs!" 
 
 This bold movement and speech had upon the others 
 the effect of an electric shock. They scrambled to 
 their feet, braced themselves for a rush, and several of 
 them displayed knives, which they brandished fiercely, 
 glowering threateningly as they bega~n to creep forward. 
 
 The two parties that now confronted each other, 
 although utterly dissimilar in character and appearance, 
 as well as purpose, were in equal peril. An outcry by 
 the one, if heard by the insurgents in the esplanade yon- 
 der, would bring certain destruction to the other. But 
 such an outcry, or an attack by the gang, penned as they 
 were in the narrow passage, and with no weapons but 
 their short knives, would surely end in the slaughter of
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 191 
 
 most of them before their accomplices could come to 
 their rescue. 
 
 Equally imbued with this terrible knowledge, both 
 parties hesitated, the one to press in upon the gang, the 
 other to attack and to raise the alarm. 
 
 The self-appointed leader grew impatient; his pale 
 eyes rolled with an insane frenzy. 
 
 "Come, cowards! " cried he, hoarse from excitement 
 and rage; "let us beat down these enemies of the people, 
 and deliver them to the women!" 
 
 The band, fifteen in number, gathered themselves for 
 a rush. The next instant they would have hurled them- 
 selves upon their besiegers; but before any one could 
 divine his intention, Dumesnil pushed his way through 
 the cordon, and with two strides was at the side of the 
 leader of the rioters. Then the latter, looking upward 
 in amazement at the gigantic figure towering over him, 
 felt himself lifted as the hurricane would lift a sapling; 
 his breast was crushed against that of his assailant, till 
 there was not breath enough left in it for a cry; then he 
 was shot out from the mighty arms as though from a 
 catapult, and headlong into the midst of the group he 
 had fired by his bravado. The force with which he was 
 hurled was fearful, as, indeed, were the consequences. 
 Every portion of his own body seemed to strike the 
 body of another of the appalled wretches who stood 
 huddled at the end of the way; and while those who 
 were thus struck fell stunned or crippled, the hapless 
 leader himself dropped upon the pavement, a shape- 
 less, broken mass. 
 
 It was not any longer necessary to threaten death to 
 
 the cowering band in the cul de sac. Except for a groan 
 
 or a stifled cry at intervals from those who were injured, 
 
 no sound but their labored breathing was now heard. 
 
 To those who held them prisoners, and who stood
 
 Ip2 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 there on guard over them, the moments were hours. To 
 their listening ears came the distant and confused sounds 
 made by the mob as they hovered about the palace gates! 
 but these sounds gave no report of what was transpiring 
 in the chateau itself. There was no means of knowing 
 how soon the mob would leave, or whether it might not 
 visit the stables themselves. 
 
 At last, however, there was absolute silence without, 
 and Guppy was sent to reconnoiter. He returned in 
 the course of a quarter of an hour with the gratifying 
 news that the mob had retired without attempting any 
 mischief, and that there was no longer any necessity for 
 concealment. A sort of court-martial was then held, 
 and finally it was decided that the prisoners should be 
 allowed to go out of the town. They were accordingly 
 set free, and went forth without an escort, in silence, 
 and with scowls which they did not attempt to conceal. 
 
 On returning to the palace, Sir Philip found a billet 
 awaiting him from Helene. It briefly read : 
 
 "Come to the CEil de Bceuf."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN THE CEIL DE BCEUF. 
 
 V. 
 
 Paris, on the 5th of October, 1789, belonged bodily 
 to the Commune the Commune which had cursed and 
 overthrown the monarchy, in effect as it was to dis- 
 cover later "because the monarchy was tyrannous and 
 oppressive," proved a greater tyrant itself a tyrant 
 with neither reason, excuse nor mercy. It was a wild 
 beast let loose on helpless society, rampant, raging, 
 devouring, insatiable. 
 
 Incapable of overpowering it, helpless to defend 
 themselves against it, the nobles of France had aban- 
 doned hope and prepared for flight. Hundreds of them 
 had left Paris, hundreds more were leaving, with thou- 
 sands of the aristocratic class for company. Most of 
 them fled to Germany and England, and others still 
 were ready to follow their example. 
 Helene Sainte Maur had remained. 
 Twice Sir Philip had implored her to go, but she 
 had sternly refused. Her motive, she said, was that 
 feeling of friendship and duty which kept her at the 
 Queen's side. The falling fortunes of her unhappy sov-" 
 ereign, instead of alienating her, as it had so many of 
 her professed friends, had created a stronger tie for her, 
 and she would not desert her. 
 
 Sir Philip's brothers and the brave Dumesnil had 
 counseled him to go, and confessed that they themselves 
 desired earnestly to leave the stricken capital, and pro- 
 posed to do so as soon as he consented to go with them. 
 
 193
 
 194 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 But Sir Philip had twice declared his determination to 
 remain, even in the face of any danger that could possi- 
 bly threaten, so long as the woman he worshiped con- 
 tinued to stay. He urged them to go without him, but 
 to this they refused to listen; they must all depart or all 
 remain together. 
 
 In fact, nothing could surpass the noble unselfishness 
 of these four brave men, one of whom thus refused to 
 abandon a woman, and the others to abandon a com- 
 rade, on the threshhold of mortal perils which they 
 believed impended over them if they remained. 
 
 The three valets had been offered liberty to return to 
 England, with promises that their wages would still be 
 regularly paid them; but they were greviously hurt by 
 the mere proposition, and avowed their intention not to 
 budge an inch without their masters. 
 
 Even Clarise, to whom her mistress had offered pas- 
 sage to England, with a handsome douceur, had emphat- 
 ically declined. 
 
 Thus there was, in effect, an unspoken but irrevo- 
 cable compact between these heroic characters which 
 bound them together as participants in the most san- 
 guinary tragedy that has ever been exhibited upon the 
 world's stage. 
 
 Sir Philip had, however, determined, as we have 
 already intimated, to once more urge Helene to recede 
 from her stern and heroic resolution; and his visit to 
 Versailles was partly induced by this motive. 
 
 It was with an almost tremulous eagerness that he 
 now entered the magnificent "oval salon " or great gal- 
 lery of the Palace, to which he had been directed to 
 come by the note he had received from Helene. 
 
 This immense gallery was constructed so as to give 
 a perfect view of the exquisite gardens of the chateau. 
 Seventeen lofty windows faced them and opened upon
 
 HELENF. SAINTE MAUR. IQ5 
 
 a balcony three hundred feet long and supported by 
 stately pillars, vvitha pavement of marble. The interior 
 wall of the hall, opposite the windows, was formed by 
 seventeen arches with panels of pier-glass, and of the 
 same proportions as the windows. Twenty-four ele- 
 gant pilasters extended between the arches and the 
 windows. At the farther end of this splendid gallery 
 was a group of rare and antique statues, among them 
 that of Bacchus, Germanicus and Diana. This last 
 mentioned statue was famed for the remarkable resem- 
 blance between it and Helene Sainte Maur, to which we 
 have already made reference. Singularly, Sir Philip 
 had never observed it before; but now, as he saw Helene 
 standing near the statue, where she had been waiting 
 for him, he suddenly stopped and stared at these two 
 figures, the one rigid, white and icy; the other with her 
 fair arm leaning on the marble neck, glowing, pulsing, 
 warm with life, an incarnation of the sylvan goddess. 
 
 Helene saw the wondering expression in his eyes and 
 came toward him with a smile. 
 
 " Ah, you are very welcome," she said, extending 
 her hand to him with inimitable grace; " especially since 
 our recent guests were such unpleasant ones. And so 
 you, too, have been tasting some of the bitter which 
 even our Paris offers with its sweets?" she continued, as 
 she led him to one of the casements. 
 
 "Yes," responded Belmore, the rich and flexible 
 tones of his voice a little shaken as he looked upon her. 
 " But it is sweet indeed to find you here in security, after 
 that fierce invasion. And your ancestress there," point- 
 ing to the statue, "for ancestress she must have been, 
 has doubtless had something to do with your safety." 
 
 " Oh, I see that you are not to be convinced, 
 although I have insisted that there was no possible dan- 
 ger here from the poor creatures. But," she observed,
 
 196 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 reflectively, " perhaps I may need her protection in very, 
 earnest, soon." 
 
 "How?" ejaculated Sir Philip, starting violently at 
 these ominous words. " What is it you fear ? " 
 
 Helene raised her eyes slowly to his with a mournful 
 expression in their dark depths that to him presaged 
 worse evils than her tongue could have recounted. But 
 her voice, as mournful as her eyes, had no tremor of fear 
 in it as she answered him : 
 
 "My friend, do you know what it is that the mob of 
 women and idle men represent? Well, it is that unrea- 
 oningand terrible multitude that calls itself ' the people.' 
 France is approaching a frightful crisis. It has no 
 resources, it is bankrupt at last. It can not feed the 
 starving. Famine may be borne with resignation, with 
 fortitude, when inflicted by the omnipotent; but when 
 it comes through the sole agency of a debauched and 
 profligate class who feast in the midst of want and riot 
 in the sight of the public miser" it is the inevitable fore- 
 runner of horrors." 
 
 Amazed at such utterances, and at the preternatur- 
 alness of her manner, Belmore recoiled for a moment. 
 Then he asked, huskily: 
 
 " Is it possible that you can think this? Do you 
 believe that France is threatened with anarchy?" 
 
 "Yes!" The voice was passionless. It might have 
 been the oracle whose likeness she bore, so inexorable 
 she appeared who uttered that fiat. 
 
 "But surely there are no visible signs of such an 
 awful catastrophe," said Sir Philip, his heart belying the 
 words. 
 
 "No visible signs?" responded Helene, with a flash 
 almost contemptuous. Then, with a compassionate ges- 
 ture, she said:
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 197 
 
 "Poor France! She is in night. And for her there 
 is no prophet." 
 
 For several minutes there was silence between the 
 two. Then, waking from reflections that were plainly 
 torturing him, Belmore asked, hesitatingly: 
 
 " And if these evils come you will not stay in Paris, 
 in France?" 
 
 The fair face flushed; the eyes grew resplendent with 
 alight he had never yet seen there till now ; it seemed 
 to him to illumine her soul for an instant, that he might 
 behold the majesty of it. 
 
 " You have said that Pans is no place for women now. 
 I have not answered that before, but I will answer it 
 now. I grant the truth of it, if you mean women who 
 are mere butterflies or drudges. For women of another 
 kind there will soon be duties here as imperative as they 
 are stern and hard to perform. It matters not how 
 much fortitude and heroism will be required or demanded, 
 women will be found here who possess it. No, I shall 
 not leave Paris. I am the friend of the Queen, of the 
 woman who has harmed no one, and whom my gallant 
 countrymen, finding defenseless, dare to persecute and 
 insult. Well, after a little while they will do .more 
 but I am not here to utter prophecies to you. I will 
 not tell you of the fearful visions that have appalled me. 
 Let it be enough to say now that I believe they shadow 
 realities that are close behind them." 
 
 "And with such premonitions you oersist in staying 
 here?" 
 
 Belmore asked this question with asperity. He knew 
 quite well what would be her reply. 
 
 " Terrible as those realities may be, I remain to con- 
 front them with her." 
 
 Helene pointed with her open palm toward the apart- 
 ment of the Queen; and, as Belmore looked at the
 
 198 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 diminutive hand, white, blue-veined and tender as a 
 child's, he wondered; in the white bosom of this woman 
 beat the heart of a knight. At the end of a minute of 
 moody silence, he asked: 
 
 "And if the Queen could be persuaded to leave 
 France, would you depart with her? " 
 
 Helene started violently, as if his 'question offered 
 something after which she had been groping. In her 
 eyes was a counter-question, as she turned them full 
 upon him and answered: 
 
 "I would depart with her perhaps." 
 
 "Perhaps! After the Queen, could there be any 
 inducement to keep you longer here?" 
 
 Belmore spoke with painful eagerness. He was 
 already fully infected with her fears; he could already 
 conjure scenes that were horrifying, in the midst of 
 which Helene stood, moved, and shared them, always in 
 peril of her life. 
 
 " Probably not," was the slow answer. But even 
 while his hopes were rising, she sent them for the 
 instant toppling into ruins. "The Queen, however, will 
 not put faith in my warnings. She will be convinced 
 only when they are verified- or when it will at least be 
 too late." 
 
 "And your own resolve, can nothing change it?" 
 
 His eyes and voice betrayed the infinite sadness of 
 his soul, and the utter impotence of his will. 
 
 "Nothing can change it," she answered, gently. She 
 was regarding him curiously, as he stood with drooping 
 head before her, his arms folded tightly over his breast 
 as though to still the tumult in his heart. 
 
 He was not conscious of the look that rested upon, nay, 
 the look that caressed, him. There was, nevertheless, 
 a revelation in her eyes that had he seen it would 
 have made his heart leap. But it passed before he lifted
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 199 
 
 his head. Then she laid her hand upon his sleeve, 
 and he felt it vibrate even through that thick covering, 
 while she in her turn questioned: 
 
 "Tell me of your own plans? There can be no sensi- 
 ble excuse for you to remain here. You came here in 
 search of pleasure." 
 
 "And remain to fulfill a duty." 
 
 He had stopped her with a gesture full of sternness, 
 with a look full of dignity; and she was neither sur- 
 prised nor offended. A rose-flush came into her cheeks, 
 and a light like that which sudden happiness quick- 
 ens dwelt in her eyes for a second ere she could veil 
 them. The white lids were lowered, the silken lashes 
 hid the opaline rays as they died. He had seen neither 
 the red flush nor the furtive light, and she was grate- 
 ful. Driving back the thoughts that for that little but 
 eventful interval had possessed her, she raised her eyes 
 to his again, and now they were calm and reposeful. 
 His grave voice had not halted; and as it fell upon her 
 ear with a cadenced melody she had but just now dis- 
 covered, it told her that his resolve, also, had been 
 taken. He would remain; and, if she permitted it, 
 would share her duties as he intended to share her 
 peril. 
 
 Helene reflected; she was reviewing all that he had 
 said. Her decision was not hasty, but it was prompt and 
 final: 
 
 "So be it. There is much that you can do here, 
 perhaps, in aid of the Queen, and I have not the right 
 to deprive her of such services. And since you know 
 that for her sake alone I stay, know also that in aiding 
 her you place me under obligations. Still, I would not 
 urge you to remain here. Indeed, I try to feel regret 
 over your decision; but since you have so determined, 
 I confess to you that I am both pleased and gratified."
 
 200 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Belmore seized the hand she extended to him and 
 pressed it to his lips. In spite of his mournful forebod- 
 ings, of his intense anxieties, he experienced a sober joy 
 as he felt that he and she were to be drawn closer 
 together by the very circumstances which caused his 
 distress and excited his fears. 
 
 After another interval of silence, during which each 
 occupied the thoughts of the other, Helene stirred out 
 of her reverie, with a faint sigh that was not one of pain. 
 
 "I fear I must say adieu to you now/' she said ; and 
 there was a peculiar gentleness in her voice and manner 
 that thrilled him. " The Queen," who knows that I 
 came here to meet you, expected me to return to her as 
 soon as I could do so. She is suffering from this new 
 shock and needs me. You return to Paris at once, do 
 you not?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, as they walked slowly toward the 
 great entrance that entrance which in a few hours 
 more would be besieged by that very multitude she had 
 just described. There they parted for the last time on 
 that threshhold which royalty was soon to cross for the 
 last time also. Even her prescient mind gave her no 
 glimpse of the tragedy of the morrow, as she stood 
 there in all her regal beauty, peacefully smiling into the 
 face of her departing knight.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE SIXTH OF OCTOBER. 
 
 The entertainment given at Versailles on the ist of 
 October brought unhappy results, as Helene had pre- 
 dicted. The fete was brilliant and fatal. In their 
 enthusiasm and zeal the young nobles had pledged 
 their honor, their swords and their lives to the King; 
 and for awhile the royal family appeared in a box of 
 the little theatre where the fete was given. These inci- 
 dents were so distorted by the time they reached the 
 City of Gossip as to be merely monstrous falsehoods. 
 
 The " people " were aroused; the Assembly denounced 
 to them the Court and King as traitors. The Tiers- 
 Etats sent out their secret emissaries to fire the black 
 hearts of the mob that lay in waiting always in wait- 
 ing in the six converging alleys of the Faubourg St. 
 Antoine. Each day the rabble grew fiercer, until the 
 afternoon of the fifth, when it culminated. 
 
 Then, hurling its foul baths at the terrible God who 
 was later to visit His vengeance upon them, the insur- 
 gents tramped to Versailles, meeting on the way those 
 who were returning, and forcing many of them to go 
 back. 
 
 At Versailles, no adequate preparation for defense 
 had been made. The most accessible portio n of the 
 palace was left absolutely free to the invaders. The 
 Sates were flung open at dawn of the morning of the 
 memorable sixth, and with the howls of jungle-beasts 
 
 insurgents forced their way into the palace, 
 aoi
 
 2O2 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Then the scenes that gave the lie to French man- 
 hood were frightful. The few who proved the truth of 
 "chivalry" were massacred by the thousands who 
 proved the universal lust of blood. From hall to hall 
 the body-guards were pursued, hunted, cut down, butch- 
 ered. Tumult without, pandemonium within. The 
 Queen awoke from a troubled dream; listened in alarm 
 to the rush of feet as the mob approached her door. 
 
 She springs from her bed, and, holding on to the 
 carved post, waits, expecting the worst. But a nearer 
 and a swifter step than the merciless mob's comes to 
 her straining ear, and then the door of her chamber 
 flies open, and Helene Sainte Maur rushes to her bed- 
 side. The Queen stretches out her hand. 
 
 " Helene! " she murmers; and reeling with a moment- 
 ary faintness she leans heavily upon the bosom of her 
 friend. 
 
 "Compose yourself, Madam," exclaimed the latter, 
 supporting the swaying form of the Queen with a hand 
 as firm as though it had been of iron. 
 
 "But, my children?" murmured the Queen, faintly. 
 
 " They are with the King now; they have just been 
 sent to him," replied Helene, bending like a protecting 
 goddess over the drooping form. The disheveled hair 
 falls like a veil of crinkled sunshine around her fair head; 
 her eyes are like the sun itself when set in a tropic sky 
 of azure; her face, in all its wondrous outlines, is calm 
 as that of the marble Diana, and she does not belie her 
 wonderful resemblance. 
 
 "Fly, Madame!" rings out from her lips like the 
 tones of a silver trumpet. At the instant she utters 
 this warning the Queen's maids enter, lamenting, dis- 
 mayed, bewildered. Helene seizes a robe, throws it 
 over the bare white shoulders of the Queen, and directs 
 the maids, whom she has calmed with a word, to bear
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 2OJ 
 
 their mistress to the King's apartment. Then, as the 
 assassins burst into the room, she turns upon them and 
 spreads out her arms before them. They hesitate, only 
 for a moment; but that moment is longer than enough; 
 the Queen has been hurried out of the chamber; and 
 five of the Swiss Guards have pressed around the intrepid 
 woman who holds the entrance. Inspired by a glance, 
 a word, and the courage they see in that delicate form, 
 they escort her, with bristling bayonets, to the room 
 where the Queen waits. And there they turn again, a 
 quincunx of breathing statues. 
 
 Hark! the sound, a score of tirres repeated, of the 
 axes of the mob at the door of tne CEil de Boeuf star- 
 tles them; minutes are eternities. But, before the thun- 
 ders cease, a band of Grenadieurs enters, sent by 
 Lafayette, the commander-in-chief. They join the 
 Guards, and with leveled bayonets together they clear 
 the palace. 
 
 There is a lull within. Then there comes from with- 
 out a cry which reaches the royal ears with a doubtful 
 meaning: 
 
 "The King! Let us see the King! " 
 
 The King hurries out upon the balcony; and the 
 Queen and Helene follow. 
 
 And now there is enacted one of those amazing 
 scenes which never occur except in a riot in Paris. 
 
 Without knowing why, King and Queen, Body- 
 Guards and National Guards, the nobles and the "peo- 
 ple " all are frantically waving the tri-color. 
 
 That is the guerdon of peace, is it not? 
 
 Trust no sign, it is fallacious; believe no assevera- 
 tion, it is a caprice. The drift of the wind, the temper 
 of a woman, the disposition of a French mob are " sub- 
 ject to change" at any moment. 
 
 A voice rises out of the midst of the throng. It is
 
 2O4 HELENE SAJNTE MAUR. 
 
 sinister and familiar; it is the voice of the journalist 
 Dudevant. It falls like a knell upon the ears of smiling 
 royalty: 
 
 "LeRoi a Paris!" 
 
 A whisper of dismay ripples along the balcony, flits 
 through the halls, penetrates the chambers and fills the 
 chateau with an ominous, a dreadful echo: 
 
 "The King to Paris?" 
 
 Yes; and for the last time forever. At the command 
 of a mob royalty must abandon Versailles. 
 
 Poor Louis ! With butchers and market-porters, 
 with fish-women and those reeking chiffoniers whose 
 garments reeked with the filth of the St. Denis sewer- 
 main, with vagrants and thieves, he trudged on to Paris. 
 These were his escort, and they guarded him and his 
 with eyes of hawks, as they swarmed around his coach. 
 
 Thus he was dragged to Paris, he and his Queen. 
 Thus he was dragged to the town-hall, placed upon a 
 balcony, and, with a tri-color pinned to his hat, exhibited 
 to the gaping, leering vagabonds who shielded their 
 crimes under the name of ''Republican." But the exhi- 
 bition was too tame, and the mob clamored: 
 
 " Put the bonnet-rouge on him, la ! " 
 
 The hat was removed, and the red cap of the Com- 
 mune perched upon the bowed head of the descendant 
 of St. Louis, who obeyed even this indignity with a 
 smile. This sovereign was not a physical coward; but 
 we repeat it, he was a poltroon. 
 
 The sight of this ignominy appeased the rabble, as 
 does a full meal a glutton for a day. 
 
 That night saw the royal family domiciled that is to 
 say, imprisoned in the Tuilleries. There they were to 
 languish until humanity should prove again how abso- 
 lutely inhuman it may be. 
 
 Within ten days after this ignoble display the pop-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 205 
 
 ulace was again raging. Now, the " people " were no 
 longer mere savages; they were wild beasts stripped of 
 everything human except its shape, demons of Hell, and 
 Hell was Paris. 
 
 The slaughter of the innocents had now begun in 
 earnest. Whoever stood forth for law and order, who^ 
 ever bespoke mercy for others, whoever refused to 
 mouth the miserable cant of the day was a " suspect/' an 
 aristocrat, a " traitor " to the people, and stood forth 
 doomed. 
 
 The life of the Queen, immured in the Tuilleries 
 and subjected to unremitting torture through the con- 
 stant espionage and restraints imposed upon her, was 
 even more unhappy that it had been at the Palace of 
 Versailles. She was now in constant dread of coming 
 evils presaged by those around her who desired her to 
 hear their cruel surmises. For herself she had almost 
 ceased to think. Her face had long since lost its 
 insouciant expression, and pale and careworn it appeared 
 day after day, as she stood looking mournfully out upon 
 the gardens where she had held so many brilliant lawn 
 fetes before her fickle people had tired of her. She was 
 almost always silent; and a smile never brightened her 
 face. 
 
 Helene, through the influence of Mirabeau, and of 
 another at a later period, of whom we shall yet speak, 
 was never interfered with in her daily visits, and these 
 visits were positively the only solace the keepers of the 
 Queen permitted her. 
 
 Thus passed the slow revolving months, each one 
 bringing the doomed woman nearer to the guillotine. 
 Neither she nor Helene, however, had the remotest 
 notion that her feet were drifting toward so fearful a 
 goal; and Helene was not without hope, secretly felt 
 as yet that she could bring the Queen to consent to
 
 2O6 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 escape from France. Meantime, it was necessary that 
 she should continue to receive, to fete, to banquet, those 
 who held the reins of the government such as it was, 
 or who were the first receptacles of the secrets of the 
 Commune and the Girondists. Accordingly, she made 
 no change in her social forms, but kept her spacious 
 chateau filled with the 'elite of Paris, though necessa- 
 rily interspersed with a few rising parvenus like Dan- 
 ton, a great, hulking young lawyer who was already 
 climbing toward the summit, albeit on the backs of the 
 fallen great. He was a frequent visitor at the famous 
 house in St. ' Germain, where his coarse features and 
 hoarse voice made him conspicuous among those who 
 tolerated because they feared him. Toward Helene he 
 had very soon manifested a depth of feeling which gave 
 her a certain ascendency over him, and at a later time 
 doubtless saved her from being carried down to death 
 with the Queen. 
 
 Sir Philip had become the constant and recognized 
 attendant of Helene. She freely called upon him for 
 whatever service she desired him to perform or consid- 
 ered it safe for him to undertake, and he obeyed with an 
 eagerness that proved how fervid was his interest in 
 serving her. Withal, he was never intrusive, \vaiting 
 for a signal or invitation before seeking her ; a delicacy 
 of feeling prompting him to sacrifice his own ardent 
 wishes to her convenience and inclination. But he was 
 quite as prompt to avail himself of chance interviews; 
 and there were moments, even in the midst of a throng, 
 when he found opportunities to lead her to some out-of- 
 the-way corner, or into some quiet spot in the garden ; 
 and these moments were to him of inestimable value. 
 To her, also, they were comforting and restful. Then all 
 the vivacity that seemed inexhaustible w r hile she was 
 surrounded by crowds of people left her, fell from her
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 207 
 
 as a mask whose uses are suspended. She became sub- 
 dued, almost melancholy ; and at such times Belmore 
 felt himself more than repaid for his hours and days of 
 waiting and longing. Her conversation, when they 
 were thus alone together, breathed a nobility of soul, a 
 majesty of thought, a delicacy of sentiment which 
 wreathed her with a thousand charms and inspired him 
 with emotions that were as sweet as they were 
 unwonted. 
 
 In the meantime, Mirabeau, who was now a colossus 
 in position as well as in stature, was receiving much of 
 Helene's attention. He appeared in all her drawing- 
 rooms, and was the central figure always. To one of 
 these stately gatherings he came prepared to arrange 
 with her the details of a plan they had already dis- 
 cussed with several confidential friends who were in 
 sympathy with the Queen if not with the King, namely, 
 the feasibility of the escape of the royal family. 
 
 There was but one way in which these conspirators 
 could be brought together without exciting suspicion, 
 and that was by means of a reception. 
 
 The fronts of the balconies, the facade of the man- 
 sion, and the main entrance were brightly illuminated 
 on the night of this fete. The lofty doors were thrown 
 open, and on either side of them a tall servant in blue 
 livery announced, one by one, the persons or parties 
 who were constantly ascending the marble steps. 
 Great vases of marble and of bronze, filled with exot- 
 ics, adorned the balcony rails and pilasters. From 
 within, over a grand staircase, the softest music rippled 
 down in a perpetual cascade of sound. 
 
 Carriages rolled rapidly up, deposited their burdens, 
 and as rapidly rolled away. The salon, nearly one hun- 
 dred feet in length and nearly half as broad, was
 
 2O8 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 thronged at 10 o'clock ; and it was quite 12 ere the 
 arrivals ceased. 
 
 As the night wore on, couple after couple passed out 
 into the banquet- room or into the pavilion that enclosed 
 the garden, and which offered a delightfully cool, 
 shadowy and continuous promenade. 
 
 This assemblage surpassed every other of the many 
 that during that memorable time enjoyed the hospital- 
 ity of this remarkable woman. Almost every one of the 
 leading spirits of the day was there. Numerous repre- 
 sentatives of the nobility gave splendor to the scene; 
 and scattered conspicuously among the many and lively 
 groups could be seen the rich uniforms of the military, 
 the most interesting of whom, in the eyes of Mirabeau 
 and of Helene, was a dark-faced Corsican officer, a sub- 
 lieutenant of artillery just created major Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, the subsequent master of Europe, who was 
 destined to sweep away the feudal traditions which had 
 made serfs of the peoples of a continent. 
 
 Among others whose fortunes had raised them above 
 the multitude was the Duke of Rochefoucalde; the 
 jurist Malasherbes; Thomas Jefferson, then United States 
 Minister to France; Champfort, the misanthrope, who 
 railed at women because he had tined of a certain class 
 of the sex; Brissot, who was forever quarreling with 
 Mirabeau over the position of the Jacobins; Lafayette, 
 whose star was at its meridian; Mirabeau 
 
 But here we will end the list, since it is Mirabeau of 
 whom we are eager to speak, and of whom we have 
 most to relate. 
 
 And while the entrancing valse is engaging the 
 younger portion of this magnificent gathering, we will 
 follow him into the little library room at the end of the 
 main corridor, into which Helene has drawn him. 
 
 On this gala night she had found opportunities to
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 209 
 
 communicate with those whose assistance she had asked, 
 and she now had gone to him confident and hopeful. 
 
 Without waiting for him to introduce another and 
 more tender subject which was trembling on his lips, 
 Helene began to broach the one that wholly engrossed 
 her own thoughts: "How to save the Queen, the King, 
 and the honor of France." 
 
 The King was to leave France with the family 
 secretly and fly to the frontier. Then he was to issue 
 a proclamation to " the people," declaring the Assembly 
 an unlawful body and dissolving it. He was to call 
 upon the nobles and the heads of the despoiled clergy 
 to assemble around him for defense and for the subjuga- 
 tion of the rebels. Mirabeau was to remain quietly in 
 Paris, to watch the Assembly and report its acts. 
 
 " It only remains to be seen," said Helene, " whether 
 the King has energy and decision enough to follow 
 instructions. If he has not, he will make this plan mis- 
 carry as he has every other. As for the Queen, undoubt' 
 edly she has sufficient courage and character to be relied 
 upon; and'we must act upon the King mainly through 
 her. You must go to her, and explain everything to her. 
 You will tell her that you come from me; it will inspire 
 her with confidence. Yon know what I expect of you, 
 my friend, loyalty, courage, and action." 
 
 Mirabeau had listened attentively, his heavy brows 
 contracted with thought. Then, reiterating his promises, 
 he carefully rehearsed the details of the plan. At first 
 he spoke as she had spoken, in guarded tones. But as 
 he warmed to the subject, his voice, always resonant, 
 rose to a most imprudent pitch. 
 
 Helene, as soon as she could, checked him: 
 
 "Do not raise your voice like that," sheremonstated; 
 "you talk as loudly as if you were addressing the Com- 
 mons."
 
 210 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "Pardon," returned he, with a penitent look. "Still 
 there is no one to hear us." 
 
 But as if to rebuke his imprudent confidence, at that 
 very moment, both of them heard, distinctly in the 
 adjoining room, the door of which was shut, the sound 
 of a saber or sword falling sharply against the door. 
 
 Mirabeau sprang to open it, but it resisted his efforts, 
 it was locked ; and w r hile he vainly tried to wrench it open, 
 the sound of retreating footsteps too well assured him 
 of the recent presence of an eavesdropper. 
 
 Without a word of comment upon this ominous 
 occurrence, the two gazed at each other a moment with 
 troubled looks and, silently leaving the library, mingled 
 composedly with the guests in the refectory.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 DUDEVANT DISAPPEARS. 
 
 On the fifth day after D'Artivan's interview with 
 Mother Cartouche, two gens d'armes went to the lodg- 
 ings of Achille Dudevant. They knocked at his door 
 and were answered by the concierge, who opened it, and 
 manifested the greatest surprise on beholding the uni- 
 forms and the muskets. 
 
 " Mon Dieu," exclaimed the concierge, in trepidation; 
 "what is it you want?" 
 
 "We wish to see Monsieur Dudevant," replied the 
 gens d'armes, and they pushed their way without cere- 
 mony into the room. No one was there, and they passed 
 into the bedroom, the concierge following. 
 
 "Well," said the latter, reassured now that his own 
 head was not in request, "you see that he is not here: 
 I could have told you that certainly " 
 
 "Hold your tongue and answer my questions," com- 
 manded the elder of the two officers, impatiently. 
 
 The concierge shrugged his shoulders satirically at 
 this difficult order, and was silent. 
 
 " Now, pay attention," began the gens d'armes, in a 
 sort of unison, which to the concierge was very funny 
 indeed; "where is he?" 
 
 " Oh, you think he is hiding, do you ? " exclaimed the 
 man, breaking his silence as though it would be a great 
 relief to speak. " Well, he is not here, I tell you, and I 
 do not know where he is. He has not been here since 
 the day before yesterday." 
 
 211
 
 212 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "Very well," returned the elder of the two, grimly. 
 " You will say nothing, when he returns, of our visit or 
 errand. We will come every evening after it is dark to 
 inquire for him, and if you inform him or assist him in 
 concealing himself morbleu, you had better have a 
 priest ready to shrive you, do you hear ?" 
 
 "Do I hear? I should say so. I could have heard 
 that if it had been whispered to me across the Seine," 
 grumbled the concierge, as he gazed furtively after the 
 departing gens d'arme's. "The devil! I always knew 
 that Dudevant would get himself in trouble. He is a 
 sly chap, and then he comes in at all hours, or not at all. 
 So. I will keep his apartments one week. To disap- 
 pear in these times for one week is to well, it's the 
 same thing as saying one is in prison or dead." 
 
 But Dudevant was in neither of these extreme pre- 
 dicaments, although his position was hardly more agree- 
 able. Dudevant, in fact, had met with an adventure, as 
 he was returning home on the night he disappeared- 
 He had been seized from behind while threading the 
 narrow alley called the Rue Polonceau, thrown down 
 and hammered about the face and body until he was 
 insensible and covered with blood. Toward morning 
 he was found lying against the wall of a garden, where 
 he had evidently been attacked; and as his features were 
 so swollen, discolored and otherwise changed as to ren- 
 der it doubtful whether or not he could be recognized, 
 should they take the trouble to attempt his identifica- 
 tion, the officers hailed a charette that was passing the 
 corner of the miserable little street, and took the still 
 unconscious journalist to that very worst of hells in 
 Paris, the Salpetriere. Here they announced that 
 they had a dead man to deliver ; apiece of humor which 
 almost cost them the trouble of carting him off again. 
 
 This institution, miscalled a hospital, was, as it still
 
 HELENS SAINTE MAUR. 213 
 
 is, located in the southeast portion of the city, on the 
 Boulevarts St. Marcel and de 1' Hopital. It lies south 
 and west of the Seine, and not far from the old barriers. 
 To be threatened with a trip to the Salspetriere was to 
 throw a sick person into convulsions or to cause him to 
 "leave his bed and walk," so infamous was its manage- 
 ment, so abominable were its arrangements, so filthy its 
 accommodations. It was a gloomy and forbidding 
 place, and its high dome, rising over everything else in 
 the vicinity, instead of a beacon of hope, was a sign 
 that a Lazar-house was near. 
 
 Into this fearful place Dudevant was carried; and 
 here he remained for weeks in a stupor before he 
 showed any animation of either mind or body; then he 
 remained, for months after that, with a partial paraly- 
 sis. His mind was in a vacuous state, his limbs were 
 flaccid, he could not use his voice. He had been ter- 
 ribly mauled, and the intention of his enemies, whoever 
 they were, must have been to murder him. The innef- 
 ficient treatment and careless nursing he received in the 
 hospital retarded, indeed almost prevented, his recovery. 
 But a tough constitution triumphed at last, and Dude- 
 vant was pronounced cured. When he walked out of 
 the place he stopped in the Jardin des Plantes to medi- 
 tate awhile, and inhale the fragrant odors from the grass 
 and flowers. He had, of course, no suspicion that the 
 gens d'armes had gone to arrest him; but he concluded 
 that if he returned to his old lodgings he would prob- 
 ably find that his wardrobe had been sold for arrears of 
 rent, and, if the rooms had been kept for him, the bill 
 would meet him at the door for a stiff balance. He 
 therefore took a thrifty view and went to the extreme 
 north, near the Boulevart St. Martin, where he pro- 
 cured cheap apartments, paying a month's rent for 
 them out of the money he had sewed up in his clothes,
 
 214 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 and which had escaped the ghouls of the hospital. Here 
 he remained during the entire month in complete seclu- 
 sion, rapidly recuperating his depleted forces. At the 
 end of that time he astonished his employers by walk- 
 ing into the Moniteur office smiling, robust, and noncha- 
 lant. 
 
 But Dudevant's enemies were not sleeping ; nor had 
 they forgotten him. One week later he again disap- 
 peared, and this time finally, as we will explain. 
 
 There were seven of those gloomy tombs called pris- 
 ons in the Capitol, all of which were kept suppli'ed with 
 tenants, most of whom were victims of the revolution. 
 When any one suddenly dropped out of sight during 
 this time his friends, if he had any, would go from one 
 to the other of these prisons to inquire for him. The 
 search was, therefore, necessarily a long and difficult 
 one in most cases, and was often abandoned before it 
 was half completed, either through discouragement or 
 fear. 
 
 Soon after Dudevant's first disappearance, his two 
 friends, Gascoigne and Long Nose, becoming uneasy, 
 had sought him at the prisons, making the round with 
 indefatigable energy and persistence ; but, of course, 
 had .heard nothing, and found no traces of him. Ob- 
 livion which dwelt in Paris now, if anywhere had 
 effectually swallowed him ; and his friends gave up 
 their search. 
 
 When he emerged from his retirement he sought 
 these two, and the trio devoted two or three days and 
 nights in celebrating the "prodigal's return." Dude- 
 vant had not told them either of the murderous attack 
 that had been made upon him, nor of his long immure- 
 ment within the walls of Salpetriere. He enveloped the 
 whole matter in a cloak of mystery, and gave his friends 
 the impression that his prolonged absence had been
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 2I<J 
 
 caused by'" the government's demands upon him as their 
 faithful and secret agent." 
 
 While he was enjoying the eclat from this rumor 
 he was suddenly lost sight of for the second time; but, 
 instead of becoming uneasy, and going about as before, 
 with long faces and anxious inquiries after Dudevant, 
 they shook their heads mysteriously, winked and smiled 
 when questioned themselves, and remarked: 
 
 " Oh, that sly Achille! He is the devil of a fellow, I 
 tell you. Bah, let him alone, he knows where he is, and 
 so does the chief." 
 
 But one day they- encountered D'Artivan in the 
 street. He recollected them in a moment; a look of sly 
 malevolence crept into his scarred face, and he stopped 
 in front of them. 
 
 "Good day, garcons," said he, with condescension; 
 "you are out for a holiday, then?" 
 
 Gascoigne, comprehending this covert allusion to 
 their masquerade at the caf6 of the Three Virgins, began 
 to bristle. 
 
 "And you, Monsieur, are out for a 'constitutional/ I 
 see," retorted he, staring significantly at the scar on 
 D'Artivan's cheek. 
 
 The latter turned scarlet with anger. 
 
 " After all," said he, " it is nothing that may not hap- 
 pen to any gentleman who settles his quarrels with his 
 sword." 
 
 It should be said here that immediately after the 
 revelation made to him by Dudevant, he had gone to 
 Paul Cambray, to worm out of the latter a confession of 
 the supposed parts he and Clarise had played in the 
 affair of the duel. Paul had talked so innocently of it, 
 however, and had manifested such complete ignorance 
 in the case that D'Artivan was convinced that the story 
 Dudevant had circulated was false and malicious, and
 
 2l6 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 had thought no more of Paul and his fiancee in connec- 
 tion with his disgrace and misfortune. But his amour 
 . propre was now about to receive a second and a final 
 shock. 
 
 Gascoigne laughed loudly at the Gascon's last speech. 
 
 " Ho, ho," cried he; "you are becoming reconciled to 
 your adversary, eh ? " 
 
 " Thousand devils ! " snarled D'Artivan; "my adver- 
 sary has not heard or seen the last of me yet. Lately, 
 for a number of months, I have been after more impor- 
 tant game ; but " 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Gascoigne, with a malicious 
 sneer; "you would retaliate upon a girl, then, after she 
 has fairly beaten you with a weapon of your own choos- 
 ing? Phew, what a hero you are, va." 
 
 "I do not know what you mean," observed D'Arti- 
 van, looking sullenly from one to the other of the young 
 men, who were now laughing scornfully. 
 
 "Pshaw!" sneered Gascoigne; "you still pretend 
 that you do not know who 'Monsieur Dechamp' was?'* 
 
 " Come, you are a droll fellow!" chimed Long Nose, 
 putting the tip of his forefinger to the end of his enor- 
 mous beak. 
 
 "Thousand devils! " shouted D'Artivan, whose mis- 
 givings had all returned; "explain the meaning of all 
 this palaver?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly," was the sarcastic rejoinder; " we 
 will repeat, and again repeat it, if you desire; listen: 
 you owe the beauty spot on your cheek to a girl, Mile. 
 Clarise, the sweetheart of Paul Cambray, and it was she 
 she, I tell you, who put it there, with her own little 
 rapier; and you did not step on a piece of orange peel, 
 either, voila!" 
 
 D'Artivan recoiled, speechless with rage. After all, 
 then, it was true. He felt a hot flood of hatred stifling
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 217 
 
 him. It was true! He recollected now the curious like- 
 ness the young cavalier bore to some one whom he 
 could not recall. It was the bitter truth. Well, he 
 could still punish the girl through her lover, who was 
 in fact the real author of his disgrace and disfigure- 
 ment, the coward. Then, as the two friends stood look- 
 ing at him mockingly, enjoying his discomfiture, he 
 suddenly bethought him of their comrade's misfortune, 
 which he, D'Artivan, had brought about. A malignant 
 smile played over his features as he turned away from 
 them; and twisting his head over his shoulder, with a 
 sardonic glance at them, he remarked: 
 
 "And so your friend Monsieur Dudevant, who was so 
 efficient and officious during that stupid affair at the 
 cafe, has gone to serve scraps to the other prisoners at 
 the Conciergerie?" 
 
 "Ha, what is that you say? Dudevant in prison?" 
 cried the two, running after D'Artivan, their own faces 
 paling with emotions as deep as his a few moments 
 before. 
 
 "You will tell him, when you find him there, that it 
 was I, D'Artivan, who sent him there!" And with this 
 rough response, the Gascon hurried on, without again 
 looking back. 
 
 Gascoigne and Long Nose stopped to consider what 
 was to be done. Their faces were very pale; tears were 
 gathering in their eyes; they gazed sorrowfully at each 
 other, and shook their heads despairingly. Then they 
 pledged themselves to do whatever they could, at once, to 
 save their friend, and parted without hope. Nor was 
 there room for any; they could not be of the least ser- 
 vice. Robespierre and Danton were at that period at 
 the beginning of their feud, Dudevant had been the 
 confidential agent of the one, and Dudevant's arrest had 
 been demanded by the gods of the revolution the sans
 
 2l8 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 culottes, at the hands of the other of these two implaca- 
 ble foes. There was therefore absolutely no help for the 
 journalist. 
 
 His name had been added to the list of condemned, 
 and Robespierre had made no attempt to save him, fear- 
 ing the sans culottes who wanted his death, and caring 
 nothing for his dupe, who merely wished to live. 
 
 At the Concierge, Dudevant was subjected to tor- 
 ture, in order to force from him criminating statements 
 to be used against his masters; but his masters had 
 made him their tool, and not their confidant, and he 
 had really nothing to reveal. His torturers did not 
 believe him when 'he told them this. They took him 
 back to the long vault-room, in which he and one hun- 
 dred more occupied beds of straw, and promised him 
 another application of the torture on the next day 
 unless he confessed. They believed he had become 
 such an adept in lying that he was still lying from the 
 very stubbornness of habit. 
 
 When his miserable companions saw him limping 
 toward one of the straw pallets, they gathered around 
 him with expressions of sympathy. 
 
 "My poor friend/' said one, "you have then survived 
 it?" 
 
 "Part of it," replied Dudevant, faintly, but with 
 perfect sang froid. 
 
 "What! are you to go back?" 
 
 "Yes, this is only a respite if I tell nothing/' 
 gasped he; "but, mon Dieu! I have positively nothing 
 to tell. However, they will not believe me." 
 
 " Monstrous ! " cried a score of voices. Poor wretches ! 
 All their indignation, all their protests only rebounded 
 from the rough walls in that dungeon; they never 
 reached the light of day nor fell upon one merciful 
 ear.
 
 HELKNE SAINTE MAUR. 219 
 
 "Well, how do you feel now?" inquired another sym- 
 pathizer, observing the increased pallor of the latest 
 victim . 
 
 But by this time Dudevant was past answering with 
 his tongue. He was white to his lips; he could no 
 longer speak. He motioned them to bring him pen and 
 paper, knowing that some of them had managed to con- 
 ceal these precious trifles about their person. When the 
 tablets and a crayon were brought to him he wrote: 
 
 " I am dumb as the child of Tantalus, if not as beau- 
 tiful. The effect of that last wrench has returned again; 
 it has taken my breath. As for the condition of my 
 body, here is a couplet you may sing for your own 
 comfort, you who live in expectation of acquiring my 
 experience: 
 
 "He who is racked, released, and racked again, 
 Knows best the luxury of ease from pain." 
 
 " To end with an aphorism, there is more dignity in 
 death than in life." 
 
 On the following day Dudevant was taken for 
 another trial of the knee-clamp; but his persecutors were 
 overzealous in the application, and the journalist expired 
 in the chair. 
 
 The Marquis had disposed of one of his enemies, the 
 man through whose means the principal characters in 
 this historic tale were brought together. 
 
 Another of his victims, and the most innocent of all, 
 was spon to follow the first.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE LEOPARD. 
 
 During the residency of Louis XVI. at Versailles, 
 and for some time afterwards, there was a fine zoolog- 
 ical collection in a building adapted to the purpose, and 
 which was called the menagerie. This building was 
 situated at the end of a conduit which crossed the grand 
 canal, then a popular boating ground for the guests at 
 the palace, and it was therefore somewhat isolated. At 
 night it would have been very quiet in its vicinity but 
 for the echoes of the interminable cries of the savage 
 and restless beasts. 
 
 The interior of the building was divided into two 
 large portions, one of which was arranged for winter 
 and the other for summer use. Three care-takers were 
 employed, a head keeper and two assistants, whose lodg- 
 ings were several hundred feet from the building. 
 After feeding and leaving water for their " family," as 
 these keepers were in the habit of calling their unruly 
 charges, they left the building at sunset, and went to 
 their own quarters for the night. The place was con- 
 sequently deserted and closed between dusk and day- 
 break; but during the day the menagerie was accessible 
 to any one who chose to visit it. 
 
 Among the animals there confined was a full-grown 
 leopard, a present to the King from an Indian Rajpoot. 
 It was an exceedingly fierce brute, possessed astonish- 
 ing strength, and was believed to be untamable. On 
 
 account of its ferocious disposition it was regarded by 
 
 220
 
 HEl.LNE SAINTE MAUR. 221 
 
 the keepers with the greatest aversion and even fear, 
 although it was confined in an unusually strong cage. 
 This cage was placed at the extreme end of .the passage) 
 on either side of which the animals were ranged ; and 
 opposite was another cage of exactly similar size, con- 
 struction and appearance, in which until recently a 
 harmless chimpanzee had been kept. Both these cages 
 rested on small iron wheels, so that they could be easily 
 rolled to any spot desired without much effort. The 
 bars were rather too far apart about four inches and a 
 half ; and the only entrance was through a small wicket, 
 secured by a strong bolt. 
 
 The leopard appeared to be forever in motion, trot- 
 ting back and forth the length of its cell, or leaping 
 with lightning-like bounds against the latticed bars, 
 while it uttered the most terrific and piercing cries of 
 rage or disappointment. 
 
 Months had elapsed after the removal of the royal 
 family from Versailles, and the ancient seat of the Grand 
 Monarque had once more resumed its solitary aspect, 
 despite the magnificence which remained. 
 
 On a bright morning in January, after the chateau 
 had been closed, a showily-dressed man was idly saun- 
 tering toward the building we have described. He had 
 wandered for an hour or more through the winding 
 paths of the gardens, where a mournful solitude 
 brooded, and was now approaching the menagerie, with 
 the apparent purpose of looking at the animals, whose 
 cries had attracted him. 
 
 As he walked through the passage, glancing care- 
 lessly at the restless prisoners on either side, and laugh- 
 ing at the snarling manner in which they greeted him, 
 he was suddenly assailed by an outburst of fury from 
 the leopard's cage. 
 
 " Morbleu, what a monster! " exclaimed he, stopping
 
 222 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 abruptly in front of the brute. As he stared at it, with 
 a feeling of awe at first, then of fascination, the leopard 
 trotted slowly to the wicket, and, crouching down with 
 its muzzle to the floor, steadily regarded him in its 
 turn, mute and motionless. 
 
 For several minutes the man stood thus, never mov- 
 ing his eyes from the ferocious visage, while its green 
 eyeballs blazed into his, intense, searching, dilating. 
 It really seemed as if these two, the man and the brute, 
 were moved at the same moment by the same impulse; 
 that they recognized each other, or were, by this mute 
 and prolonged interchange of glances, establishing an 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Up to this time the man had seen no one in the build- 
 ing. He had entered by the open door, and had reached 
 this remote corner of the passage without encountering 
 any one. Now, while he stood absorbed in the con- 
 templation of his terrible viz-a-viz, he was startled by 
 the sound of a surly voice behind him, and turning 
 hastily he saw issuing from the opposite cage a short, 
 muscular man of about forty, very dark-skinned and 
 sullen-featured, who came slowly toward him. This 
 individual carried his head in a peculiarly drooping 
 fashion, as if he desired to hide his face from observa- 
 tion, or to avoid conversation. In his hands he carried 
 some tools he had been repairing. 
 
 " Pardieu! " exclaimed he, in an exceedingly husky 
 voice, at the same time raising his head sideways and 
 upward, that he might peer into the face of the stranger 
 without exposing his own to scrutiny; "Monsieur must 
 be a tamer of beasts. " 
 
 This unexpected compliment evidently pleased the 
 other, for a slight blush tinged his cheeks, while he 
 assumed an air of importance at once. 
 
 "Oh," returned he, superciliously; "I confess I pos-
 
 HELENF. SAINTE MAUR. 223 
 
 sess a certain kind of power over wild animals. It is a 
 gift, you know." 
 
 The keeper surveyed him out of his stealthy eyes 
 with something between doubt and admiration; then his 
 gaze wandered to the leopard which still lay crouched 
 upon the floor, slowly beating its flexible tail, but utter- 
 ing no cries, showing no fangs, its half-closed eyes fol- 
 lowing the slightest movements of the stranger with an 
 interest that seemed human. 
 
 The under-keeper, astonished at this apparent 
 docility of the dreaded monster, turned again to the 
 visitor, and regarded him with eager curiosity. 
 
 "Yes, you have it, you have it," he repeated to him- 
 self, excitedly; then: 
 
 "Well, if you could teach another person how to 
 tame that miserable brute there, for instance? " 
 
 He pointed with his black forefinger at the leopard, 
 as it lay with its head between its outstretched paws, 
 blinking silently at the stranger. 
 
 "That would not be possible, I fear," replied the 
 latter, unwilling to expose his false pretensions; "you 
 can not impart a gift, though you may serve others by 
 the exercise of it sometimes. Perhaps I may render that 
 service to you soon, by subduing this leopard, which I 
 perceive is a splendid subject. I should like, at some 
 time or other, to try the exercise of my power on him." 
 
 " Ma foi ! " observed the under-keeper, with an 
 emphatic gesture; " that would be fine. Yes, yes, I 
 should like that. Do you know," continued he, follow- 
 ing a few steps after the " tamer of beasts," who was 
 desirous of getting safely away with his honors, "that 
 varmint is the plague of my life. Some fine day I expect 
 it will. get out of its cage, and then my God ! " 
 
 The very horror of his thoughts deprived the man of 
 any further speech. He went on no further, but
 
 224 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 abruptly turned around, and peered shudderingly at 
 the still silent leopard, which was now standing on all 
 fours and watching him through the wide bars of its 
 prison. 
 
 The stranger had also turned abruptly. But instead 
 of the leopard it was the under-keeper who engaged his 
 attention now. 
 
 " Why do you think it possible for the leopard to 
 escape from its cage ? " asked he, in a singularly altered 
 voice. For an instant, the under-keeper felt inclined to 
 suspect that after all this stranger was himself afraid of 
 the brute; but he answered: 
 
 " Sacre ! I have seen him run his muzzle between 
 the bars, seize the bolt of the wicket in his mouth, and 
 move it forward and backward in the socket just as 
 if he was testing it. He seems to have the sense of a 
 man, pardi." 
 
 " So he has," assented the stranger, gravely. Then: 
 
 "Are all the other cages well secured ?" inquired he. 
 
 "Perfectly so," responded the under-keeper, emphat- 
 ically. "Bah! it would not be myself, Vincent Mor- 
 ceau, who would come in here alone at the first streak 
 of the day, if some of these prowlers had a chance to 
 mount my back." 
 
 "So, then, there is no one here at night?" 
 
 The under-keeper laughed boisterously. 
 
 "What! Do you think the howls of thest: brutes are 
 lullabies to put people to sleep? These walls are thick, 
 I tell you, but still they do not prevent us from hearing 
 when the she-tiger and this 'miserable' join in a little 
 concert pardieu, no! " 
 
 The visitor reflected. 
 
 "And your name is Morceau, is it?" observed he, 
 abruptly looking up.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 225 
 
 "Did I say so, then? Certainly, my name is Mor- 
 ceau; and what may Monsieur's be?" 
 
 "Oh," replied the stranger, hesitatingly, as if he 
 wished for time to coin a name, " my name is of no con- 
 sequence. However, it is at your service it is Fer- 
 dean." 
 
 " Ferdean," repeated the under-keeper, musingly; 
 "that is an odd name. I have heard it before I can not 
 tell where. Very well, Monsieur Ferdean, I shall not 
 forget you." 
 
 "Nor I you, Monsieur Morceau," rejoined the other, 
 with sudden cordiality. 
 
 " And I hope, Monsieur Ferdean, that you will come 
 here again and tame for me that devil of a leopard." 
 
 " I am inclined to think that I shall do so, my friend; 
 and if I conclude accordingly, I shall let you know the 
 day before I come for that purpose, so that we may 
 make suitable arrangements. In the meantime, say 
 nothing about this to any one. I do not wish any noto- 
 riety in the matter; and besides, if I tame the leopard, 
 the credit shall be yours." 
 
 " Mon Dieu, do you say so?" cried the under-keeper, 
 quivering with delight. " Ho, ho, I shall certainly get 
 a place, then, in the Jardin des Plantes, when this place 
 is shut up, as it is going to be." 
 
 " That will be excellent," remarked the visitor, as he 
 passed out of the building. 
 
 No sooner had the latter emerged into the grounds 
 than his manner underwent as sudden and great a 
 change as his voice had done a few minutes before. His 
 countenance grew pale to ghastliness, his eyes assumed 
 a wild expression, there was in them a mingling of terror 
 and ferocity. He began to move at a faster and faster 
 pace toward the inn, where he had left his horse; and by 
 the time he had reached it he was running. In a very
 
 226 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 few minutes he was mounted, and dashing at headlong 
 speed toward Paris. 
 
 This man was D'Artivan. He had come to Versailles, 
 as many other idlers had since the desertion of the court, 
 with no other object than to wander over the place. It 
 was his habit to hover about the habitations of the 
 nobility, and Versailles at that time had many noble 
 residences, some of which had not yet been closed up. 
 D'Artivan had stopped at an inn, gossiped with the inn- 
 keeper's wife, wandered araund the gardens (to which 
 he was admitted through the influence of a livre), and 
 by rnjere chance had happened in the vicinity of the 
 menagerie. That visit was to produce consequences at 
 once frightful and unheard of.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 D'ARTIVAN'S PLOT. 
 
 A week had elapsed after the visit of D'Artivan to 
 the menagerie at Versailles, when that individual called 
 one evening upon Paul Cambray, apparently teeming 
 with a subject which he was in a hurry to discuss with 
 his friend. Unfortunately, Paul was at home. 
 
 D'Artivan greeted him with more than usual friend- 
 liness. 
 
 "My dear friend," said he, laying his hand upon the 
 young man's shoulder with smiling familiarity, " I have 
 just been making a little bet for your benefit." 
 
 " A bet ? But you know I never bet. And besides " 
 
 "Oh, you need not be alarmed, my dear boy, you at 
 least will not have it to pay ; although it rests with you, 
 absolutely with you, whether I win or lose." 
 
 "I low is that?" demanded Paul, feeling a little 
 vague uneasiness. 
 
 " I will tell you all about it. You know that Michelet, 
 who always sings through his nose when he sees you ? " 
 
 Paul frowned. The sound of that name was a net- 
 tle; it stung his pride. D'Artivan saw the frown, and 
 passed his hand over his mouth to conceal the smile of 
 satisfaction which he could not repress. 
 
 "Oh, you remember his impudence. For instance, 
 when he went with us to see the Bengal tiger in the 
 Janlin des Plantes, he was watching you more than the 
 beasts, and sneering at every movement you made. 
 While there, he said to me, aside : 
 
 327
 
 228 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " ' It is singular, the startling effect which the cries of 
 
 wild beasts have upon some people. Did you observe 
 
 just now, when the tiger gave that tremendous roar, how 
 
 your little friend Paul-ine started back and actually 
 
 rarned pale?' ' 
 
 Upon hearing this canard, which D'Artivan repeated 
 or invented with many grimaces intended to show how 
 he had listened to the aspersion, Paul grew not pale but 
 red, and clinched his fist. 
 
 "He lied!" exclaimed he, between his teeth. 
 
 "I believe so," remarked his friend, carelessly; "still, 
 it was a slur that called for a well, for something more 
 than a rebuke. As your friend, I felt it necessary to 
 prove him a liar instead of calling him one, do you see? 
 An idea struck me:. 'Have you ever been to the little 
 menagerie at Versailles? ' I asked him. He said he had. 
 Then I said to him : 'Very good; you have seen there 
 the leopard that came from Rohilcund. Now, I will 
 wager you ten louis d'ors that, if I ask him to do so, he 
 will spend the night with me in front of the leopard's 
 cage." 
 
 " 'And how many keepers will your friend Paul-ine 
 require to stay with him and protect him from the bark 
 of the beast?' asked the sneering fellow. 
 
 "'None,' I replied, feeling very much like curling his 
 ears. ' Paul and I will be there alone, and the outer 
 door will be locked, as it always is.' 
 
 Well, Michelet accepted my wager, directly, and said 
 to me, with another provoking sneer: 
 
 " ' Mon Dieu! if your little Paul-ine does that, you 
 will find him in the morning with his head wrapped up 
 in his coat.' " 
 
 "Serpent!" hissed Paul, irrelevantly. 
 
 "Oh, I could have knocked him down; but that 
 would not have silenced his tongue. Besides, I knew
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 229 
 
 you, and I said to myself, 'I will punish this impudent 
 slanderer, by winning his ten louis which he can not 
 afford to lose; and, since I do not need them, and it will 
 in fact be Paul, my friend, who will earn them, they will 
 be his to spend on his adorable Clarise.' Well, we were* 
 to have met the next day at Versailles, to arrange the 
 matter with the keeper and so on. But an accident 
 kept me from keeping the appointment; and the next 
 day I found a note on my table, saying that he had 
 waited for me, and, as I did not come, he supposed you 
 had refused to go, just as he thought you would. Also, 
 that he was going out of the city for a fortnight. I was 
 greatly annoyed. Your reputation was at stake, do you 
 see? So I watched for his return, and yesterday I met 
 him in the Champ de Mars. He gave me bon jour, and 
 all at once he began to laugh, clapped me on my arm, 
 and said: 
 
 " ' How is it, my poor Victor, that you are always in 
 the company of that young Cambray, who has the face 
 of a girl, and is so nervous that he can not drink out of 
 a full glass?' ' 
 
 "What ! did the scoundrel say that?" shouted Paul, 
 rising and walking wildly about the room. 
 
 "Those were his words. Well, I explained to him 
 why I had been unable to meet him as agreed, and 
 insisted on his going to Versailles with me at once. We 
 went there and arranged everything. You are to go 
 with me to-morrow afternoon at two, in a cabriolet." 
 
 Paul hesitated for several moments before he con- 
 sented to this arrangement. Finally, as the picture of 
 the sneering Michelet, who sang through his nose when- 
 ever they met, arose before him, he came up to the Gas- 
 con and, holding out his hand with a flourish, said : 
 
 "It is agreed; and if after that this Michelet dares 
 to continue slandering me "
 
 230 IIELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 He did not finish the ominous sentence, but shook 
 his head menacingly, and twisted his moustache with an 
 energy that spoke of the code. 
 
 At six o'clock on the evening after this interview the 
 two friends rode up to the inn where D'Artivan had 
 previously stopped, and the latter, leaving Paul there, 
 drove off toward the canal. It was dark when he returned 
 and with a surprising amount of haste he assisted 
 Paul into the cabriolet and started again toward the 
 canal. When they arrived at the building containing 
 the animals, D'Artivan (who had dispensed with a driver) 
 drove to a clump of trees some distance away, and, leav- 
 ing the conveyance there, the two proceeded to the side 
 entrance of the building. D'Artivan produced a key, 
 and in a few moments they were standing before the 
 cage of a leopard, over which the under-keeper had left 
 a lantern suspended and brightly burning. Paul 
 shivered a little as he looked around him, and this sensa- 
 tion increased to a tremor as he gazed into the eyes of the 
 leopard, which in their turn were regarding him wiHi an 
 extremely hungry expression. 
 
 D'Artivan had scarcely spoken from the time they 
 had started from the inn; and Paul soon recovered him- 
 self while amusedly observing his friend's apparent 
 nervousness. Immediately his manner became bold; 
 and his voice had a confident tone as he asked: 
 
 " Can we sleep in here ! " 
 
 "Certainly," answered his friend, quickly; "we are 
 to sleep in this cage opposite. See, I have had two 
 bundles of straw placed in it. The pile further back 
 from the wicket is yours. Let us get in, and we can 
 talk until we become sleepy. Besides, we shall not be 
 so likely to disturb these brutes, who are the very devil 
 for noise when they are roused." 
 
 Paul crept through the open wicket to his bed of
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 231 
 
 straw at once, D'Artivan following. The latter then 
 took from his pocket a flask, which he handed to Paul, 
 remarking: 
 
 " It is a fine cordial; it will keep the dampness out 
 of our lungs, and make our sleep the sounder. We have 
 nothing to fear here, you see, since we have only to fas- 
 ten our wicket so, and here we are." 
 
 D'Artivan closed and bolted the wicket, and then, half 
 reclining on the straw, began to gossip in a jocular 
 strain. But his voice had an unnatural sound, it quav- 
 ered, and sometimes entirely died away, as though his 
 breath had failed. Paul remarked this, and also the 
 trembling of his hands, and, wondering at his friend who 
 seemed to have less nerve than himself, took a liberal 
 draught from the flask, and passed it, observing: 
 
 " This is excellent stuff; it is a perfect warming-pan." 
 
 D'Artivan held the flask in both hands as he put the 
 mouth of it to his own lips, and, after holding it there 
 for some seconds, placed the stopper in it and returned 
 it to his pocket. 
 
 Everything in the place was now silent. Only the 
 hoarse breathing, or an occasional deep yawn, and a 
 restless movement now and then, came from the cages. 
 Both men had relapsed into silence also. Soon Paul's 
 head began to droop; in a few minutes he sank gently 
 on his side. He was soundly sleeping. 
 
 D'Artivan had not closed his eyes; he had kept them 
 steadily fixed upon his friend's face, with a sort of glare. 
 It reminded one of the expression on the visage of the 
 leopard, when it stood with its muzzle at the wicket an 
 hour before. 
 
 When Paul began to breathe heavily, D'Artivan rose 
 up softly from his straw, without rustling it in the least. 
 Then he unbolted the wicket and slipped outside of the 
 cage. He drew the wicket to and bolted it again ir*n
 
 232 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 the outside, after which he went behind the cage, and, 
 putting his shoulder against the thick cross-bar, pushed 
 it slowly and noiselessly toward the cage of the leopard. 
 The bed of straw upon which Paul lay sleeping was so 
 arranged that his head rested against the bars; and 
 D'Artivan was deliberately steering the cage so that 
 this end of it would touch the corresponding end of the 
 cage of the leopard. 
 
 In the meantime, the great brute was, to all appear- 
 ances, asleep; but, in fact, the animal's eyes were not 
 entirely closed, and it was awake and alert, after the 
 manner of its tribe. It was watching D'Artivan; but 
 it neither moved nor uttered a sound. 
 
 At length, the two cages touched; they came together 
 with a slight jar; and the leopard, which had been 
 lying down in the position a sleeping hound assumes, 
 raised its head, beat the floor with its tail and rose upon 
 its four feet. Its green eyes were shimmering like two 
 immense emeralds in the shadow in which it stood, 
 and they were turned full upon the Gascon. 
 
 The latter also kept his gaze concentrated upon the 
 monster's front; and when the cages were joined, he 
 began to walk backward toward the lateral passage, 
 until he reached the door by which he and his friend 
 had entered. With his hand thrust behind him, he 
 opened it, quickly passed out and closed it, locking it 
 and withdrawing the key. 
 
 No sooner had D'Artivan disappeared, than the 
 leopard began to utter a succession of low, whining 
 sounds, and to manifest an uneasiness by sniffing the 
 air, and rubbing its nose between the bars of the two 
 cells. Then, suddenly bristling, and curving its back 
 in a peculiar manner it slowly trotted to the farther 
 end of the cage, crouched down upon its belly, and 
 began to crawl toward the unconscious sleeper. When
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 233 
 
 it was within a foot of the bars it suddenly sprang upon 
 its feet, with a shrill, hissing sound, and, lifting its terri- 
 ble paw, armed with five talons as strong and sharp as 
 the point of a steel poniard, the monster dashed it 
 between the bars. It descended full upon the throat 
 of the sleeper, and at the same instant a roar issued 
 from its own which was heard by the under-keeper out- 
 side of the thick walls and a hundred yards away. 
 
 The under-keeper turned over on his side, smiled in 
 his semi-sleep, and muttered: 
 
 "Aha, the tamer of beasts is there! I shall have the 
 place."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 DOCTOR SOUCHON. 
 
 On the night during which the strange and desper- 
 ate scene we are about to describe was enacted the res- 
 idence of Doctor Souchon was preternaturally dark. 
 Not even a glimmer of light was visible through the 
 chinks of the solid oaken shutters which hermetically 
 sealed the gloomy and mould-stained walls. Nor was 
 there a sound from within to denote that the house had 
 so much as a mouse for an occupant. 
 
 But, silent and deserted as the doctor's abode 
 appeared, this dearth of life and light was only apparent. 
 
 In a large upper room, which was almost destitute of 
 furniture and resembling more the immense laboratory 
 of an alchemist than anything else, three persons faced 
 each other. One of these persons was the master of 
 the house the surgeon who had attended the wounded 
 D'Artivan at the cafe of the Three Virgins ; the sec- 
 ond was Captain Felix Dumesnil ; the third was Victor 
 D'Artivan. 
 
 In a dimly lighted room below, and \vhich was filled 
 with the massive and sombre furniture of the period, sat 
 a young girl dressed in mourning, and kneeling at a bier 
 in the centre of the apartment, upon which was stretched 
 a headless body covered with a black pall. The long 
 veil of the girl swept the heavy carpet ; her figure was 
 bowed over the breast of the corpse upon which her 
 folded arms rested, and her white forehead rested upon 
 her arms. She was weeping, not boisterously, but 
 
 234
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 235 
 
 silently. At short intervals a shudder convulsed her 
 form, and a stifled sob escaped from her bosom. 
 
 At a quarter past midnight the three persons in the 
 room above were enacting a most remarkable scene. 
 
 Half a dozen candles in sconces afforded an imper- 
 fect light, throwing outside of their radiance grotesque 
 and shifting shadows. 
 
 At one end of this melancholy chamber knelt the 
 murderer of Paul Cambray. His upturned face was 
 ashen, even to the lips ; its expression was that of the 
 wildest terror. His eyes, distended and glittering, 
 seemed straining to fly from their sockets. His writh- 
 ing hands, raised to the level of his eyes, opened and 
 closed continually, as if endeavoring by pantomime to 
 convey what his dumb lips refused to pronounce. 
 
 In front of this man, towering over him like a priest 
 of the Inquisition, stood the surgeon, Souchon. Robed 
 in a black woollen gown shaped like a gaberdine and 
 reaching to his slippered feet, his head covered with a 
 skull cap of the same stuff and color, he appeared not 
 unlike .one of those Chaldean oracles who gave courage 
 to the armies of Darius or inspired them with despair. 
 His tall figure was more imposing in this strange garb, 
 his austere features more grim and repellant. In his 
 hand he held a small ebony cane, with the point of 
 which he touched at intervals a button in a powerful 
 battery which stood on a table at his side. At every 
 siu-h movement, D'Artivan uttered a scream of agony, 
 \vliile his body shook as with an ague, and not without 
 on. 
 
 A long copper wire, the ends of which were con- 
 nected with the poles of the battery, formed a large loop 
 at its center, and this 1 .op encircled the neck of the 
 Gascon. At every touch of the button, a current of 
 electric fire darted along the wire, scorching his throat,
 
 236 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 and leaving a white cicatrice around it. Three of these 
 rings were already broadly defined above his velvet col- 
 lar, which was pushed down, leaving his neck bare to 
 the shoulders. 
 
 Behind the grim inquisitor stood the gigantic Dumes- 
 nil, with arms folded, and with his penetrating eyes fixed 
 upon the face of the quivering victim. His stern fea- 
 tures were immobile, rigid as the mask of Fate itself. 
 
 The silence in the chamber at that moment was 
 frightful; it portended so much. Suddenly it was 
 broken, for the fourth time: 
 
 "Confess!" 
 
 This one word, pronounced in a terrible undertone 
 by the surgeon, was repeated for the fourth time. It 
 had followed every appeal of D'Artivan for mercy. 
 Then, silence again. 
 
 The murderer presented a pitiable appearance. His 
 rich garments, soiled by the thick dust from the bare 
 floor, and torn in many places by a struggle that had 
 evidently taken place, seemed to mock his abject state 
 and humble attitude. The sparkle of the jewels on his 
 embroidered collar Ferdean's jewels was like that 
 from the laughing eye of a devil gloating over his 
 sufferings. 
 
 He was faint with terror, he was weak fn)m the 
 struggle in which he had been bent and twisted and 
 thrown into a heap upon the oak boards of the floor by 
 the Hercules who had seized him in the street and 
 borne him into this house of doom. He would have 
 fallen forward upon his face, but that the horrible neck- 
 lace, instinct as it was with life, like a human hand held 
 him upright, while it burned his flesh. 
 
 "Confess!" 
 
 Such was the command, uttered by the inexorable
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 237 
 
 voice that grew sterner with each repetition of the 
 word. 
 
 "Oh, mercy, mercy ! " shrieked the wretch, twining 
 his long fingers together, unmindful of the bruises they 
 received from the costly rings Ferdean's rings, which 
 glittered upon them. 
 
 The fearful wand was raised. 
 
 " Oh, God ! Mercy mercy ! I did not mean to kill 
 him ! " 
 
 " He was your friend," 
 
 The measured tones were hoarse, as they left the 
 white, set lips of Dumesnil. 
 
 " Yes, yes," wailed the murderer; " but I did not mean 
 to kill him, I tell you ! " 
 
 Again spoke his inexorable judge: 
 
 " He was your friend ; and he gave you his confi- 
 dence." 
 
 " But I, I spent money upon him, I befriended him." 
 
 " Yes, that you might the more surely enmesh him. 
 You enveigled him to his death; you assisted at or you 
 caused his murder. He trusted you, and you betrayed 
 him to his death." 
 
 " But I did not. It was he who proposed to go to 
 Versailles, to enter the cage, to remain there all night. 
 I could not dissuade him, and I remained awhile with 
 him, and and left him left him all right." 
 
 "You hated him." 
 
 " Oh, it is true I was jealous of him, and he he 
 wronged me." 
 
 " He was your friend." 
 
 Again those ominous words, sad in their meaning, 
 terrible in their tone. 
 
 "But she loved him, that Clarise and he triumphr 1 
 over me; and she the little plebian " 
 
 "Cease your babbling."
 
 238 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Dumesnil's voice was a reverberation; it shook the 
 windows of the room. D'Artivan cringed, and was 
 silent. His frivolous thoughts were instantly dissi- 
 pated. His eyes wandered to the terrible instrument 
 the use and power of which had been taught to Souchon 
 by the banished Mesmer, but was yet so little under- 
 stood. It lay there, under its black velvet covering, like 
 a living monster, obedient to the touch of its master. 
 
 Again the wand was raised, and a cry of ineffable 
 anguish answered the signal. 
 
 " Confess, or die!" 
 
 The walls of the Gascon's ears seemed to crack 
 with the sound of this frightful voice. To his quaking 
 soul it was as the crash of thunder. 
 
 And then for a brief space he became a madman, 
 oblivious to all save fear, that kind of fear which makes 
 the veriest coward attempt what heroes would halt at. 
 
 With a movement of incredible swiftness, he sud* 
 denly thrust his fingers against his throat, forced them 
 between it and the thick wire, and, although his hands 
 were bound togefher at the wrists, succeeded in spread- 
 ing the loop so as to admit the middle finger of each 
 hand. Then, with a supreme effort of strength, he drew 
 the coil upward. He had drawn his chin inward, and 
 had succeeded in slipping the loop over it and as far as 
 his mouth. 
 
 As the wire touched the murderer's lips there came 
 from them a noise like the hissing of a serpent; a white 
 and pungent vapor issued from them, followed by a 
 shriek. 
 
 The surgeon had forestalled him! 
 
 This time D'Artivan had succumbed to nature he 
 had swooned. There was no difficulty, therefore, in 
 replacing the wire ; but his arms were now tied behind 
 him. The surgeon produced a small vial from a medi-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 239 
 
 cine case, poured a few drops of liquid from it upon the 
 tongue of the unconscious man, and in a moment he 
 opened his eyes wildly, and feebly cried: 
 
 " Do you intend, then, to murder me ? " 
 
 The surgeon made no reply. Once more he resumed 
 his station near the battery, wand in hand. And once 
 more, without a word, without a glance at his ghastly 
 suppliant, he stretched forth his arm, and touched the 
 fatal button. 
 
 A last despairing scream quivered in the burning 
 throat of the craven. He could bear no more. He 
 held up his head, contorted his cracking lips in the 
 effort to speak and mumbled, huskily: 
 
 " Hold, for Christ's sake, hold! " 
 
 This strange appeal in the name of One at whom all 
 France seemed scoffing brought a smile to the surgeon's 
 lips, a smile of derision. 
 
 "Will you confess?" asked he, moving his cane 
 toward the button. 
 
 "Yes, yes," yelled the prisoner, frantically; " I will 
 confess; only release me." 
 
 " Not yet," said Dumesnil, approaching the scarred 
 wretch and looking sternly down upon him. Then, 
 drawing from his capacious waistcoat pocket the iden- 
 tical wallet in which he had bestowed the bank-notes Paul 
 had given him on the quay at Dover, he drew from it a 
 folded paper. 
 
 Opening the paper, he read aloud: 
 
 " I, Victor D'Artivan, residing in the Faubourg St. 
 Honore, Paris, in the presence of Doctor Alfred Sou- 
 chon and Captain Felix Dumesnil, who will sign this 
 paper in my presence, as witnesses, do hereby confess 
 and state upon my corporal oath, without compulsion: 
 
 " First, that I inveigled Paul Cambray to enter the 
 building at Versailles used for the confinement and exhi-
 
 240 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 bition of wild animals; and that I there persuaded him 
 to sleep in a cage which, after drugging- him with liquor, 
 I rolled against the cage of a leopard; and that the leop- 
 ard tore out the throat of the said Paul Cambray, and 
 devoured the head. 
 
 " Also, that I was directed to kill said Cambray by 
 the Marquis of B ." 
 
 The remainder of the document was merely formal. 
 
 " Have you heard all that I have read ? " inquired 
 Dumesnil, after he had finished. 
 
 " Yes," replied the Gascon, sullenly. 
 
 "Then why did the Marquis of B command you 
 
 to kill Paul Cambray ? " 
 
 Dumesnil had until now remained singularly impass- 
 able; but as he put this question he exhibited an emo- 
 tion which he could not entirely suppress. A film gath- 
 ered before his eyes, and he spoke almost tremulously : 
 
 " The Marquis of B required me to put him out 
 
 of the way by any means I might choose," answered 
 D'Artivan, slowly; "and I wished to be revenged upon 
 him, and another through him. He had discovered a 
 secret of the Marquis's, which the latter would rather 
 be buried alive with than have every one know. Some 
 others, also," added the murderer, malignantly glaring 
 at the Captain, " know too much for their safety." 
 
 "And this secret do you know it?" 
 
 D'Artivan was silent; he looked sullenly at the floor. 
 
 " No matter," observed the Captain, with a sigh; "let 
 us proceed. You will sign this paper with your full 
 name, after which we will also sign it as witnesses. 
 Unbind his hands, Doctor." 
 
 And while D'Artivan was being relieved from the 
 ligature around his wrist, Dumesnil brought to him a 
 pen and-inkhorn and a portable writing case which the 
 Doctor usually carried.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 241 
 
 In the unnerved condition in which D'Artivan's expe- 
 rience had left him, his task was necessarily a slow one. 
 While he was engaged at it the most profound silence 
 prevailed in the room, accentuated by the monotonous 
 scratching of the quill in his stiff and bruised fingers. 
 But once there came a slight shuffling sound, seemingly 
 from the corridor, and close to the door. D'Artivan 
 raised his head and listened. But trie sound was not 
 repeated, and he resumed his work. 
 
 At last he had finished. He had made each letter 
 very large, and had made several attempts with his 
 crippled fingers before he had succeeded in tracing his 
 name legibly. Then the witnesses signed. D'Artivan 
 was then freed from the collar of wire, and permitted to 
 rise to his feet. 
 
 Moving stiffly across the chamber he picked up his 
 hat, which had fallen upon the floor in his struggle, 
 walked toward the door, and turned with a scowl of 
 malignity as he reached it. 
 
 " Now that you are through with me," he snarled, 
 " I suppose I am at liberty to leave this house ? " 
 
 "Oh, do you really think that ? " inquired Dumesnil, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Of course," quickly replied the Gascon, glancing 
 uneasily at the giant, who was standing but a few feet 
 from him, and the expression of whose face was that of 
 a person who expects something to happen. 
 
 Dumesnil considered a moment, and answered: 
 
 " Well, yes, we are through with you at least for 
 the present. At the same time, do not forget that you 
 are an assassin." 
 
 Then, elevating his voice, he called, sternly: 
 
 "Enter, my friends!" 
 
 The door was instantly thrown open from without, 
 and two gens d'armes with muskets stalked into the
 
 242 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 room. Advancing at once to D'Artivan, each one laid 
 his left hand upon his shoulder, and said, brusquely: 
 
 "We want you, Monsieur!" 
 
 D'Artivan reeled for an instant as from a blow, a 
 ghastly tint overspread his distorted face. But, recov- 
 ering himself, he cried out, in accents of rage: 
 
 "Ah, devils, you have betrayed me! " 
 
 His eyes roved insanely about the apartment, as if 
 seeking some opening besides the door which the sur- 
 geon had just closed. Two heavy curtains of red velvet 
 were suspended across what appeared to be a little 
 recess, at the farther end of the room. Toward this, 
 with a half-formed hope, the murderer sprang, before 
 the movement was suspected, and in a twinkling he- dis- 
 appeared behind the drapery. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, he is gone!" shotted the astonished 
 Souchon, rushing toward the recess madly; and parting 
 the curtains, he bent over a balustrade. 
 
 Dumesnil and the gens d'armes were at his side in a 
 second, and all three stopped at the landing of a narrow 
 stairway which descended into some dark passage below. 
 
 Their eyes sought Souchon's. '' Ah, yes ! " cried he, 
 and plunged down the stairs. The others hurried after 
 him. At the bottom he turned to the left, pushed open 
 a door and vanished. When the rest arrived at the spot, 
 they found a door on either side of the bottom landing. 
 They opened the one on the right, and stepped out into 
 a court at the rear of which was a low wall. Dumesnil 
 glanced at the wall, and muttered : 
 
 "The scoundrel has escaped." 
 
 At that instant, and while he was gloomily returning 
 into the house, with the gens d'armes at his heels, there 
 came to them the clamor of voices. The noise proceeded 
 from the front of the house. Dumesnil threw open the 
 door through which Souchon had passed, and the three
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 243 
 
 men found themselves in the room in which Clarise had 
 sat watching the corpse of Paul Cambray. The first 
 object upon which their eyes rested was D'Artivan. He 
 was lying at full length upon his back, before the door 
 leading into the front or main hall of the mansion. 
 There was no movement of his body, and absolutely no 
 color in his face. 
 
 But there were other occupants of the room who 
 were not so passive. Clarise stood by the side of her 
 chair, holding her black veil back from her pale and 
 tear-stained face, and gazing stonily at the figure of her 
 lover's murderer. Doctor Souchon, standing near Clar- 
 ise, with his hand resting lightly on a little wooden 
 knob protruding from the wall of the entry, was also 
 gazing at D'Artivan; but as the others entered the room 
 he moved away, saying, quietly: 
 
 "The knob of that door is copper metal, and a wire 
 connects it with my battery. I was just in time to send 
 a charge into him as he grasped the knob. Take your 
 prisoner, my friends." 
 
 The gens d'armes were bewildered. They regarded 
 the Doctor with an expression of fear. 
 
 "This man is the fiend himself!" whispered one to 
 the other. 
 
 "Parbleu, ves," returned the other; "let us get out 
 of here." 
 
 D'Artivan was opening his eyes. He rolled over on 
 his side, and scrambled to his feet, looking confused and 
 scared. The gens d'armes went up to him, again took 
 him by the shoulders, and, shaking him roughly, said: 
 
 "Come you! It is only a few toises to the Con- 
 ciergerie, and we are in a hurry." 
 
 And locking their arms is his, while Souchon opened 
 the door (which they refused to touch), they disappeared 
 with the prisoner down the corridor.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MIRABEAU'S VISIT. 
 
 The wonderful influence which Helene Sainte Maur 
 had established over Mirabeau proceeded not merely 
 from physical but psychical causes. The occult power 
 of which we have heretofore spoken had been brought 
 to bear upon the brain and mind of the great orator, to 
 subserve a special purpose. The influence she thus 
 acquired was not ephemeral; it remained with him even 
 when he was absent from her, even while he was in the 
 midst of those stormy combats which threatened per- 
 haps his own ruin, and which ended, as much through 
 the subtle exercise of her power as through any other 
 medium, in the downfall or the annihilation of his 
 adversaries. 
 
 It is the purpose of this chapter to explain the singu- 
 lar phenomenon, as Mirabeau's friends termed it when 
 commenting upon the docility of this lion of the tribune 
 in the presence of Helene Sainte Maur. 
 
 In revealing this secret of the boudoir of the great 
 Parisienne who has been given so honorable a place in this 
 historic story, we do not wish it to be understood that 
 there was anything in the least culpable or even repre- 
 hensible in her purpose, or in the means by which she 
 sought to accomplish it. This peculiar power which 
 she possessed was never used by her for purposes of 
 evil; it is even doubtful, indeed, if she would have been 
 capable of exercising it nefariously. That it is a terrible 
 power is conceded now by the scientific world; that he 
 who possesses it may use it for evil, the author at least, is 
 
 244
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 245 
 
 gravely doubtful, having seen both operator and sub- 
 jects a number of times during the exhibition of this 
 wonderful psychological phenomenon, and given both 
 the most searching scrutiny and study. 
 
 The last day of February was over. A black 
 mountain had loomed up in the west, obscuring the 
 setting sun and deepening the sullen twilight. Night 
 had descended, but through its sombre shade the 
 mountain still displayed to the east its frowning profile. 
 This mountain had a voice, and as this voice issued 
 from its eyrie it spread over the restless Capitol of 
 Pluto, the Paris of yesterday, first with sighs, then with 
 groans, and finally with a clamor at once deafening and 
 appalling. 
 
 The mountain was a cloud, the voice was the wind. 
 The two were about to hold a carnival, and the one 
 with its threatening frown, the other with its warning 
 moan, were driving the belated people off the streets. 
 
 At eight o'clock the Faubourg St. Germain was with- 
 out an echo save the echoes of the wind. The meagre 
 lamps at the corners of the streets drove the shadows 
 toward the centres of the gloomy squares, where they 
 solidified and remained impenetrable. The fierce gusts 
 assailed the chimneys of the tall houses, and halloed 
 down their sooty depths, twisted the trees and snapped 
 their branches, and then scurried off down the deserted 
 streets, like the gamins of St. Antoine, in search of more 
 adventures. As its wrath increased the wind became 
 more violent, and none but a giant in bulk and strength 
 could have breasted it. 
 
 But precisely such a personage was just now entering 
 the square at the south en.d of the Pont Archevique. He 
 was enveloped in a long cloak, which the blast seemed 
 determined to strip from his broad shoulders. 
 
 " Pardieu," muttered the man, as he muffled his face
 
 246 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 with the ample folds for the fifteenth time, "folk lore has 
 it that the devil is in the middle of every whirlwind. 
 Well, peste, I believe it ! " 
 
 At the corner of the boulevard he turned toward the 
 left, strode along to the centre of the black shadows 
 which completely swallowed him up and crossed to the 
 other side of the avenue. Here he stopped; surveyed 
 the facade of a spacious stone chateau whose windows 
 emitted a golden light, ascended the broad steps, and 
 sounded a bronze knocker. 
 
 The door was immediately opened; and, as the man 
 entered the wide and glowing hall whose cheery mouth 
 laughed into the night without for an instant, a charm- 
 ing voice cried: 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur Mirabeau, how did you get a fiacre 
 on such a night as this?'' 
 
 " Fiacre indeed," grumbled the visitor, as he removed 
 his heavy cloak; " I rode on the devil's back." 
 
 "Oh, Heaven," murmured Clarise, for it was she, 
 and the chateau was that of her mistress; "does the 
 evil one then visit Paradise?" and Clarise looked at 
 the colossus with a little shudder. 
 
 "What is that, midget?" demanded he, shaking his 
 large frame with a loud cough. 
 
 " Ah, you have forgotten that you said to me the 
 last time you came: ' Mon Dieu, Clarise, I have just 
 come from Inferno, and here I am in Paradise/ '' 
 
 "True, true, my child," responded he, while he 
 adjusted his cravat, ran his white fingers through his 
 thick hair, and smiled at her, no longer ruffled either in 
 temper or attire. "I meant the Assembly, that is 
 Inferno. But I, I am not Lucifer. My mot was a bad 
 one, I withdraw it. No, I ran away from the devil, 
 and here I am in Paradise, of course." 
 
 "Very well, Monsieur le Count; you have an answer
 
 HELENE SAINTE MALR. 247 
 
 for everything," returned Clarise, with a pleasant nod 
 of concession. Then she led him into a softly lighted 
 boudoir, announcing, as she threw open the door: 
 
 "The Count Mirabeau, Mademoiselle." 
 
 Mirabeau advanced but two paces into the room 
 and stood still. 
 
 What he saw was a vision. Scores of wax candles 
 threw their mellow beams upon every object from mar- 
 ble and from bronze sconces, from silver brackets, can- 
 delabra and statuettes; costly paintings covered the 
 walls over antique tapestry; the richly frescoed ceiling 
 glowed with a harmony of tints; a sea-coal fire burned 
 in a hollowed chimney rimmed with carven oak. 
 
 But the eyes of Mirabeau were not resting on any of 
 these charming objects. Under his thick eyebrows they 
 gleamed with all the eagerness of one who is permitted 
 to gaze over the barred gates of Heaven. It was the 
 fair sorceress he saw, she who had drawn him by the 
 omnipotence of a glance from a night session of his col- 
 leagues; for whom he had disregarded three appoint- 
 ments with as many pretty bonbonnieres. That very 
 afternoon Helene had passed him in front of the Hotel 
 de Ville, she in her phaeton and he rooted to the side- 
 walk gazing at her. She had drawn up to the curb, 
 bowed to him and said: 
 
 " I shall expect you at my hotel at eight o'clock this 
 evening. Do not fail to come." 
 
 Then her eyes had looked into his for a single 
 instant, and she was gone. 
 
 He had thought of nothing else after that; and now 
 he was here, in her presence, a votary at a shrine. 
 
 There she lay, upon a divan of blue velvet, gently 
 waving a jeweled fan, her eyes half closed, a picture of 
 cushioned indolence. 
 
 And while this lion contemplated the vision, he for-
 
 248 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 got his triumphs, his dangers, his ambition and France. 
 
 And yet, only that day, in a battle of words, he had 
 said: 
 
 "I belong only to my country. Let others seek alli- 
 ances with her enemies; let others forget their pledges to 
 the people, if they will; but I, Mirabeau, will denounce 
 them and defy them." 
 
 Only that day he had stood between a gulf and a 
 rock. In the morning he was at the brink of the gulf; 
 at midday he had climbed the rock. 
 
 What a retrospect was his! 
 
 Standing there in the midst of that silken ease, mute 
 in the presence of a woman, muffling his heart that it 
 may not beat too loudly, we leave him for an hour to 
 the soft influences of beauty and the preparation of a 
 scene we are shortly to witness. 
 
 The colossal figure of this man had but just risen 
 above the anarchic gloom. He had been made the 
 leader in the National Assembly; he was the recognized 
 champion of order. At that moment he was the arbiter 
 of the fate of his party, if not of Paris. 
 
 But Mirabeau's power was not secure. He had 
 quarreled with Robespierre, and Robespierre had been 
 made public accuser in the courts. Robespierre was an 
 accident, a phenomenon of the Revolution. He was a 
 monster spawned by the putrid society of the French 
 capital, that society which mistook the phosphorus on 
 a corpse for the star of hope. Only a little while before 
 it had mistaken the pedantic phrases of the Girondists 
 for ideas; later on it would mistake anarchy for liberty. 
 
 Within the ill-shaped and puny body of Robespierre 
 beat the heart of a tiger. Slaughter was his synonym 
 for pleasure, and he reveled in it. It was his remedy 
 for doubt, and he applied it; the guillotine cut all knots 
 for him. This was his only mental resource; with the
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 249 
 
 guillotine he solved all problems. He was a coward by 
 instinct; circumstances and opportunity made him a 
 bully. 
 
 Robespierre was the natural enemy of Mirabeau,and 
 even now he was plotting his death. But a greater 
 reaper than Robespierre was afield, whetting the scythe 
 of fate for the one, the knife of vengeance for the other. 
 
 All this was fact. Much of it Mirabeau knew, much 
 of it he feared. And yet, as he stood there in the 
 presence of Helene Sainte Maur, he forgot all, he feared 
 nothing and hoped everything. Hope mounts upon 
 success, and Mirabeau had been successful. 
 
 Mirabeau had made frequent visits to the chateau 
 during that turbulent month of February, and every 
 time he had issued from its doors his face had worn a 
 bewildered expression, but at the same time a look of 
 triumph. 
 
 Let us return now to the boudoir and penetrate this 
 mystery.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 SECRETS OF THE BOUDOIR. 
 
 An antique clock on an onyx mantel shelf chimed 
 the hour of ten. Utter silence pervaded the salon ; it 
 was still bathed in the golden light of the wax candles. 
 Their perfumed stems and the hot breath they exhaled 
 had made the air languish. 
 
 The two occupants of the room were seated face to 
 face ; she leaning forward in her chair, he sitting bolt 
 upright and stiff in his. Her eyes were fixed upon Mir- 
 abeau's with a concentration of energy impossible to 
 depict, to describe ; while he returned this powerful 
 gaze with a questioning stare. Thus the two had 
 remained for a full quarter of an hour. 
 
 Gradually, the stare of Mirabeau changed to an 
 expression of vacuity ; the eyelids twitched, drooped, 
 then became fixed ; the dilation of the pupils had also 
 ceased and they had begun to contract. The motion of 
 his body caused by his heavy breathing had subsided, 
 and his whole form settled directly into a rigidity 
 resembling death or profound coma. 
 
 The moment Mirabeau had reached this stage of the 
 mesmeric state (for such it was), Helene rose quietly, 
 paced the length of the room several times, and then, 
 returning to him, for some minutes contemplated him. 
 
 Her attitude now was majestic. It was that of one 
 endowed with supernatural power, with transcendent 
 mental attributes. The expression of her face was that 
 of a divinity before an awful penetralium. 
 
 200
 
 HEI/ENE SAINTE MAUR. 251 
 
 The heart whose impulses she was about to direct, 
 the soul whose secrets she was about to read, were the 
 heart and soul of a man who was rapidly approaching 
 national greatness ; whose sonorous voice impulsed the 
 hearts and stirred the souls of three-quarters of a mil- 
 lion of his countrymen, and rang like a tocsin around 
 the rim of France. 
 
 And this woman at this moment was the master of 
 this great heart, of this great soul whose secret she was 
 preparing to lay bare, whose will she was preparing to 
 subdue to her own. 
 
 Of what use would she make of those secrets? How 
 would she obtain them ? To what end would she bend 
 his will ? 
 
 Let us wait. 
 
 " Mirabeau ! " 
 
 This name, which thrilled all France, came from the 
 scarlet lips as though breathed by the wind. The voice 
 sounded distant, impressive; the tone of it was weird, 
 commanding. 
 
 Mirabeau heard; his face, from which all color had 
 receded, assumed the expression of an anxious listener, 
 of one who waits for a command that he may obey. 
 
 , She came a step closer to him, and as she did so his 
 eyes seemed to retreat from her. His hands rested 
 rigidly on the cushioned arms of the chair in which he 
 sat, and on one of them she laid one of her own, a fair 
 and perfect hand and firm and steady as his had 
 been. The contrast between the two was wonderful; it 
 suggested the contact of a brown eagle and a snow- 
 white dove. 
 
 But here the dove was master of the eagle. 
 
 And now, this luxurious chamber, with all its dainty 
 apppintments, suddenly became without any material
 
 252 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 change or transformation an Inquisitorium; but its 
 director was a beautiful woman. 
 
 " Mirabeau ! " 
 
 Again she called him, and this time her voice was 
 full and calm and measured. At the first sound of his 
 name he had started, as though his soul had been called 
 back from a distance. Now his eyelids quivered; but 
 the eyes remained contracted, and without expression 
 save that of uneasiness. 
 
 " Mirabeau, you are a strong man, but a weak one 
 also." 
 
 The massive bosom rose, and a sigh escaped through 
 the parted lips, but nothing more. 
 
 " Yes, you are very weak. You trifle with your 
 opportunities; you consume precious time in foolish 
 amours, while your enemies spend theirs in plotting 
 against France, and against you. At this moment there 
 is a ballet dancer at the Faydeau gnawing her fan with 
 vexation because you did not escort her to the play- 
 house to-night, as you promised. She has often laughed 
 at you behind that fan, although you gave it to her. In 
 the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, looking up at your 
 shaded windows, while she drives back and forth before 
 
 your house, is the young widow of C , whom you 
 
 allowed to be sent to the block only a month ago. She 
 is in the pay of Robespierre; and, besides, she hates 
 you. But you had promised her this evening, and an 
 empty loge. awaits you two at the Lyrique. You admit 
 all this, do you not?" 
 
 The colorless lips twitched, and Mirabeau answered, 
 hesitatingly: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Helene resumed: 
 
 "You spend money that you can not spare in buying 
 seats at the Opera for worthless creatures (of whom I
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 253 
 
 have named only two; though, alas, they are many !), 
 but you do not go there yourself because you have only 
 desired to get them out of the way that you may enjoy 
 yourself securely in the society of Dulagre's sister 
 (another paid agent !) at the theatre first, and after- 
 wards at the Restaurant Nouvelle. You admit this, 
 also, do you not ?" 
 
 Again the confession, hesitating and slow, 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 " You are, therefore, sensual violently so. You are 
 sentimental foolishly so." 
 
 Mirabeau's chin sunk uoon his breast, but he was 
 silent. 
 
 "But, after all, you love!" 
 
 The massive head reared itself, in the manner it was 
 often wont to do in the Assembly. A beam of light 
 radiated the powerful features, and Mirabeau murmured 
 faintly. 
 
 "I love you, only you my God, yes! " 
 
 " But you brought sorrow to your wife, and she 
 parted from you." 
 
 " I loved her not, nor she me. Besides, my family 
 caused it all. It is passe, let it rest. I love you." 
 
 " You love me. Yes, that is true. Well, you wish 
 t'.iat I should respect your love, do you not?" 
 
 "Ah-h! Why not?" 
 
 "Then you must cease your amours. I do not wish 
 you, my friend, to waste your time, nay, risk your life, 
 as you are certainly doing, by involving yourself with 
 these frivolous and treacherous beings. Besides, do you 
 not know that in this un'happy Paris one day is a year?" 
 
 Mirabeau groaned; his face became troubled. 
 
 "You feel this to be solemnly true, awfully true. 
 Then remember it." 
 
 An impressive silence followed. Helene regarded
 
 254 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 him earnestly. Shadows were flitting over the homely 
 face of Mirabeau, but his soul was distant. Her voice 
 recalled it. 
 
 "Mirabeau, you are frightfully ambitious." 
 
 Mirabeau's features on the instant grew stern, the 
 expression haughty and at the same time wistful. 
 
 "Well, you have succeeded in awing the pigmies; 
 but you frighten your enemies, and that is dangerous. 
 Do not frighten cowards too badly, it is not wise. 
 Besides, these cowardly enemies are themselves- ambi- 
 tious also. You must therefore mount quickly; your 
 progress is not rapid enough. It is true you have risen 
 like a star; you must henceforth move like a comet. Do 
 you comprehend all this?" 
 
 " Yes," responded he, with feverish intensity. 
 
 Another interval of silence, and then 
 
 "What shall I do?" whispered Mirabeau. 
 
 Helene leaned over him; placed her face close to his, 
 looked down into his shrinking eyes, and said: 
 
 " I will tell you. You must prepare to denounce the 
 Assembly!" 
 
 A hoarse cry escaped the pale lips of the great leader. 
 His form remained as rigid as ever; but the workings of 
 his features betrayed the emotion he felt. His soul was 
 being unveiled. 
 
 Helene continued. Her voice was coldly distinct, its 
 tones concentrated. Her eyes, as she watched his face, 
 were like diamond points. 
 
 " Listen carefully, and reflect. You have told me, 
 again and again, that you love me." 
 
 " It is true, it is true," he muttered. 
 
 "Be silent. Others have told me that, and I did not 
 believe them, or I did not care. But you, you are 
 capable of loving, and you are capable of giving great
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 255 
 
 proofs of your love. Well, I shall exact them, do you 
 hear?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, exact them," exclaimed Mirabeau, fever- 
 ishly. 
 
 "And when you shall have given such proofs, I will 
 reward you, with my love, if I can; and if my heart will 
 not consent to that, then in a different but a noble way." 
 
 "How, how?" muttered he. 
 
 "Your ambition shall be satisfied." 
 
 "Ah, my ambition." 
 
 "Mirabeau, you call yourself a Republican. Well, 
 you are not a Republican, my friend." 
 
 Mirabeau started violently, as though he had been 
 suddenly betrayed. 
 
 " Your sympathies are with this poor Louis, and still 
 more with his unfortunate Queen, whom France insults 
 and Austria deserts. Well, they are prisoners, and they 
 must be fre they are in the hand: of regicides, and 
 they must escape. There is but one man in all France 
 able and willing to effect this. That man is Mirabeau." 
 
 "Ah-h!" 
 
 Mirabeau could utter nothing more than this; his 
 emotions suffocated him. 
 
 " Yes, it is Mirabeau. And when this noble duty is 
 performed, Europe will applaud you. You will be 
 invited to every capital but one, and of that one you 
 will be the master!" 
 
 "Ha! I do not understand." 
 
 "You shall be Prime Minister of France!" 
 
 "Ah my dream! " cried Mirabeau, breathlessly. 
 
 His great frame began to shake now, and the muffled 
 throbbings of his heart seemed to rend him within. 
 
 Helene resumed: 
 
 " The nobles of France, who left Paris after the fall 
 of the Bastille and after the removal of the King and
 
 256 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 Court from Versailles, have implored England and Aus- 
 tria to intervene and save the royal family. They have 
 failed; but they have been promised succor for dying 
 France, if the King comes to them. It is because of 
 these promises that six hundred of these nobles are now 
 stationed along the German frontier, and are waiting 
 for the King to cross the border. Through me they 
 look to you, Mirabeau, to bring or send him to them, 
 and you must do it. Promise me that you will." 
 
 Helene had finished. Motionless she waited for his 
 answer; and it was minutes before it came. 
 
 Mirabeau was undergoing a struggle with himself, a 
 struggle concealed from every eye but God's. Each 
 loud beat of his heart, terribly audible, followed the 
 measured tick of the clock. 
 
 At last he spoke: 
 
 " It is enough. I will do it! " 
 
 The beautiful face that bent over him raised itself, 
 and over it spread a halo that seemed borrowed from 
 Heaven. 
 
 Gliding toward a small cabinet, Helene took from 
 it a paper upon which some lines were written, glanced 
 intently at them, then silently beckoned to Mirabeau, 
 whose eyes had followed her as a slave follows a master. 
 He rose from his chair at once, like an automaton, 
 approached her, and stood passively at her side. 
 
 "Sign!" she commanded, placing the desk before 
 him, and thrusting a pen into his hand. 
 
 With mechanical precision he did so ; and the faint 
 sound of the pen as it moved over the parchment was to 
 Helene's ears like the whisper of Fate. 
 
 When she lifted the paper again, it bore in bold 
 characters this name: 
 
 (Signed) " Gabriel Honore Mirabeau."
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " I LOVE THEE, AND I LEAVE THEE." 
 
 The last days of March were passing. 
 
 For a long time Mirabeau's labors had been super- 
 human, beyond the prolonged endurance of even his 
 massive structure. They were rapidly drifting him on 
 to death. 
 
 After he was made President of the National 
 Assembly he worked at a prodigious rate. He was fond 
 of seeing in the Moniteur the encomiums that even the 
 Jacobins bestowed upon his admirable, bold and impar- 
 tial management of that most difficult of all legislative 
 bodies to control. But even fame pays a penalty per- 
 haps the greatest. Mirabeau's health began to give 
 way, he was visibly failing. He had said to Helene: 
 
 " I am dying by inches; I am being consumed in a 
 slow fire." 
 
 " Could it be otherwise ? " returned she. " You take 
 no rest from seven in the morning until midnight. You 
 expend twice as much in your hours of action as you 
 recoup during your hours' of repose, both of nerve 
 and brain. You live too luxuriously and keep up a 
 perpetual ebullition. Sometimes, recently, your sight 
 has almost failed you. See, now, how your cheeks are 
 scarified by the leeches you have applied to them to 
 draw the blood away ! It is all owing to your excesses." 
 
 Mirabeau had pressed her hand and, with a tear 
 starting in his eye, murmured, huskily: 
 
 " If I had only had such a mentor as you when I
 
 258 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 was twenty \" and had hurried away from her to conceal 
 a sob. 
 
 Yes, his life had been misspent; ruled forever by his 
 passions, as it had been said by his warmest friend, he 
 was a wreck at last. 
 
 One day, before starting to the Hotel de Ville, he 
 bethought him of a question which had perplexed him the 
 day before. Thomas Paine, the upstart American who 
 had received favors from Louis XVI., and afterwards, 
 when the King was about to be hurried away from 
 Versailles to a prison in the Tuilleries, had read an 
 inflammatory paper in the Assembly against his bene- 
 factor, had said to Mirabeau: 
 
 " Will you serve France as a republic?" 
 
 Mirabeau was not quick as a debater; and he had 
 answered: 
 
 "To-morrow I will answer you." 
 
 Just now he remembered his promise, and he knew 
 that the adventurer would remind him of it, with some 
 sardonic allusion to his title of Count. He dragged him- 
 self to Helene's door to consult her. As he reached the 
 steps he sank down on them in a swoon. He was taken 
 into the house, and laid upon a couch. Restoratives were 
 applied, and he revived. When he opened his eyes he 
 saw Helene, and by her side Clarise, regarding him 
 with mournful looks of pity and solicitude. His eves 
 brightened, and the color came slowly back into the 
 homely but majestic face. He held out his hand; and 
 as Helene took it with a kindly pressure of her own, he 
 murmured: 
 
 " I love you and 1 leave you." 
 
 Then, in spite of remonstrances, entreaties and warn- 
 ings, with which she tried to induce him to remain and 
 rest, he staggered forth into the street, climbed into her 
 carriage, which she ha' hastily summoned, and rode
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 259 
 
 straight to the Assembly. He had forgotten the ques- 
 tion, but he remembered it at the last moment of his 
 life, and then it was answered. 
 
 He addressed the Assembly very briefly; and then, 
 with a faltering step, he left it and his enemies forever. 
 
 One week after this incident there was straw in the 
 Chaussee d'Antin, in front of Mirabeau's house. Within 
 (he closed doors which had opened to the magnates of 
 the Revolution so often the colossus of the tribune lay 
 dying. The sunken features, the collapsed frame were 
 but a spectral likeness of himself. 
 
 At his bedside, with a scared look on his face, knelt 
 Cabanis, a young and inexperienced physician whom 
 Mirabeau kept near him, for whom he had conceived a 
 singular partiality and would not displace. But Cab- 
 anis could do nothing for his patron. Mirabeau had 
 just made some communication to him; he rose and 
 beckoning to a nurse, whispered a few words to her. 
 The woman stifled a sob and left the chamber. The 
 feverish eyes of the dying man followed her. As she 
 disappeared, he seemed to sink into a reverie, in the 
 midst of which his lips moved, and he murmured: 
 
 "The grave! ah, that is a junction where pride and 
 humility lie down together." 
 
 An hour crept by, with no sound to divert his solemn 
 reflections; then the muffled roll of wheels in the street 
 dispelled them. His face became illumined. A light 
 step came nearer and nearer to the door, and he mut- 
 
 :d: 
 
 "She is here!" 
 
 Then the door opened softly and slowly, and Helene 
 Sainte Muur entered, robed from head to foot in gray. 
 She approached the bed, and, without speaking, took 
 his hand. But he drew lu-rs, to his lips and pressed 
 them against it with feverish eagerness. She did not
 
 260 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 withdraw her hand, but bent over him tenderly, while 
 her compassionate eyes seemed to flood his pallid feat- 
 ures with a light not of earth. 
 
 " Mirabeau," she said, softly, " do you know your 
 condition?" 
 
 "I am dying," replied he, with perfect calmness. 
 And, after a moment's pause, he added, passionately: 
 
 " So is France." 
 
 "No," said Helene, "France is only bankrupt." 
 
 "Bankrupt, yes/' assented Mirabeau; "but bankrupt 
 in more than purse or credit. She is bankrupt in mor- 
 als, in faith above all, in men." 
 
 He stopped speaking, only that he might regain 
 breath; and then he recommenced: 
 
 "Had I lived, I might have saved the Monarchy. 
 Ah, I had forgotten what I went to you to ask, that day 
 when I fell like a clod which I shall be directly." 
 
 Then he repeated the question put to him by the 
 infidel. Helene's eyes kindled. 
 
 "The Monarchy will pass away," she said, "and 
 more than one form of government will follow it before 
 France will know peace. But the crimes France is 
 committing now will not be expiated within a century. 
 Well, on the hundredth anniversary of the murder of Louis 
 XVI. which his enemies are plotting, and, perhaps, may 
 consummate there will be another revolution in France! 
 Whether that revolution will be like this, a bloody one, 
 or not, will^depend, as it has in this case, on the finan- 
 cial state of the country. At least there will be a rev- 
 olution, and it will be the last great retributive blow at 
 France for the crimes she meditates to-day." 
 
 Mirabeau watched her inspired countenance, awed 
 and silent. She appeared to him at that moment as an 
 unreality, come to utter a terrible prophecy; and he 
 believed it.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 261 
 
 Helene now reverted to his condition: 
 
 " Do you regret leaving this troubled earth, my 
 friend?" asked she, with a saint-like expression on her 
 pure face. 
 
 "N-o," faltered Mirabeau. But suddenly his mind 
 turned to the scenes he had left in the tumultuous 
 Assembly. 
 
 "It is moving toward chaos," said he; "and it was I, 
 I alone, who could have prevented anarchy. Yes," he 
 went on, with growing excitement, " the Monarchy 
 approaches an abyss. It must fall, and Robespierre 
 will be Dictator of France. 
 
 " My friend," returned Helene, slowly emphasizing 
 her speech, " Robespierre can never be anything more 
 than he is an incendiary and assassin. He will fall 
 when the revolution ceases. No, you will have a dif- 
 ferent successor than that; one who will quell this fear- 
 ful strife. But he will be a man of the sword." 
 
 " And this man ? " demanded Mirabeau, breathlessly. 
 
 " Bonaparte." 
 
 "Ah," exclaimed the dying leader, "I see it now. 
 Yes, you are right; that man's shadow has fallen upon 
 everything. His very obscurity helps him on towards 
 the place he covets. I have met him, conversed with him, 
 marveled at what I saw in him. Yes, this Bonaparte 
 will soon command the armies," 
 
 " He will be the master of France, at least," said 
 Helene, solemnly. 
 
 But Mirabeau could speak no more; he scarcely 
 heard this last and startling prophecy. His soul was 
 passing while she uttered it. She saw it taking its still 
 flight, and her tresses brushed his pale lips like the 
 caress of a seraph's wing. Thrilled by this last joy, 
 his glazing eyes flashed for an instant, and Mirabeau 
 was no more.
 
 262 HELENE SA1XTE MAUR. 
 
 Thus, consumed by internal fires, fell this Achilles, 
 on the very threshhold of the ''reign of terror." 
 
 Mirabeau was a man of extraordinary versatility. 
 Malasherbes said of him: "He can descend with the 
 greatest facility into Inferno, and rise without effort 
 to the brow of Olympus. He exists only on the one or 
 in the other." 
 
 Necker had said: " He possesses those valuable 
 traits which are necessary in a money-making jour- 
 nalist he is never at a loss to construct fables, which 
 he solemnly announces as truths." 
 
 Mirabeau's opinions of his own capabilities were 
 overwhelming. It was said of him that if any one had 
 offered him the elements of a Chinese Grammar, he 
 would haveattempted a treatiseon the Chinese language. 
 
 He fondled the brains of men of talent, and set them 
 to work for himself. He assimilated their ideas like a 
 boa constrictor 1 , and absorbed their energies like a 
 sponge. But he was no idler himself; he worked with 
 a sort of ferocity. 
 
 Mirabeau bore a bad reputation among the nobility, 
 although he belonged to that order, and was fond of his 
 title, which he bore even when no other titled person in 
 Paris dared as much. His own family quarreled with 
 him, accusing him with having plebian tastes. They 
 were wrong, however, for he had decidedly " aristo- 
 cratical tendencies." It was only from self-interest that 
 he "affected Republican principles/' something which 
 he knew did not in fact at that time exist in France. 
 
 In private conversation he was amiable and engag- 
 ing; invariably leading off with a topic which he knew 
 would personally interest his company. 
 
 He had an unfortunate penchant for the society of 
 actresses, and his amours with them were notorious. 
 
 He was imprisoned at Vincennes for three years; and
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 263 
 
 during that gloomy period he changed his " religion " 
 three times. He was proud of his ugliness. He wore 
 his hair like an enormous bush. Helene once asked 
 him: 
 
 " Why do you endeavor to make your head appear 
 larger than your body? " 
 
 " What," he replied, affecting surprise at her want of 
 penetration; "do you not understand? Well, then, I 
 will tell you; when I shake my terrible locks, no one 
 dares to interrupt me." 
 
 Often when he called at the chateau, he would square 
 himself before an immense mirror in the drawing-room, 
 while waiting for Helene, and go through the motions 
 of a speaker, beginning with "The Count de Mirabeau 
 will answer that question." And thus Helene would 
 find him, often stopping on the threshhold to watch and 
 to listen in amused silence. 
 
 Mirabeau's valet de chambre, Teutch, had been a 
 smuggler, and was said to have committed unheard-of 
 deeds of daring and outlawry before he reformed. It 
 amused Mirabeau, however, to kick and thump this ter- 
 rible fellow, when irritated; and so accustomed did 
 Teutch finally become to this rough usage that he 
 really felt aggrieved if it was not administered. 
 
 But here, on the couch of death at last, lay all that 
 was left of this eccentric genius; verily, a dead giant. 
 
 And while the great bell in the tower of Notre Dame 
 sent its mighty throbs over weeping Paris, a woman in 
 a gray serge robe stood over the rigid form, and mused 
 aloud: 
 
 " I could have made you the greatest man in 
 France! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE CAFE MILITAIRE. 
 
 One evening, abotit a fortnight previous to the death 
 of Mirabeau, at one of the tables of the Cafe Militaire, 
 a fashionable resort of officers whose means permitted 
 the indulgence of an expensive cuisine, two young men 
 of the National Guard were finishing their last bottle of 
 wine. Had it been their first instead of their last, they 
 would have noticed a stranger sitting at a table by him- 
 self at their left, and conveniently near enough to enable 
 him to hear anything they might say. Indeed, the man- 
 ner of this stranger, as well as his attitude, indicated 
 that he was deliberately listening to their conversation, 
 and that he had not listened long before he became pro- 
 foundly interested in it. 
 
 This inquisitive person was none other than Gas- 
 coigne, the friend and factotum of the journalist Dude- 
 vant until the latter's tragical death, when he became 
 his successor in Robespierre's employ. 
 
 Gascoigne had sauntered into the cafe behind the 
 officers, from the sheer impulse of habit, the habit which 
 induces one of those hungry dogs which nobody owns 
 to follow smelling at the heels of any passing wayfarer, 
 possibly in the vague hope that some crumbs may fall 
 from the man's pockets. Gascoigne, at least, hoped 
 that the officers might drop something which would be 
 useful to his master; and in this case he was not disap- 
 pointed. Indeed, he was richly rewarded, after an 
 hour's patient waiting. 
 
 264
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 265 
 
 The volubility of the officers had increased with each 
 bottle they drank ; and by the time they began to dis- 
 cuss the third, every one except themselves and the 
 attentive and patient Gascoigne had left the cafe. The 
 sly journalist, never lacking in subterfuges, had called 
 in a thick voice for a bottle of white wine. When it 
 was brought he nodded over it in a way that would have 
 deceived the shrewdest. All this time his large ears 
 were doing the drinking while his lips scarcely touched 
 the wine. 
 
 "Yes, yes," one of the officers was saying. "I tell 
 you some queer things are going on ; things that the 
 public knows nothing about. As for me, I manage to 
 keep pretty well informed." 
 
 " Why, as to that," rejoined the other, not willing to 
 appear as ignorant as "the public," and tossing off his 
 glass with a gesture of self-complacency, "I can see 
 through a mill-stone with a hole in it, myself. Apropos 
 of news, do you know that Mirabeau is in a fair way to 
 >rne the greatest man in France?" 
 
 "Indeed. Some people think he is that already," 
 rved the first speaker, drily. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he has his devotees, certainly; but he will 
 !) Prime Minister. What do you say to that, eh ?" 
 
 "Ah, that explains something," said the first, as if 
 
 iking to himself. 
 
 "Of what are you thinking?" 
 
 "Oh, of those secret conferences which Mirabeau 
 holds with the Queen so frequently." 
 
 "Aha, you are then aware of those pretty meetings ; 
 but of course you are, since every one in Paris knows all 
 about them." 
 
 " True ; but I have just found out the meaning of 
 them that is, recently. Some weeks ago I had no 
 opinion at all ; but, as I have remarked, things have
 
 266 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 happened lately that are very interesting, and what you 
 tell me of Mirabeau gives me the final clue." 
 
 " Powf ! If you have only just found out the mean- 
 ing of Mirabeau's visits to the Queen, you must have 
 been deaf and blind. Any ass can understand them." 
 
 " Oh, you are wrong, my excellent friend, if you 
 imagine that Mirabeau is in love with the Queen. No, 
 nothing of the kind ; they are the asses who say that he 
 loves her, I tell you." 
 
 " The devil! Do you mean to say tnat he does not?" 
 
 " Precisely. Mirabeau is madly in love with that 
 paragon of loveliness and virtue, Helene Sainte Maur." 
 
 "Ha, ha!" shouted the other, intensely amused at 
 this statement; "imagine a lion changed into a donkey! 
 That is exactly the metamorphosis you will see in Mira- 
 beau's case. But are you sure of what you say? " 
 
 "Absolutely, I tell you." 
 
 "Then, how do you explain his visits to the Queen?" 
 
 " Will you swear that you will not divulge a word 
 of what I tell you?" 
 
 " Mon Dieu! yes, since your manner says, 'prepare 
 to be astounded.'" 
 
 "Well, listen: 
 
 "Mirabeau is now in constant communication with 
 the Queen. The Queen has at last persuaded the King 
 to act. He is to take her and the rest of his family to 
 St. Cloud to spend Easter. Well, everything is 
 arranged for a very different journey, I can assure you." 
 
 "What! do you mean to tell me that there is a plot 
 to take the King out of France?" 
 
 "Wait. All the details are in my possession. This 
 is the way of it: 
 
 "You know, do you not, that I was honored with an 
 invitation to the reception given by Mademoiselle Sainte 
 Maur the last one? "
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 267 
 
 "Peste, yes, you lucky dog." 
 
 " Lucky in a double sense, as you will see directly. 
 Well, I went alone; and, not being very well acquainted 
 with those present, I was left to amuse myself by 
 myself in the best way I could. Sacre! I was deucedly 
 interested before I left the chateau." 
 
 "Ah, you must have seen Mirabeau making love to 
 Mademoiselle, then?" 
 
 " Not at all. Wait. In the course of the evening I 
 strayed into a little room which communicated by a 
 door with what I suppose was a cabinet or study. The 
 room I entered was crowded with pretty bijouterie, and 
 I fell to examining and admiring the various articles. 
 While I was thus pleasantly engaged, I heard two per- 
 sons speaking in very earnest but subdued tones in the 
 cabinet adjoining. I could not at first distinguish any- 
 thing except ' mum-um, mum-um-um ' and in fact had 
 no idea that what they were saying could be of the 
 remotest interest to me. I soon changed my mind about 
 that, however. 
 
 "The voices after awhile became more animated; 
 and I then made out that they belonged to Mademoiselle 
 and a certain public man whom we both know." 
 
 "Come," ejaculated the listener, " let us have it all. 
 I suspect his name; do not suppress it. It is ? " 
 
 " Well, yes; it was Mirabeau." 
 
 " I Scanty and the Beast, again," laughed the other; 
 "and I warrant me the Beast was braying." 
 
 " Parbleu, my friend, you are too much prejudiced 
 against our great friend. He is neither a donkey nor 
 a boor, to begin with. He is a diplomat, a courtier, a 
 statesman, a journalist, a noble, an orator. He is a 
 Knight of the Garter." 
 
 " Knight of the Garter, is he? Pshaw, any man who 
 takes a spouse becomes that. But spare me any more
 
 268 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 eulogies; and give me a chance to prove you are too 
 partial. You know Mirabeau is an epicure. Well, one 
 day I was at a dinner given by Lafayette, at which this 
 great orator was present. The repast was ample, and 
 Mirabeau had exhibited an astonishing appetite. When 
 he could eat no more, the gourmet sighed, looked rue- 
 fully at the remains of the feast, and said: 
 
 '"Ah, my mouth is much too small, my paunch 
 much too contracted. Now, could I have taken more 
 at a mouthful, and had greater capacity for the viands, 
 then would I have dined as I should. As it is, pardieu, 
 I've only tasted!" 
 
 "My dear fellow," remarked the Count's admirer, 
 " it is only your good eaters who are good-natured." 
 
 " I am silenced. Go on with your story. You heard 
 Mirabeau, who loves, in a cabinet alone with the woman 
 he loves, but he does not make love to her, va!" 
 
 " Nevertheless, all Paris is laughing at his infatua- 
 tion in that quarter, whatever may be said by malicious 
 persons concerning his supposed passion for the Queen. 
 I confess that I expected, when I recognized the voices, 
 to hear some very pretty phrases from him and some 
 very fine mots from her, and, with nothing more than a 
 mischievous feeling and a disposition to amuse myself, 
 I stayed where I was. 
 
 "But, mon Dieu! The conversation which I now 
 began to hear through that convenient door soon ceased 
 to amuse me, it amazed me. I will repeat it to you; 
 and I believe you will agree with me that I did well to 
 listen, malgre good manners." 
 
 The speaker then went on to narrate that portion 
 of the discourse pertaining to the plan for the King's 
 flight which has already been told, and then continued, 
 with an increase of vivacity: 
 
 " I became so lost to everything except the voices in
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 269 
 
 the next room, that at length I imprudently leaned 
 against the door. In doing so my scabbard struck one 
 of the bronze hinges, and produced a devil of a crash. 
 The voices ceased instantly; then the door was roughly 
 tried, shaken by a powerful hand, and evidently by a 
 very angry individual. Fortunately it was locked, and 
 I slipped out of the little room without being dis- 
 covered." 
 
 " Sapristi!" ejaculated the listener, as the narrator 
 finished; "this is certainly a fine piece of news. And 
 have you disclosed the conspiracy?" 
 
 " The devil no. Do you think I am such an ass ? 
 I am not malicious, either. Look here; I have a snug 
 estate in Provence, as you know; and, although the Pro- 
 venceaux are considered by some people as a very rough 
 and ill-mannered lot, they are not so bad to draw rents 
 from. Well, do you not see? If this canaille of Paris 
 retain the upper hand much longer I shall get no more 
 rents, and my estate will not be worth a filip. In 
 La Vendee they have stopped paying anything; in Nor- 
 mandy they have ' suspended/ Besides, I am for the 
 Queen." 
 
 "And I also," leturned the other officer, warmly. 
 "To the devil with Robespierre." 
 
 "To the devil with Danton." 
 
 " Apropos of Danton l I heard an excellent story yes- 
 terday. It seems that Danton's sudden prominence has 
 made him rather presumptuous. He had been paying 
 very rapid court to Mademoiselle, and had come off 
 with the same experience that every one else has. After 
 receiving some wholesome advice from Mademoiselle, 
 In: was coming a'vay from her door, looking excessively 
 sour and gloomy. Mirabeau was just coming to make 
 a call. Danton was exasperated. So bitter were his 
 feelings at the moment that he thought it would be a
 
 270 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 relief to tantalize his rival a little. Stopping on the 
 pavement as Mirabeau came up, he observed: 
 
 " ' Well, Count, it is said there are positively no two 
 things exactly alike, but there are two.' 
 
 "'And those two? ' queried Mirabeau, unsuspectingly. 
 
 '"Your experience and mine,' returned Danton, and 
 walked off before Mirabeau had time to recover." 
 
 The wine having by this time been entirely absorbed, 
 the officers went out of the cafe without noticing Gas- 
 coigne as they passed him, and he remained nodding in 
 his seat until they had disappeared. Then, with a look of 
 triumph on his saturnine face (for so it had become since 
 his intimacy with Robespierre), he rose stealthily, paid 
 his bill, and crept away. 
 
 In the interim between the night of Helene's recep- 
 tion and the incident in the cafe, " Monsieur " (afterwards 
 Louis XVIII.) had been conferred with, and had prom- 
 ised to assist in getting his brother, as well as himself, 
 out of the country. The Queen had received a number 
 of visits from Helene, and was, for the first time and 
 the last, buoyantly cheerful. 
 
 Every preparation had been made. But the King, 
 as usual, had proved the stumbling block in the way and 
 refused to budge. He was importuned, and hesitated ; 
 was implored, and at last, when Mirabeau was dead, con- 
 sented to go to St. Cloud to spend Easter, and to fly 
 from there to the frontier. 
 
 Meantime, Robespierre had been informed by his 
 minion of all that the latter had learned from the 
 National Guardsman, and had determined upon a coup 
 by taking the conspirators in the act. He had there- 
 fore made no sign, and Helene's fears of a discovery 
 had disappeared. The final change in the plan of the 
 flight had thwarted Robespierre's arrangements, and 
 thrown him off the scent; but, like the vulture watching
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 271 
 
 the dying throes of a wounded stag, he hovered in the 
 path and waited. 
 
 Easter Sunday dawned; but, if there was "joy in 
 heaven," there was sadness in the palace. The King 
 had taken pains to have it announced that the royal 
 family would go to St. Cloud for the day. A royal 
 avenue extended from the palace to the barriers, from 
 the barriers to St. Cloud. But an excellent road also 
 led beyond, and this the King's enemies knew as well as 
 his friends. So, when a strong but light coach, with 
 eight thoroughbred horses attached to it, was in the 
 very act of receiving the royal excursionists, the bridle- 
 bits were seized by the shrieking canaille, who swore, 
 pardieu: 
 
 " The King shall not go! " 
 
 And the King and his party meekly turned back. 
 
 The King wore his sword at his side, and no doubt 
 it was a good one. Still, he did not cut down the ruffian 
 who thrust his body between him and the coach door. 
 The generalissimo of the army was there with a strong 
 and gallant escort, but the King did not call on these 
 to clear the court-yard. Doubtless, he preferred to die 
 in the shambles, as he did later on. 
 
 It was Sir Philip who told Helene of this miserable 
 fiasco. He had been with the escort, prepared to follow ( 
 the royal coach, and his brothers were already off with 
 Dumesnil and the sturdy valets, for St. Cloud. 
 
 When Helene had heard Sir Philip through, she 
 said: 
 
 "We must make one more effort; but we must treat 
 the King as we treat the little dauphin; we must take 
 him along."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 PLACE DU CARROUSEL. 
 
 It was nearly midnight of the 2Oth of June. 
 
 Near the Carrousel, in the Ruede 1'Echelle, the shad- 
 ows were thick ; but they did not hide the glass coach 
 which waited there, close to the outer gate of the Tuil- 
 leries. 
 
 Presently several persons successively and without 
 noise emerged from the Carrousel into the street and 
 entered the coach. 
 
 Still the coach waited. Evidently there were others 
 to come. Directly there is heard the roll of rapid 
 wheels, and the carriage of General Lafayette appears. 
 Under the inner arch of the Carrousel it passes a young 
 lady, who shrinks against the wall, with a shiver. One 
 of the King's bodyguards is standing near her, dressed 
 in a servant's livery. The young woman is the Queen. 
 Confused and alarmed by the sight of the carriage of 
 the commander-in-chief, she turns the wrong way with 
 her escort, and in trying to find the coach she wanders 
 away from it off into the Rue de Bac. 
 
 There is a count on the box of the coach, and as he 
 sits there motionless, but trembling, the hour of midnight 
 tolls. 
 
 An hour of waiting and then the Queen and her escort 
 arrive, breathless and agitated. She enters, he mounts 
 to the side of the coachman, and the latter touches his 
 horses. They flit through the silent night, over the 
 silent streets, to the barrier of St. Martin, and stop. 
 
 272
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 273 
 
 There a new berlin, of enormous size, with six horses, 
 takes the fugitives, and the coach turns back. Count 
 F mounts again, and the bodyguard also. 
 
 The whip is given to the horses, and they plunge 
 forward; but the berlin is extremely heavy, and drags 
 at the heels of the stout Norman horses. At length it 
 enters the wood of Bondy, and is swallowed from view. 
 
 In the midst of the wood the fugitives were joined 
 by an armed escort of seven mounted men armed with 
 swords and pistols. This was Sir Philip Belmore and 
 his party. 
 
 Sir Philip rode up to the berlin, bent in his saddle, 
 and asked: 
 
 "Is his Majesty inside?" 
 
 A head, in around hat and peruke, the head-dress of 
 a valet, thrust itself out of the window, and answered 
 in a low tone: 
 
 "I am here." 
 
 It was the voice of the King. 
 
 "And the Queen?" anxiously pursued Belmore. 
 
 "The Queen is also here, and the children," was the 
 response. 
 
 "All is well, then," said Sir Philip. "And now, 
 your Majesty, I have to inform you that there are six 
 besides myself, who will ride with the coach; and that 
 there is a mounted guard in front and another at the 
 rear, which will remain within hearing of the wheels, 
 but out of sight until we enter Lorraine. Let us move 
 forward, now, as rapidly as possible." 
 
 The berlin was again in motion, the close escort 
 divided, four riding on one side, and three on the other. 
 Thus they proceeded, until they entered the wood of 
 Fontainebleau. The horses had been changed at the 
 Grande Cerf, and the party had gone some few hundred 
 yards from the inn, when a great commotion arose
 
 274 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 there, the sound of which was borne to those in the 
 berlin. The King looked out of the window, and 
 inquired the cause. At that moment Sir Philip galloped 
 to the side of the coach and said, hurriedly: 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty, if I beg that for the next 
 half-hour you will not appear at the coach window or 
 allow any one to put up the blinds. No matter what 
 you may hear, understand that I will come to you at the 
 proper moment." Then he rode off rapidly into the 
 darkness. The berlin kept on; but the noise coming 
 from the direction of the inn increased ; it seemed to 
 the anxious travelers as if they were being pursued by 
 an angry crowd of people. 
 
 Suddenly the voice of Sir Philip Belmore exploded 
 in the darkness like the bursting of a shell 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 There was a quick reply in most uncouth tones : 
 
 "Oh, we intended to halt, Monsieur. Yes, sacre, we 
 intended to halt as soon as we came up to you, because 
 we have some questions to put to you, la." 
 
 " Well, fellow, although you are acting strangely, I 
 have a curiosity to know what questions you can desire 
 to put to me, a stranger. Out with them, sir." 
 
 " Good. We wish to know, these honest burghers 
 and myself, who you are guarding so well in that fine 
 new berlin ? Some great aristocrats, no doubt, who 
 should be kept at home to help feed Mother Guillotine, 
 eh ? " 
 
 The night was dark, but through the obscurity the 
 figures of ten or twelve men could be seen, clustering 
 around the little cavalcade which had drawn up at one 
 side of the coach. 
 
 Sir Philip considered for a brief space, and answered, 
 resolutely: 
 
 "Your question is impertinent, and it is excessively
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 275 
 
 foolish. If you have run all the way from the post- 
 house, with your staves and what not, only for the pur- 
 pose of insisting upon our introducing ourselves to you, 
 you have had your trouble for nothing." 
 
 An angry murmer arose in the crowd, and a number 
 of muskets suddenly appeared. Sir Philip rapidly 
 whispered to Dumesnil: 
 
 " They are too far away from the town now to be 
 heard, unless they should fire those muskets. We must 
 capture the guns at once, if they will not allow us to go 
 in peace; and then we must secure ourselves as we best 
 can against any immediate alarm they might be able to 
 give." 
 
 Dumesnil nodded, and, without replying, quietly got 
 down from his horse, giving the reins to Hubert Melt- 
 ham, and walked directly into the crowd of villagers. 
 The man who had addressed Sir Philip was in the act 
 of replying, when he was seized by the collar of his 
 shirt by Dumesnil, who at the same instant grasped 
 another of the meddlers in the same manner, and before 
 either of them could cry out had dragged them outside 
 of the throng. Both of these fellows had guns, which 
 they spasmodically held while being captured. 
 
 "Guppy!" called the Captain, as he tossed the pet- 
 rified prisoners together against a tree; "come and 
 take care of the arsenal." 
 
 The valet dropped from his horse, and pounced 
 upon the muskets in an instant, while Dumesnil caught 
 two more of the amazed rabble in his arms, and bore 
 them to the spot where he had left the first, whom 
 Guppy was vigilantly guarding, and tossed them down 
 in the same unceremonious manner. Then, turning to 
 the others, who were recovering from their astonish- 
 ment, he growled, fiercely: 
 
 '"Here, attention, you scoundrels! You see that I
 
 276 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 have taken two of you at a time, and that I am inclined 
 to take two more of you. Well, do you wish to know 
 what we want six men for ? I will tell you. In that 
 berlin yonder is our great master, Mesmer, of whom 
 you have heard. Even now, as he travels, he is at work 
 on a human subject. It is only his enemies that he 
 experiments on ; and ye are his enemies! Well, he has 
 only to look at you, do you understand, to turn you 
 into anything he chooses to make of you. Come, then, 
 which of you shall I now take ? " 
 
 And with his great arms outspread, and his great 
 eyes distended until he presented a frightful appearance 
 to the superstitious villagers, he advanced toward them 
 through the darkness. 
 
 But the villagers shrank back from him in terror. 
 The four men he had captured, seeing their companions, 
 as they believed, on the point of deserting them, began 
 to cry out, in tones of reproach and fear: 
 
 " Holy Saints, are you going to leave us with Satan, 
 then ? Stay, stay, cowards no, neighbors. Let us par- 
 ley with this terrible person ! Sir, sir, we were wrong 
 to meddle with you ; we do not want to have anything 
 to do with the wizard who is inside there. Only let us 
 go home, that is all we ask of you, and go your way 
 to the devil if you like, since you have the devil's part- 
 ner with you ! " 
 
 " Let me consider. Well, I agree to let you off, pro- 
 vided you leave us your guns. We do not like this night 
 travel ; but our master always travels by night, and 
 rests during the day. Put down your guns, then, and 
 be off with you, before he looks out. If he does that, 
 morbleu, you are lost men! " 
 
 As he concluded this speech, Dumesnil walked up to 
 another of the now completely cowed villagers and 
 gently relieved him of his musket ; the two valets, who
 
 HELENS SAINTE MAUR. 277 
 
 had slid from their horses, came forward and took the 
 three others that remained in the hands of the rabble, 
 and carried them to the booth of the berlin. Then, 
 remounting his charger, and bidding the servants do 
 likewise, Dumesnil motioned the coachman to start up. 
 
 The villagers had already grouped themselves 
 together, and, with many whisperings and grumblings, 
 turned their faces toward the town, while the fugitives 
 slowly moved in the opposite direction. 
 
 On through Nemours and Fontenay, which lay in 
 utter darkness, not a light visible ; then into Montargis, 
 where the sleepy postillions changed horses at the post- 
 house La Madaleine in twelve minutes. Then, without 
 stopping, until they reached, in the broad and unwel- 
 come glare of day, the little hamlet of Briare, on the 
 Loire. At the Chapeau Rouge inn there was a small 
 knot of villagers which gathered around the gaily- 
 painted coach with goggling eyes and pry ing questions, 
 but they were answered curtly, and in ten minutes, 
 with six fresh horses, the coach was lumbering on 
 toward La Charite, over whose long stone bridge it rat- 
 tled thunderously; the escort, far in front and behind, 
 beginning to be painfully anxious because of its slow 
 progress. 
 
 Another stop at Nevers, and after passing through 
 four other post-towns Moulins was gained. This was 
 the capital of the Bourbonnois ; and here ended the 
 fine, firm and smooth Bourbonnois road. The Lion 
 d'Or inn was crowded with people, within and without, 
 as the fugitives approached, and no change was made 
 there, but the jaded horses were rested for five minutes 
 behind the convent of the Chartreux, and then they 
 moved heavily on toward the next and the last post 
 they were to be permitted to reach. 
 
 All the calculations of the friends of the Kirg, who
 
 278 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 had been stationed for many hours along the route 
 through Lorraine to Metz, had miscarried in the impor- 
 tant matter of time. When the berlin arrived at Var- 
 ennes it was but seventy miles from Paris, and it was ten 
 o'clock on the second night of the flight! 
 
 This little village of Varennes, miserable, shabby, 
 grass-grown and dirty, was for once in its puny exist- 
 ence to hear its fatal name sounded throughout all 
 France. 
 
 It was here that the King was stopped; here that the 
 pursurers came up with the fugitives, and turned them 
 back, sickened in heart, wearied in body. The terrible 
 journey back to Paris, and through the street throngs 
 who gathered in tens of thousands to smirk and glower 
 at the royal prisoners, was an eternity to Marie 
 Antoinette. And when she was conducted to her 
 chamber she fell into a swoon that lasted for many 
 hours. 
 
 Paris was jubilant, and the orgies that followed in 
 the brothels and houses of carrousse on that terrible night 
 of the return were worthy of the demon populace which 
 was then preparing to immortalize itself on the altar of 
 Infamy.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE MOB AT THE TUILLERIES. 
 
 The summer of 1792 was passing. It had yielded to 
 the Queen of France nothing but bitterness. Many 
 months of captivity had changed her greatly. All the 
 brightness had gone from her face, all the lightness from 
 her nature. She had grown profoundly melancholy, 
 sternly sorrowful, made so by the misfortunes that had 
 befallen her, and by the contemplation of those that 
 threatened her. She did not spend her time in tears. 
 
 " Tears would often be a relief to me," she said, to 
 Helene; " but when I feel them welling up from my 
 heart I suddenly see with horrible vividness the out- 
 rages that have been perpetrated against me by this 
 nation of butchers, and it seems too puerile to weep." 
 
 Her grief did not display itself in the manner that 
 would most have pleased the women around her; and 
 they added to the other charges which their shallow 
 and vicious minds concocted, the charge of heartless- 
 ness: But the edge of grief, when it is prolonged, 
 becomes blunted, just as pain becomes dulled by its own 
 poignancy; and with Marie Antoinette sorrow became a 
 hopeless calm. 
 
 New complications had been discovered by the 
 Assembly and, as usual, it was unable to cope with the 
 exigency that arose. For two years the populace of 
 Paris, and largely the inhabitants of the provinces, had 
 been occupying their time in marauding, looting, spy- 
 ing upon each other, and killing. A bread famine was 
 
 279
 
 280 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 again the consequence of crime. Bread was six sous a 
 pound, and among the populace of the bankrupt "gov- 
 ernment " sous were as scarce as charity. The mob 
 revolted. It started up from its bloody lair and 
 shrieked: 
 
 " Kill the Austrian woman! It is she who has brought 
 the war with Austria upon us. To the Tuilleries! To 
 the Tuilleries! " 
 
 A crisis, in fact, had arrived; the tocsin had sounded. 
 The wolves of St. Antoineand St. Marceau had left their 
 dens; they had come together, these two streams of tat- 
 terdemalions and assassins; they had mingled their 
 cries, their oaths, their revengeful threats, and they 
 shouted in unison: 
 
 " Marchez! " and, in a tangled and reeking line, they 
 rushed to the Tuilleries after the stupid and unheroic 
 Louis again. 
 
 There they forced the King to go to the Assembly, 
 and proceeded with the real object of their assault upon 
 the palace the massacre of the soldiers and friends of 
 the dethroned King, and the destruction of whatever 
 they could stop to demolish. 
 
 Helene was with the Queen during this onslaught; 
 and went with her to the Hotel de Ville. 
 
 Marie Antoinette had set her foot for the last time 
 in the Palace of the Tuilleries. A few days of torture 
 while shut up in three small chambers, and then the 
 royal family was conducted to the Prison of the Tem- 
 ple. This was the last step before annihilation. 
 
 All the foreign ambassadors now applied for their 
 passports, and left France indignant and disgusted. 
 
 Before the end of another month, even Lafayette 
 was compelled to fly to Holland, to save his life from 
 the cut-throats at Sedan. Having driven this illustrious 
 citizen out of the'army, the Assembly gave it to Dum-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 281 
 
 ouriez later, who, in his turn, subsequently turned it 
 over to the Austrians, and abandoned France to its 
 fate. 
 
 The caprices of the populace became more and more 
 insane, inconsistent. The auther of "Figaro," whom a 
 little while before they had compelled the King to 
 exhibit with his rank production in a royal drawing- 
 room, was now hunted by his former admirers through 
 a dozen streets and byways. Like a rat, he tried to 
 burrow; but he could not find a hole as easily as he 
 could an epigram, and he was caught. He was after- 
 wards let go, and crept off to England, a pauper. 
 
 The seven prisons of Paris were packed with "aris- 
 tocrats," that is to say, with citizens who had clean 
 skins. At night, the only sounds that wakened the 
 echoes on the routes between the prisons and the Place 
 Louis XV. came from the rolling tumbrils, as they bore 
 the doomed to the axe, or carted the dead to the fields. 
 
 So far, France had been trying to exist without law. 
 But of late two things had proved its impossibility: the 
 massacres and the invasion of the country. 
 
 The Commune was now master of Paris; and it felt 
 the necessity of action. Danton had borrowed from 
 Mirabeau a phrase (dressed a little differently) which 
 he had flung at his colleagues: 
 
 "We must dare, and again dare, and forever dare." 
 
 To illustrate his idea of daring, he suggested that 
 the King be beheaded. This was popular; it made the 
 mob forget for the time that its stomach was empty; 
 and it had often shown that it loved blood better than 
 bread. 
 
 Louis, therefore, was " tried," condemned, and in Jan- 
 uary following he was taken to the block. He mounted 
 the car without emotion, passed through the gathering 
 thousands, now hushed into silence, who had come to
 
 282 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 see a king die. The ground of the Place Louis XV. 
 drank his blood; and afterwards the assassins rechris- 
 tened it " Place de la Concorde." Rather should it be 
 named Place de la Mort! 
 
 Then England and Spain declared war against 
 France, and the emissaries of the Jacobins began to hunt 
 for Englishmen. Dumesnil came to Sir Philip to warn 
 him that the lives of himself and his brothers would 
 surely be taken if they were once inside of a French 
 prison. A consultation was held at the chateau, and 
 Dumesnil recommended the Catacombs as the safest 
 retreat possible at the time. He had been in them and 
 knew something of their intricacies; he could guide 
 them his three friends to the most habitable spot in 
 those gloomy regions, and the means of subsistence 
 could be provided without much difficulty. 
 
 This plan was finally adopted, Dumesnil pledging 
 his word that if danger befell Helene beyond the dan- 
 ger of the present he was to hasten to the Catacombs 
 for Sir Philip. With many admonitions, which the lat- 
 ter left with Helene, he bade her farewell. It was late 
 at night when he parted from her, the hour fixed by 
 Dumesnil being midnight; and, with this indispensable 
 friend and guide, the three brothers went sadly to their 
 hiding-place, to which hundreds of hunted citizens had 
 preceded them. 
 
 The three valets had accompanied their masters into 
 their place of concealment; it being deemed utter mad- 
 ness to attempt at the outset of the English invasion to 
 cross Prankish territory toward the border. 
 
 Helene's visits to the Queen continued; but they 
 were now soon to terminate. The struggle between the 
 Girondists had culminated in the triumph of the latter, 
 and on the second day of June all the Girondists who 
 could be found were arrested. Two of them were spend-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 283 
 
 ing the evening at the St. Maur chateau, Brissot and 
 Vergniaud, when the gens d'armes entered, pushing 
 their way silently between the affrighted servants, and 
 seized the intrepid statesmen. 
 
 On that day the "reign of terror" was to date its 
 beginning in history. Indiscriminate slaughter then 
 began, and continued for a year, at the end of which the 
 master of Paris, Robespierre, was led to the block. 
 
 The event of June put an end to Helene's privileged 
 entrance toHhe Temple. On the day following, Danton 
 came to warn her that she was being watched. 
 
 "On no account whatever," said he, "must you leave 
 your hotel. Two of my attaches are domiciled over 
 the way, with orders to keep a vigilant guard over your 
 entrances, and to send me word if any intrusion is 
 attempted. But I can not prevent your arrest away 
 from here. Do not try, therefore, to evade what I can 
 not prevent." 
 
 When he left her she sank into a chair and buried 
 her face in her hands. She remained in this attitude 
 for hours; and when Clarise, who had come to look at 
 her a score of times and retreated as many, finally 
 roused her, she lifted to the light a face that was 
 ghastly and full of anguish. 
 
 Clarise was now the only companionable person to 
 whom Helene could turn. Madame Roland, her inti- 
 mate friend, had gone to the guillotine; and Helene's 
 intimacy with the Queen had driven from her every 
 other so-called friend of her own sex, not from dislike 
 or repulsion, but through fear that they might be com- 
 promised by visiting her. But one evening, in the mid- 
 dle of September, she sent Clarise to Danton to learn 
 the condition of the Queen, and the girl did not return. 
 Helene sat in her boudoir until nine o'clock waiting, 
 until she became seriously alarmed, and summoned a
 
 284 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 servant, the footman, whom she directed to go to the 
 Minister's and request Monsieur or " Citizen " Dan- 
 ton to come to her. When Danton appeared she told 
 him of CJarise's disappearance. He shook his head 
 gravely. 
 
 "The girl came to me," he said, " three hours ago. 
 I told her the Queen was comfortable and quiet. She 
 left at once, presumably to return to you. Few are ever 
 heard of now, after they once pass out of sight. Still, she 
 shall be searched for. Although I am no longer Minis- 
 ter of Justice, I relinquished the office, not the power. 
 I will use the best means at hand to find vour Clarise 
 or" 
 
 Danton was going to add, "her grave," but he was 
 checked by the deep distress depicted in the face of the 
 woman he passionately, if hopelessly, loved; and he took 
 his departure, leaving behind him a few words of com- 
 fort. 
 
 The next morning Helene received a visit from a 
 stranger, who handed her a letter from Danton. The 
 letter said: 
 
 " I send you Duroc, the Detective. He was at the 
 Prefecture in service, during the time young Cambray 
 was employed there, and remembers him. Give him 
 particulars, and trust him implicitly. He is in my ser- 
 vice. " 
 
 Duroc was a small man, with a dark thin face, a beak- 
 like nose, deep-set, watchful eyes that were brown and 
 bright, and hair as black and straight as an Indian's. 
 Helene motioned him to a seat, and was on the point of 
 speaking, when he anticipated her: 
 
 "You know my business with you, Mademoiselle," 
 he began, in a pleasant and respectful tone, " and I will 
 tell you at once what is necessary for me to know, in 
 order that I may serve you.
 
 HELENS SAINTE MAUR. 285 
 
 "You will be good enough, then, to state the full 
 name of your maid, her age, height, build, complexion, 
 color of eyes, color of hair and its length, and if worn 
 long or short, in coif or otherwise; also, her habits, and 
 where she resorted to for amusement or otherwise; also, 
 whether or not she had a lover, and, if so, his name, 
 character, residence, business, and address at home and 
 at business place. Also, if you have any picture or 
 likeness of the girl/' 
 
 This astonishing list of questions, thus condensed 
 into one, Duroc propounded in a rapid, precise and 
 business-like manner, which at once inspired Helene 
 with confidence. She immediately entered into a 
 detailed statement, to which Duroc listened with the 
 liveliest interest, and portions of which he noted down in 
 writing. When he rose to lake his leave, he said: 
 
 " I am splendidly equipped; and I have a great deal 
 of confidence in undertaking the case." 
 
 "Ah, you give me encouragement, indeed," responded 
 Helene. Then, taking from her cabinet a purse, she 
 placed it in Duroc's hand, and observed: 
 
 "You will need money for expenses, and I do not 
 wish you to advance it. Here are one hundred Louis." 
 
 Duroc received the purse as if it was a simple 
 matter of course, and said, as he bowed himself out of 
 the room: 
 
 " In three days I will see you here, Mademoiselle. 
 Shall it be at this hour ? " 
 
 "At this hour, if you choose," replied Helene. 
 
 As the detective walked into the Rue de Colombier, 
 he slapped himself on the knee, and said, aloud; 
 
 "Aha, I think I shall look up my Gascon,"
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 TRACKED. 
 
 In the year 1793, there were in Paris two hotels bear- 
 ing the same name "Hotel d'Angleterre." One of them 
 was situated in the Rue de Colombier, Faubourg St. 
 Germain, while the other was in the northwestern part 
 Rue St. Honore, in the Faubourg St. Honore. Persons 
 and letters directed to either of these hotels sometimes 
 went to the wrong one; and, as both of them were popu- 
 lar places, and needed no recommendation from each 
 other, there was a mild feud between the two. 
 
 It so happened that Duroc was one day peering into 
 the prison of the Conciergerie, in search of a prisoner 
 who could give him some desirable information, when 
 he espied D'Artivan, who was confined there on a 
 charge of murder. Duroc was permitted to converse 
 with the Gascon, and the latter, believing he was doomed 
 to die, had poured his story into the detective's ears, 
 interjected with many vicious expressions of hatred 
 against Clarise Dechamp, upon whom he now charged 
 all his misfortunes. 
 
 "Thousand devils," he said, grinding his teeth des- 
 perately; "if I could only get out of here long enough, 
 I would cut her throat, curse her! " 
 
 D'Artivan had, during his savage recital, mentioned 
 that he had secured lodgings in the hotel just men- 
 tioned, in Colombier street, in order to be convenient to 
 Paul Cambray, whose lodgings were in the Rue Jacob, 
 and that he had used his rooms at the hotel only
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 287 
 
 because he did not wish Paul to know his real place of 
 residence. Duroc had paid no attention at the time to 
 this piece of information; but, as D'Artivan had also 
 mentioned that he had not given up his rooms there, 
 and should go back to them if he was let out of prison, 
 it now occurred to the detective that it would be as well 
 to make some inquiries there. As yet, he knew nothing 
 of the existence of the other hotel in the Faubourg St. 
 Honore. He was, however, acquainted with the land- 
 lord of the first-named hostelry, and he felt confident 
 that the latter would be able to give him some useful 
 information. He was, to all appearances, repaid for his 
 visit, judging from the satisfied expression of his keen 
 face as he emerged, an hour later, from the hotel; but, 
 instead of going home, he hailed a fiacre and directed 
 the driver to the hotel in the Rue St. Honore. It was 
 four o'clock in the afternoon when the fiacre stopped at 
 the entrance; and, ordering the driver to wait for him, 
 Duroc entered briskly, remained but a few minutes, and, 
 coming out with a smile on his face, sprang into the 
 hack and returned to his own quarters in the Rue St. 
 Eustache. 
 
 Three days after his interview with Helene, the 
 detective again called at the chateau. 
 
 Helene received him in the boudoir, and, before he 
 had seated himself, said: 
 
 "You have some news." 
 
 Duroc smiled complacently. Taking from his pocket 
 a gold chain, to which was attached a little gold vin- 
 aigrette, such as were suspended from the wrist, he deliv- 
 ered it to Helene, who uttered a cry as she took it. 
 
 " Where where did you obtain this? " she demanded, 
 turning pale with apprehension of something terrible. 
 
 "You can identify it, then? " said Duroc, postponing 
 his answer.
 
 288 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " Yes, certainly, it was Clarise's! I gave it to her. 
 Where did you find it?" 
 
 " In the possession of a fellow by the name of Victor 
 D'Artivan." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Helene, rising from her chair, 
 and staring at the detective in astonishment; "do you 
 say D'Artivan?" 
 
 "Yes, Mademoiselle, I " 
 
 "But D'Artivan is dead?" asserted she, vehemently, 
 as she continued to stare at him. 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle, he is very much alive/' returned 
 he. 
 
 "But I do not understand." 
 
 " If Mademoiselle will permit me to explain," observed 
 Duroc, politely. 
 
 "Ah, yes, I am so greatly agitated and astonished 
 that I am wasting time," apologized Helene, with a sigh, 
 re-seating herself. " Pray go on, and tell me everything 
 unreservedly." 
 
 Duroc bowed. 
 
 " To relieve your curiosity first of all," began he, " I 
 must tell you that this Gascon was the accomplice of a 
 titled gentleman by the name " 
 
 "You mean the Marquis of B ," suggested Hel- 
 ene, as Duroc stopped. 
 
 " Ah, you knew that much ? " observed he, with some 
 surprise. "Very well. You, perhaps, know also that 
 Robespierre has for this Marquis a deadly hatred ; that 
 he has persistently hunted for him for several years, in 
 order to be revenged upon him for some gross affront 
 of a personal character, of which I know nothing. 
 When D'Artivan went to prison for the murder of the 
 young man, Cambray, he sent a communication to 
 Robespierre, which brought the latter to the Concier- 
 gerie, in spite of his well-known repugnance to visit
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 289 
 
 that prison, about which he has a singular superstition. 
 He went into D'Artivan's cell, stayed there alone for a 
 half-hour, and when he came out he said to D'Artivan, 
 who had followed him with a very eager look in his eyes: 
 " You will be brought out to-morrow morning." 
 " The next morning two gens d'armes took D'Artivan 
 in a carriage, with the blinds drawn, to Robespierre's 
 private rooms in the Rue Guenegaud, to which no one 
 ever goes except by his express direction or permission. 
 When D'Artivan came out he went off alone. He was 
 in a great hurry to get out of the neighborhood of the 
 Quai de Conti, for some reason or other. He soon got 
 into a fiacre and was driven at a tremendous rate to 
 the Hotel d'Angleterre, in the Rue du Colombier. 
 There he told the landlord that he should be there for 
 one night only, and to say nothing of his having 
 returned. He went to his room, seized his chest and 
 dragged it down the stairs without waiting for a porter, 
 and ordered the driver of the fiacre to place it on the 
 vehicle. Then he jumped in and rattled away. But in 
 his excitement, he had said nothing to the landlord of 
 the rent which he owed, and the latter thought it pru- 
 dent to have the fiacre followed, and thus to ascertain 
 where he went with his luggage. The fiacre was fol- 
 lowed to the other Hotel d'Angleterre in the Rue St. 
 Honore, where it was taken off (I mean the luggage) 
 and carried into the hotel, and the fiacre drove away. 
 
 " All this I learned without much trouble, and, as 
 soon as I had these facts in my possession, I went to 
 the hotel in the Rue St. Honore myself. A little inge- 
 nuity elicited the fact there that two strangers, one of 
 them with a bad scar on his left cheek, were in the habit 
 of holding a viz-a-viz convention of an hour or two in 
 the apartments of the latter every night. 1 was con- 
 vinced that I had found D'Artivan; and with an injunc-
 
 2QO HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 tion upon the landlord, which I gave him in the name 
 of Danton, and which he would, therefore be certain to 
 remember, I engaged a room adjoining my Gascon's. 
 Two nights spent in my room yielded me this much in 
 the way of discovery: 
 
 " At ten o'clock precisely, on the first night, the two 
 entered together. I placed my ear to the keyhole, and 
 heard enough to reveal to me that D'Artivan had gained 
 his liberty from Robespierre by disclosing the secret 
 of the other's presence in Paris; that as soon as he was 
 free he had hurried to the house in the Faubourg St. 
 Honore, and apprised the Marquis, who had, of course, 
 vanished before the gens d'armes came there to search 
 for him. The Marquis and D'Artivan were now in partial 
 disguise, and domiciled at the little hotel in the neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 "The second night, I overheard the two discussing a 
 plan they had in view to escape out of Paris. 
 
 " Last night they did not come at the usual hour. 
 I was at the keyhole, and waited until eleven, but no 
 use, they did not come. At twelve, I made up my mind 
 to obtain an entrance into the room, and, having had 
 some experience in opening doors, it was not long 
 before I was standing in the middle of the chamber. 
 There was a small casket of very curious appearance 
 on a table in the room, and I took it up to examine it. 
 As I did so, I discovered that the key had been turned 
 in "it without in fact locking it. Upon opening it, I 
 found nothing in it but this locket. But this, I think, 
 is a great deal." 
 
 " Assuredly, yes. It must be this wretched being who 
 has caused me to lose Clarise," said Helene ; "but what 
 can he have done with her?" she asked, with a shudder. 
 
 " It is useless to speculate upon that," remarked 
 Duroc; "we must try and find her."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 2QI 
 
 " P> it will you not at once procure D'Artivan's 
 arrest ? " asked Helene. 
 
 "Two men are now in the room I took in the hotel, 
 or, at least, were left there by myself, and if D'Artivan 
 and the Marquis, or either of them, appeared since I 
 came away the arrest has been made. Do not be dis- 
 couraged ; we are already on the track of the abductor, 
 and we shall get him." 
 
 " Then you do not think that he has murdered her ?' 
 
 " No. I believe she has been carried off for the grati- 
 fication of a less summary revenge," said Duroc, rising 
 to go. 
 
 " And what are you about to do now ? " 
 
 " I shall now return to the Rue St. Honore. Expect 
 me again at any hour." 
 
 Duroc left the house and returned to the hotel. He 
 found both his men there, who reported that no one had 
 entered the apartments adjoining during his absence. 
 
 "Very well," said he, "we will remain here." 
 
 It was now the usual hour for dinner, and one of the 
 men was sent down to order plates for the three, to be 
 laid in the room they occupied. When the meal was 
 spread out before them they ate it in silence, and after 
 finishing they ordered the remains to be removed and 
 settled themselves comfortably for a possible and, they 
 hoped, profitable vigil of five hours. 
 
 The twilight came on, the shadows thickened in the 
 corners of the room, and still the three men sat near 
 the door of D'Artivan's apartments, silently listening. 
 On the table before them lay three loaded pistols, the 
 only weapons they had brought. 
 
 The night was more than an hour old, and they were 
 sitting in absolute darkness, when they heard footsteps 
 in the passage without, then a key inserted in the lock
 
 2Q2 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 of the Gascon' door, and a moment after the sound of 
 voices and rays of light came through the keyhole. 
 
 "Now, be ready," whispered Duroc to his compan- 
 ions, who grasped their pistols and rose, as did Duroc 
 also. 
 
 The three men then advanced to the entrance, softly 
 opened their own door, and glided into the hall, at the 
 moment they heard the key turned in the lock by 
 D'Artivan.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 FACE TO FACE. 
 
 Duroc had thus far taken all the precautions he had 
 supposed necessary to prevent the game from suspect- 
 ing they were discovered, and to ensure their capture. 
 He thought, now that he had the Marquis and D'Artivan 
 penned in their room, that, even if they attempted resist- 
 tance, he and his stout assistants, with three good pistols 
 in their hands, could certainly overcome the two. 
 There was one precaution, however, which Duroc 
 neglected. 
 
 Directing his companions to keep close at his back 
 and follow him into the room if he was admitted, 
 Duroc stepped quietly to the door and boldly knocked. 
 
 A voice inside asked: 
 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 "It is I, Thorpe, the landlord," answered Duroc, in 
 an excellent imitation of that functionary's voice. 
 
 "Well, we are busy," called D'Artivan, whose voice 
 the detective recognized. 
 
 "But it is important that I see you for a minute; 
 there is something that I wish to say to you privately, 
 and I do not think you wish me to shout it to you," per- 
 sisted Doroc, still feigning. 
 
 " Peste, come in then," said D'Artivan, unlocking 
 the door, and opening it impatiently. 
 
 The next instance the three men pushed into the 
 chamber, fiung the door shut and locked it, and con- 
 
 283
 
 2Q4 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 fronted the two occupants with their weapons pointed 
 at their heads. 
 
 The astonishment of the Marquis, who was disguised 
 in the same manner as when he first appeared to D'Ar- 
 tivan in the villa, was only momentary. For more than 
 two years he had been constantly on the watch for sur- 
 prises of this very kind, and he quickly rallied from this 
 one. He wore a sword at his side, and carried a loaded 
 pistol always in the breast of his coat, which he could 
 grasp in an instant. He plucked it from the pocket 
 which held it, cocked and presented it at the head of 
 Duroc with a quickness which surprised the detective 
 in his turn, and growled fiercely: 
 
 " Fire, if you choose, all of you! But, by God, if you 
 do, I will kill thee before I fall! " 
 
 Duroc's face turned crimson. He felt not a particle 
 of fear, but he felt overwhelmingly ashamed. Here 
 stood his quarry, within twenty feet of him, the two 
 with swords, and one of the two with a loaded pistol 
 aimed point-blank at his, Duroc's, head. It looked very 
 much like a checkmate. What was he to do? It was 
 plain that the Marquis (for Duroc identified the noble- 
 man under his disguise), would die rather than surren- 
 der himself to the claws of the wild-cat Robespierre. 
 But, how to secure him, that was the question that shot 
 into Duroc's mind as he looked steadily at the muzzle of 
 the Marquis* pistol. He had not lowered his own; and 
 as the two stood eyeing each other with weapons aimed, 
 they appeared like two duelists waiting for the signal 
 to fire. 
 
 For several seconds-Duroc said nothing; but he was 
 thinking, and to some purpose. At length he said, in a 
 perfectly even, impassive voice: 
 
 "I think, Marquis, that you are not aware of the 
 purpose I had in coming into this room without leave.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 295 
 
 I know who you are, you see, but it is not you whom I 
 have been sent to take." 
 
 " Then, what in the fiend's name do you want ? " 
 demanded the Marquis, savagely, and with a slight 
 change of countenance. 
 
 t" Listen, my dear Marquis, and I will inform you," 
 returned Duroc, in an unctious tone, and without remov- 
 ing his eyes for an instant from the nobleman's face. 
 
 " I am an agent of Citizen Danton, and of the Police. 
 Well, these two powers (they are very intimate, I declare 
 to you) are interested in this person who stands beside 
 you, and who did me the honor on one occasion to make 
 me a sort of father confessor. This interest is so great 
 that I have been instructed to find Monsieur D'Artivan, 
 and to bring him to my employer. Well, now that I 
 have found him, I wish to take him. You do not object, 
 of course, provided I do not insist on your accompany- 
 ing him." 
 
 The attitude and manner of the Marquis and of 
 D'Artivan during this address differed decidedly. The 
 former listened with undisguised but restrained inter- 
 est, his countenance exhibiting a malicious satisfaction. 
 He was tired of his tool, who had betrayed him, and 
 who was no longer useful to him. True, D'Artivan had 
 flown to warn him that the gens d'arms were coming 
 after he himself had set the hound Robespierre upon 
 his track. But it was D'Artivan's best interest at that 
 time to prevent the arrest, because he held the latteryet 
 in a measure in his power. He had no compunctions 
 in considering, as he was at this moment doing, the sur- 
 render of his useless minion, and he rather enjoyed 
 doing so. 
 
 While the detective was delivering himself of his 
 cleverly contrived speech, the Gascon, who had grasped 
 his rapier viciously, and had sprung to the side of his
 
 296 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 master at the entrance of the detectives, began to 
 tremble. He knew that the Marquis cared not a baubee 
 for his fate, whatever it might be, and that he was, in 
 fact, incensed at what he had sneeringly termed the 
 treachery of a coward, when he had confessed that it 
 was he who had denounced him to Robespierre. And 
 now, during the little interval of silence, he knew intu- 
 itively that his doom was about to be pronounced, the 
 Marquis would purchase his own safety by delivering 
 him to the detective. He became ghastly, and his 
 knees shook and almost refused to support him. In the 
 sight of a penalty the criminal is always penitent, and 
 at this vital moment the Gascon was truly sorry that he 
 had not foregone his recent vengeance. As he thought 
 of the terrible punishment he had received at the hands 
 of Dumesnil, a cold sweat burst out upon his brow. 
 
 " My lord ! " 
 
 D'Artivan's voice would not have been recognized, it 
 was so weak and quavering, as he turned his ashen face 
 toward the nobleman. 
 
 " My lord, you will not desert me ?" 
 
 The question was an appeal, uttered in a whine. 
 
 The Marquis' lip curled with a smile. He did not 
 turn his head, or reply to D'Artivan, but said to Duroc: 
 
 " I have no interest whatever in preventing you in 
 the performance of your duty, if I am not myself inter- 
 fered with. Understand this: if you attempt to arrest 
 me, I will kill you. You may, perhaps, fire at me and 
 wound me, even to the death; but unless your bullet 
 strikes my heart or my brain it will not prevent mine 
 from lodging in your vitals. You know that the aim of 
 
 the Marquis of B has never failed. So, it is better 
 
 that we understand each other at once." 
 
 Duroc smiled amiably, as he replied: 
 
 "My dear Marquis, nothing prevents you from leav-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 297 
 
 ing this room at this moment alone. I promise you I 
 will not prevent your doing so, and that you shall not 
 be followed. Leave me your friend; his company will 
 solace me for your absence and loss." 
 
 The Marquis, without replying to this facetious 
 speech, bowed stiffly, and started toward the door 
 without, however, lowering his weapon. But D'Artivan, 
 forgetting to keep at a distance from his pursuers, and 
 to be on his guard, if he really intended to resist them, 
 darted after the recreant, and caught him by the long 
 skirt of his coat. 
 
 "Oh, my lord, my lord!" cried he, in despairing 
 tones, "do not desert me, for God's sake do not!" 
 
 But the Marquis turned savagely upon the abject 
 wretch, and dealt him a severe blow in the face with 
 the pommel of his sword, which he had drawn while 
 moving toward the door, to avoid a surprise. 
 
 D'Artivan fell back with a cry, and was caught in 
 the arms of the two assistants, who in a trice had his 
 wrists pinioned with a stout cord. 
 
 As the Marquis opened the door, keeping his back to 
 it and his face toward Duroc the while, he laughed 
 mercilessly, and, flinging a look of contempt at the 
 moaning adventurer whom he was remorselessly leav- 
 ing to his fate, he said: 
 
 "Tell Robespierre that I send him a hostage for my 
 appearance hereafter; and that I will come to him at the 
 foot of the guillotine!" 
 
 The next instant the door closed upon him; the key, 
 which he had quietly abstracted from the inside, grated 
 in the lock, and his footsteps rapidly died away as he 
 hurried down the staircase without.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 IN THE CHATEAU SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 The library in the St. Maur chateau was ablaze with 
 light, although it was past one o'clock at night. It con- 
 tained four persons, Helene, Dumesnil, Duroc and the 
 prisoner D'Artivan. These four were seated at a round 
 table, so that the Gascon sat facing the hostess, and 
 Dumesnil the detective. D'Artivan was still bound; 
 and his sullen and stealthy aspect proved the prudence 
 of this precaution, for in his desperate situation he 
 would certainly have attempted any folly that suggested 
 the barest possibility of escape from the giant, whom he 
 regarded from time to time with a look of supreme ter- 
 ror. Dumesnil, however, who had been sent for the 
 moment Duroc appeared at the chateau with his pris- 
 oner, had only given him a glance of intense loathing 
 when he entered the library, and, taking the seat at the 
 table which Helene had placed for him, ignored the 
 wretch from that moment, keeping his great eyes 
 fastened upon those of Helene with a look of solemn 
 expectancy. 
 
 "Your name is D'Artivan?" 
 
 It was Helene who spoke; and she bent her piercing 
 eyes upon the cowering wretch, who lowered his, but 
 made no answer. 
 
 " It was you who caused the death of Paul Cambray, 
 by the most cruel and dastardly means," she continued, 
 ignoring his silence. The murderer's_head sunk lower, 
 but he said nothing. 
 
 298
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 299 
 
 ' You caused the death of an innocent man whom 
 you called your friend, and who had treated you as 
 such, solely from the desire to revenge yourself for the 
 scar you wear, and which you received at your own invi- 
 tation, and in a fair, no, an unequal, contest with a 
 young girl." 
 
 The Gascon scowled, and he shot a defiant glance at 
 the averted face of Paul's patron. 
 
 " Oh, you triumphed, you think, because you escaped 
 punishment for that awful crime," said Helene, observ- 
 ing the look. "But you were not satisfied with tempt- 
 ing your fortune once; you permitted your miserable 
 passion for revenge to lead you on to the commission of 
 another crime. You abducted the poor girl whose 
 courage you feared, and whom you hated because she 
 would not overlook your insults." 
 
 D'Artivan glanced quicky at his accuser, at the word 
 "abducted," and an expression of cunning flitted over 
 his sinister face. Still, he said nothing. 
 
 "Yes," repeated Helene, whose scrutiny became 
 closer, as she proceeded: "you abducted her, but we 
 shall recover her; and if harm has befallen her your own 
 fate will be fearful." 
 
 "D'Artivan's face turned a trifle paler; his mouth 
 twitched nervously, and he glanced again at Dumesnil. 
 Then his features settled into a dogged frown, and he 
 deliberately stared at the speaker as if to defy her. 
 
 It may be wondered at, this parleying with the 
 miscreant who undoubtedly knew what had become of 
 Clarise: and it may be asked why he had not been taken 
 at once to prison, tried, or examined there, and the 
 truth forced from him. Instead of pursuing that regular 
 course he had been brought to a private house to be 
 reproached. Every moment, under this mild subjection, 
 ho was becoming bolder, more confident, more defiant.
 
 300 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 But it must be remembered that at that time there 
 was in Paris absolutely no law; nothing but misrule. 
 There was no tribunal to listen to and to redress private 
 wrongs, or punish crimes against individuals. The 
 " government " was a pretense; the office of justice a 
 cloak, law a fiction. D'Artivan had gone to prison for 
 murder before the days of anarchy had begun, and had 
 been set free; he would go to prison now with far belter 
 assurance of escape, and without the slightest proba- 
 bility that he would ever be tried. Once behind the 
 gates of the Conciergerie, nothing could ever be got 
 from the malignant villain which would lead to the 
 rescue of Clarise. if alive, or the discovery of her remains, 
 if dead. 
 
 Helene had, therefore, determined to trust to her own 
 powers to wring from him the truth; and she had 
 directed Duroc to bring him to her house, when he sent 
 her word of the capture. The very change in D'Arti- 
 van's demeanor, now, was what she expected and 
 desired in aid of her purpose. 
 
 When D'Artivan raised his head to glare at his fair 
 enemy, she looked disconcerted. D'Artiven saw this, 
 and a smile, at once insolent and exulting, added to the 
 distortion of his vindictive mouth. He continued to 
 stare at her with the bravado air which he believed 
 would soon confuse her; and his satisfaction was 
 extreme when he observed her passing her white hands 
 swiftly back and forth before her face, and in front of 
 his eyes, as if to ward off their powerful beams. She 
 did not, meanwhile, remove her own, but he believed k 
 was the attraction of repulsion which kept her gaze 
 steadfastly fixed upon him, and he stared at her the 
 harder. 
 
 But presently a change began to steal Into his face; 
 the stare was becoming less wavering, le?s conscious,
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 30! 
 
 it was becoming stony and fixed. All expression 
 faded from his face, and the color with it. His figure 
 assumed a stiff and unyielding position, as he sat lean- 
 ing back in his chair; and at short intervals he drew his 
 breath with a quick gasp. 
 
 At length Helene ceased moving her hands, rose up 
 from the table, and said to the astonished witnesses: 
 
 "This man is now no more than an automaton with 
 the sense of hearing and the power of speech. What- 
 ever I bid him do, he will attempt; whatever I ask him, 
 he will answer. Stand away from me, and listen." 
 
 Awestricken at this to them miraculous exhibition 
 of what the superstitious age regarded as astrology ? 
 necromancy, or " the black art," the two men retreated 
 to another part of the room, where they stood, mutely 
 watching the face of the hypnotized prisoner. 
 
 Going to his side, Helene laid her hand upon one of 
 his, not without a movement of repugnance, and in alow 
 voice of command, said sternly : 
 
 " Pay strict attention to what I say to you. Of whom 
 are you thinking ? " 
 
 The muscles of the sleeper's face relaxed, and a 
 revengeful smile played about his lips, as he answered, 
 instantly : 
 
 "Of that vixen, Clarise Dechamp." 
 
 "When did you see her last ? " 
 
 "Tuesday evening, at a little past seven." 
 
 Duroc started, and uttered an exclamation. 
 
 " Be silent," cautioned Helene, raising her finger. 
 Then, turning again to D'Artivan : 
 
 "Where did you meet her?" 
 
 " On the Pont de Louvre, while we were going north 
 of the river." 
 
 "Who were with you?" 
 
 " Two of my friends, Bompart and Estaing, who
 
 
 - .- 
 
 do? Tefln 
 
 ". ~ . : ~ ".:;.. n 
 
 '-'---' ' - _' ". ". - " . ". .; irr :i :-: ' i. . r : ,: ..tr . ; ; i ~i5 rr. ; re 
 
 "-"--:.. - : " : " " - "- - '. '.--'- -':-: '..'.'.'. '. . 1 ' 1 
 
 ': --:' t-rii t. 
 
 ."- A", "i- : --_-, - : -.---.--: ..-- ~ - _ . ; ; . -; -i-;- 
 a movement, as if he would leave his chair. 
 
 ::::--: - 1 ;. - . i :>.- i /. i - . : -. i -:-::-. v- r.-:: i-. ;. 
 taring her hand over his eyes for the space of a second, 
 
 --:.- \.- : --.---:...- 
 
 " Speak T" 
 
 D" Artivan shrank back in his seat. 
 
 "When the girl saw as coming toward her, she 
 crossed to the other side of the bridge. I whispered to 
 Bevmpart: 'That girl tried to have me assassinated; now 
 
 --.;: .' ------ '---- '.=--':'- " -: ----: :-- = V- -- - -:;-- - : -.;--; ; ;-,.-. 
 
 -^' :-'---.."------.' L^' ; .--. ;-.-- -'-,i. :.-::, :h 
 
 of von stand by to help me capture her/ " 
 
 "Bompart and Estaing laughed, and said: 'This is 
 
 '" ' -. ' ; : : ' :.'.;.;--;::_ - ' . ."; ~. ;.; -..-,?. 
 
 wed a cloak on bis arm, threw it to me. I stepped 
 -. . .':'; z-. --.-.-. :-. -.'.-: ;;.--.'.:; . :- .: ::.- '-. .-. ." :-:. .- . : 
 beaded the girl off. She stopped, looked angrily at me, 
 and said, the spitfire: 'How dare yotil Let me pass,'" 
 
 "Bat I bad no intention to allow her to pass. I 
 opened the cloak, and said: * Bat the evening is chilly, 
 my dear, and I think you had better bare this wrap/ 
 
 "Then, sapristi, before she could run away, or give 
 so much as a squeak, I had thrown the cloak over her 
 early bead, and caught it close under her pretty chin.
 
 ._. ........... ... 
 
 I shouted 'Bompart! Estaing!' while I rapidly wound 
 the folds around her head, until she was better muffled 
 than a Queen's mammy, and the only sound that came 
 from her was a little gasp. My friends were, for once, 
 useful; I could not have managed her if they had not 
 been there, the minx kicked and twisted so. But we took 
 her up, and, as it was then quite dark, and there was 
 no one except ourselves on the bridge, we crossed back 
 to the south side without being- molested or noticed. 
 Then, while Kstamg and I held her down under die 
 shadow of the parapet by setting on her as if she were 
 only a great bundle we were tired of carrying; I sent 
 Bompart on the run for a fiacre. He found one at the 
 foot of the Pont Nenf, in front of the Cafe Dauphin, and 
 we placed our baggage in it, after a little tussle (she 
 was as strong as a young mule), and made off." 
 
 When D'Artivan began this infamous disclosure, 
 Dnmesnfl stretched his ox-like neck toward the mis- 
 creant, and listened with an intenseness that was pain- 
 ful to witness. As the tale progressed, die cords in his 
 neck began to swell, his face to turn purple, his huge 
 chest to rise and sink like die undulations of a sea 
 upheaved. Once or twice a grinding sound issued from 
 his glued lips, and his eyes became lurid. As D'Artivan 
 paused to give vent to a laugh at die image before his 
 wandering vision, DumesnSV seif^DontroJ gave way. 
 Re-- :-.; -:; ;. : . ^..? : . r . -. -?:.. : t - . - ; -_ ? --- 
 above his head, and with a roar, which jarred every 
 object in die room, he bounded upon die wretch who 
 sat smiling in his chair and all unconscious of tKe fright- 
 ful peril that threatened him. He did not even bear the 
 tremendous sound which bellowed in his ears. 
 
 Hdene, Duroc, aghast and horrified, darted toward 
 Dnmesnil, with a cry, but it was too late. As they 
 j r - : r .: : . r _; ;.:-.: v .::-.:/. r : r ;_: ?: r ; :;-. ;-i ; _r. I ?, e ~ '-. . . k
 
 304 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 them from him with as much ease as if they had been 
 infants, reached down and grasped the throat of the 
 doomed wretch, and lifted him out of the chair. 
 
 " Dog! Fiend! " shouted he, as he held the limp form 
 in the air, with both his enormous hands; and, jerking 
 the body toward him with fearful force, then back and 
 forth once, twice there came a sound of cracking 
 bones, and the head of D'Artivan hung back on his 
 shoulders like the tassel of a cap. 
 
 Dumesnil had broken the Gascon's neck!
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR CLARISE. 
 
 At six o'clock, on a foggy morning in September, an 
 elegant coupe stood in front of the Cafe Dauphin. The 
 Pont Neuf was already thronged with vehicles of almost 
 every conceivable kind, passing either way over this 
 great thoroughfare, while hundreds of pedestrians were 
 trooping to the south side of the river. 
 
 Many of these were sight-seers merely, and when a 
 lady, closely hooded, and a gentleman of extraordinary 
 size got out of the carriage and approached the door of 
 the cafe, a score of people stopped to look at them. 
 
 "Ciel!" exclaimed one vivacious grisette, poising 
 herself on one foot, while she stared saucily up into the 
 face of the gigantic stranger, "have you stepped down 
 from the column, Monsieur? " 
 
 At this allusion to the statue, which loomed out 
 through the thick fog, there was a laugh, which at once 
 caused others to stop and listen. No Frenchman or 
 French woman is ever in too much of a hurry to gos- 
 sip or to enjoy a scene on the street; and the gentleman 
 found it somewhat difficult to thread his way, with the 
 lady on his arm, through the throng that loitered in 
 front of the hotel. 
 
 Before he had reached the door, two young men, 
 who were talking loudly, came off the bridge, and as 
 they glanced at the titanic figure one of them grasped 
 his companion by the arm and held him back. 
 
 " The devil ! " exclaimed he. " Do you see nothing, 
 Bompart? Look, look, stupid ! '*
 
 306 HELENE SA1NTE MAUR. 
 
 And the speaker pointed at the figure of the gentle- 
 man, who had heard the exclamation, and had hastily 
 turned his head in that direction. 
 
 " What do you wish me to see ? " demanded the one 
 called Bompart, staring carelessly about him. 
 
 "Why, this tall gentleman, of course; is it not D'Ar- 
 tivan's enemy?" returned the other, pointing to the 
 gentleman, who had now stopped and was earnestly gaz- 
 ing at him. 
 
 Suddenly, Dumesnil (for it was he) stepped close to 
 the two, and said: 
 
 " Your name is Bompart, then? " 
 
 The young man answered, with some astonishment: 
 
 "Certainly, my name is Bompart; but what of that? 
 Do you know me?" 
 
 " No/' replied Dumesnil, composedly; " but I wish 
 to know you. Will you do me the favor to step into the 
 hotel for a few minutes?" 
 
 Bompart, still more astonished, looked at his friend. 
 
 " Well, Estaing," said he, hesitatingly, " what the 
 deuce is this?" 
 
 Estaing shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 
 
 " Oh, we can very soon find out. It can do no pos- 
 sible harm to accommodate the gentleman, especially 
 as we have the fog in our throats, and a stem of brandy 
 will cut it." 
 
 "An excellent suggestion," remarked Dumesnil, with 
 a smile; "let us seek the remedy at once. Excuse me 
 for one instant;"- and he returned to the side of Helene, 
 who had accompanied him on his obvious errand, whis- 
 pered a word to her, and assisted her back into her car- 
 riage, which remained standing where it was. 
 
 The three men then entered the cafe, and Dumesnil, 
 .without consulting his new acquaintances, immediately 
 requested to be shown to a private room,
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 307 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," said Dumesnil, when they were 
 seated at a table, with a bottle of brandy and glasses 
 before them, " I will explain to you why I have made so 
 curious a request, as soon as you have ' cut the fog in 
 your throats.' Permit me to fill your glasses/' 
 
 The two, wondering very much, swallowed the liquor 
 with great satisfaction, and Dumesnil re-filled for them 
 and himself. 
 
 "I wish," Dumesnil proceeded, " to inquire about a 
 transaction in which you recently figured with one 
 D'Artivan." 
 
 Both the young men started to their feet. 
 
 " Peste ! " cried Bompart, casting a quick glance of 
 uneasiness at the Captaki; " what do you mean by that?" 
 
 Dumesnil regarded Bompart a moment with a satir- 
 ical smile, and, without moving, answered : 
 
 " I mean the abduction of a young girl, which 
 occurred on Tuesday night last, about seven o'clock, on 
 the Pont du Louvre, in which D'Artivan was the prin- 
 cipal and you two were accomplices." 
 
 " Dame ! " exclaimed Estaing, looking toward the 
 door, as though he meditated flight. 
 
 " Do not be disturbed, my friend," remarked Dumes- 
 nil, coolly; "there is no occasion for it, I hope. I only 
 ask you to reply honestly to my questions, and, if you 
 went no further than to assist in carrying the girl off, 
 no harm will come to you. Sit down, then, unless there 
 is something more than that against you." 
 
 The calm command of the giant reduced the pair at 
 once to submission. They resumed their chairs, and, 
 with hands that shook a little, seized their glasses and 
 gulped down the contents. 
 
 Somewhat reassured, Bompart said, questioning his 
 friend with his eyes : 
 
 " I do not know of any reason, Monsieur, why we
 
 308 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 should tell you anything of the affair, if we really know 
 anything about it, unless you have some natural interest 
 in her in the case." 
 
 "Certainly not," chimed Estaing, gathering com- 
 posure from the brandy he had drank." 
 
 "Very good," said Dumesnil ; "let me inform you, 
 then, that the lady whom you saw with me a moment 
 ago, and who is now waiting for me in the carriage out- 
 side, is the mistress of the poor girl whom D'Artivan 
 abducted, and is deeply attached to her. We are search- 
 ing for the maid, and we know from D'Artivan's own 
 lips that it was his friend Bompart and his friend 
 Estaing, who, he said, are'always borrowing money from 
 him and never paying it back, who helped to commit 
 the act." 
 
 " The traitor ! " 
 
 "The scoundrel ! " 
 
 These indignantly uttered epithets burst from the 
 lips of the two men at the same instant, and at the same 
 instant they vociferated: 
 
 " What is it you wish to know?" 
 
 " I wish to know where the girl was taken, or where 
 she is now," said the captain, with emphasis. 
 
 Eompart and Estaing stared at each other without 
 replying, and in apparent perplexity. 
 
 " Come, gentlemen," exclaimed Dumesnil, sternly; 
 "do not trifle with me, nor with your own safety. An- 
 swer my question." 
 
 "Oh, we do not object to doing so," returned Bom- 
 part, seriously; " but the fact is that we do not know." 
 
 "What, you do not know? " 
 
 Dumesnil's eyes were begining to roll. He did not 
 believe them. 
 
 " It is true, Monsieur," said Estaing, gravely, feeling 
 exceedingly uncomfortable under the glance of the
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 309 
 
 formidable stranger. " You see, we did not go with 
 D'Artivan. He would not permit us to do that. He 
 went off alone." 
 
 " In a fiacre." 
 
 "Yes, in a fiacre, and he drove toward the west." 
 
 "And do you know the driver of this fiacre?" 
 demanded the captain, watching Bompart keenly. 
 
 " Yes," replied he, " I know him quite well. It was 
 I who went for him." 
 
 "And his name? " 
 
 "Jean Turbot; his stand is at the next bridge." 
 
 "Good. May I ask you, then, to go for this Jean 
 Turbot, and bring him here? Your friend will remain 
 with me until you return." 
 
 " With pleasure," acquiesced Bompart, who rose at 
 once from the table, quaffed another fog-destroyer, and 
 left the room. Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when 
 he returned, bringing with him a hackman. Dumesnil 
 addressed the latter quietly: 
 
 " My good fellow, you remember carrying a passen- 
 ger with a very large bundle, which these two gentle- 
 men assisted him to deposit in your hack, from the Pont 
 du Louvre, last Tuesday evening, do you not? " 
 
 The hackman grinned, winked at Bompart, who, 
 however, subdued him with a frown, and answered: 
 
 " Oh, I recollect. He gave me forty sols." 
 
 " Very well; where did you take the man, and his 
 bundle ? " 
 
 The hackman drew back, and said, sullenly: 
 
 " That is another matter, pardi." 
 
 Dumesnil got out of his chair, went up to the man 
 and took him by the arm. 
 
 " What! You will not tell? But I have the means 
 of compelling you, do you know that?" 
 
 The hackman jerked his arm violently, but the hand
 
 310 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 of Dumesnil closed upon it with such force that he cried 
 out. 
 
 " Come, will you tell ? And look you, if you do not 
 instantly do so I will break your arm, and then I will 
 give you to a gens d'arm. Now be quick! " 
 
 Dumesnil's manner was so terrifying, his grip of the 
 hackman's arm was so painful, that the latter no longer 
 thought of refusing. 
 
 "Well," he grumbled, "it is not my fault. I took 
 the gentleman to the Rue St. Honore, in the old Fau- 
 bourg, to a little villa where the Marquis of B used 
 
 to stay sometimes." 
 
 Dumesnil groaned. 
 
 "Thousand thunders! " shouted he; "you took him 
 there ? " 
 
 "I swear it, Monsieur," answered the man, frightened 
 at the captain's appearance. 
 
 "Very well; you will drive me there instantly," said 
 the latter. "Gentlemen, I desire that you will go with 
 me." 
 
 Bompart nodded to Estaing, and assented. They 
 were curious to see the end of this strange adventure, 
 and, besides, they had nothing now to fear from Dumes- 
 nil, who had assured them of this. 
 
 Accordingly, the four proceeded outside of the cafe 
 at once, where, after informing Heleneof his discoveries 
 and purposes, he requested her to follow the fiacre in 
 her carriage, and in a few minutes the two vehicles were 
 rolling westward. As they drove along the Quai des 
 Tuilleries, Dumesnil heard some one calling to him. It 
 was Duroc, who had hailed him and motioned the fiacre 
 to stop. 
 
 "Ah," ejaculated the detective, as he came running, 
 and flourishing a small package in his hand, "I have 
 been following you all the way from the Cafe Dauphin."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 31 1 
 
 "You have news, then?" inquired Dumesnil. 
 
 "Yes," answered Duroc, looking moodily at the par- 
 cel he held, "and bad news, I am afraid." 
 
 "Well," said the Captain, uneasily, "tell it to me 
 first, and then get in Mademoiselle's carriage behind us."' 
 
 "Very well," observed Duroc, gravely; "I have in 
 this package the hair of Clarise Dechamp! " 
 
 " What is that? " cried Dumesnil, aghast at this start- 
 ling information. For a moment he could say no more, 
 but sat gasping, and grinding his teeth. 
 
 Bompart and Estaing glanced at each other fear- 
 fully, and turned pale. 
 
 Duroc, who had been standing at the side of the 
 vehicle, leaned inside, opened his parcel s and held up 
 before the horrified passengers a ' switch' of long, wavy 
 tresses of a beautiful black color, glossy and fine. 
 
 While the eyes of the thre? were riveted with a 
 horrid fascination upon this eloquent witness of D'Ar- 
 tivan's crime, Helene called to them. 
 
 "Why are you stopping so long?" 
 
 She had not seen Duroc as yet. 
 
 " Put it in your pocket, for God's sake," groaned 
 Dumesnil, "and say nothing now to Mademoiselle. Get 
 in her carriage and come on." 
 
 Helene was surprised to see Duroc; but she eagerly 
 received him, and began to question him at once. 
 
 The detective had intended to tell Dumesnil that he 
 had found the hair at a hairdresser's shop, but he had 
 not time to do so. The hairdresser was his sister, 
 Madame Campan, who kept an establishment in the Rue 
 St. Eustache. It was an inspiration of the detective's 
 to look at every purchase of hair that his sister made, 
 and get the particulars from her; and she had that 
 morning told of this one. The person who had brought 
 it to her was a man whose description was that of
 
 312 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 D'Artivan. He had told her that it was the hair or his 
 fiancee, and that he was compelled to sell it to obtain 
 money for the burial expenses. He was very tearful, 
 and she had given'him a good price for it. Duroc had 
 bought it from his sister, and then hurried to the 
 chateau, where he was informed that Mile. St. Maur 
 had driven to the Cafe Dauphin, to which place he was 
 to hasten, should he call during her absence. 
 
 During the ride, Duroc told Helene nothing of his 
 discovery; but listened dejectedly while she expressed 
 the hope that in a few minutes she would see her poor 
 Clarise, and that all would be well again. , 
 
 As yet she was ignorant of the fact that she was 
 going to the house of her wor,st enemy, the Marquis of 
 B . But in fact that "was her destination.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 IN BLUEBEARD'S DEN. 
 
 When Helene and those who accompanied her 
 entered the yard of the villa in the Faubourg St. Honore, 
 it was still early in the morning. They were not sur- 
 prised, therefore, to see all the blinds drawn, and no 
 one visible at the windows or in the garden. Duroc 
 uttered a sigh of satisfaction at this; they were all the 
 more likely to obtain an entrance. Dumesnil had halted 
 the carriages half a block away from the house, and 
 requested every one to get out. Then he had informed 
 Duroc that they were going to the Marquis' villa, much 
 to Duroc's surprise. The latter, as well as Dumesnil, 
 knew something of the desperate character of the Mar- 
 quis; and while neither of them expected to meet the 
 latter here, they prepared themselves for even that 
 improbable contingency. It was arranged that Helene 
 should go to the door alone, while the others ranged 
 themselves along the wall of the house so as not to be 
 observed by any one on the inside who answered her 
 summons. The moment the door opened, Dumesnil, 
 followed in order by Duroc, Bompart and Estaing, 
 should precipitate themselves into the passage, seize the 
 servant and suppress any outcry; and then proceed to 
 explore the house. 
 
 The precautions of Dumesnil and Duroc were well 
 taken, their arrangements fortunate, as events soon 
 proved. 
 
 Helene's summons brought Barbaroux to the door. 
 
 313
 
 314 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 He was half asleep when he opened it; but his eyes 
 brightened with astonishment when he saw, standing on 
 the doorstep before him, a queenly-looking figure, a 
 lady closely veiled, who asked him in a voice of irre- 
 sistible sweetness: 
 
 " Is your master at home?" 
 
 "No," your ladyship," stammered Barbaroux, who 
 was still further bewildered by this question. Who 
 could this great dame be, who came to his master's 
 house at nine in the morning and called for him so non- 
 chalantly? Barbaroux stared at her suspiciously and 
 held the door a little closer. Helene thought of a little 
 stratagem. 
 
 " It is of the greatest importance," said she, in 
 a grave tone, "that I should communicate with your 
 master. His safety is more than ever threatened, and 
 he must be warned, if he succeeds in escaping this new 
 danger." 
 
 Now, the Marquis was at that very moment standing 
 at the top of the stair-landing, and he had heard the 
 voice of Helene and recognized it. Always alert 
 against surprises, he had just risen from his bed when 
 the knocker sounded below, and had hastily slipped 
 into a morning robe and out into the corridor to listen. 
 
 The sound of Helene St. Maur's voice, unlike the 
 voice of any other woman, could not be mistaken by 
 any one who had ever heard it. And, as its soft notes 
 ascended the stairs to him, it seemed to him that the 
 house was whirling around with him. He clutched at 
 the balustrade, or he would have .fallen. For an 
 instant he thought his heart had ceased to beat, and 
 that he was dying. In a feeble voice he called to his 
 valet: 
 
 "Barbaroux, quick, come here!" 
 
 The valet knew from his master's weak and gasping
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 315 
 
 voice that something serious and urgent was the mat- 
 ter. He forgot his visitor, forgot to close the door and 
 darted up the staircase. 
 
 Surprised, but not disconcerted, Helene looked into 
 the yard, beckoned to her companions, and in a moment 
 the four men had noiselessly entered the passage, and 
 had closed the door behind them and locked it. The 
 key was withdrawn by Duroc and placed in his pocket. 
 
 Helene had hurriedly whispered to Dumesnil as he 
 came in: 
 
 "The Marquis himself is here!" 
 
 It was not a time to indulge surprise, and Dumesnil 
 evinced none. On the left of the hall a door opened 
 into the parlor where the Marquis had so successfully 
 masqueraded with D'Artivan, and into this Dumesnil 
 hurried his three aids, leaving Helene alone in the hall. 
 
 The apartment into which the party retreated 
 extended back to and communicated with a library, the 
 door leading into which was also partly open. 
 
 "Come," said Dumesnil, advancing toward it, "let 
 us go in here. Something will come to pass directly, I 
 tell you." 
 
 Followed by the rest, Dumesnil took possession of 
 the library, and, closing the door, locked it. The four 
 then sat down beside it to listen. 
 
 Meantime Barbaroux had flown to his master, in 
 something of a panic. He found him leaning against 
 the wall of his room, ghastly white and panting. The" 
 valet ran to a table upon which was a carafe of brandy, 
 poured out a glass nearly full and put it to the lips of 
 the Marquis, who drained it spasmodically and sank 
 into a chair. The fiery fluid was not long in exhibiting 
 its potency. As it ran through his veins and mounted 
 to his brain the color returned to his face, his eyes took
 
 316 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 an unusual glow, and his strained features relaxed into 
 a smile at once wicked and triumphant. 
 
 "Where is the lady?" asked he, in a tense .whisper, 
 as he helped himself to a second glass of the brandy. 
 
 "In the hall below," responded Barbaroux, who was 
 frowning anxiously while his master drank. 
 
 "The devil ! " exclaimed the latter, angrily ; "go at 
 once and beg her to take a seat in the parlor. Then 
 return here and help me to dress. And mind you, my 
 excellent Barbaroux, I shall expect you to make me up 
 finer this morning in a shorter time, too, than you have 
 ever yet done. Now hurry, and be back in a breath." 
 
 The key had scarcely turned in the door of the 
 library, when the valet led Helena into the parlor. 
 There he left her and hurried up to his master, whom 
 he was greatly annoyed to find swallowing his third 
 glass of brandy. Evidently the Marquis was nerving 
 himself for some desperate venture, or else he was bor- 
 rowing courage to meet, albeit in his own house, the 
 woman he had Sworn to humiliate; whose life he plotted 
 night and day to blight. 
 
 Helene, in the meantime, had held a whispered con- 
 sultation with her friends; and it had just been under- 
 stood that they were to wait for a summons from her 
 before they threw themselves upon the Marquis, when 
 they heard his step on the stairs. Helene seated her- 
 self a few feet from the library door, and assumed a 
 reserved and composed manner, which was decidedly at 
 variance with her feelings 
 
 The Marquis entered the parlor with a lithe step, 
 smiling and extending his hand with as much court- 
 liness as he had ever shown in the drawing-rooms 
 of Marie Antoinette before they domiciled pigs instead 
 of patricians. But Helene's cold reserve checked him. 
 She simply rose, bowed with the dignity of an empress,
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 317 
 
 and resumed her seat. The Marquis drew a chair in 
 front of her, and for the space of a minute they sat in 
 silence, looking straight into the eyes of each other. 
 There was a mocking, wicked light in his, a steady, 
 stern questioning in hers. Once the spell of those 
 wonderful eyes had fettered his brain, and filled his 
 heart with the fires of a volcano. Now, their expression 
 exasperated him, filled him with the rage of despair. 
 He hated her with the fierceness of a tiger, because he 
 loved her with the ferocity of a savage. 
 
 It was she who first spoke; and, if he had not fortified 
 his strength with copious draughts of the strong brandy, 
 and dulled his sensibilities with its subtle fumes, he 
 could neither have endured to look into her eyes nor to 
 listen to her voice without paling and trembling. 
 
 " I have come," said Helene, speaking with cold 
 deliberateness, " to ask you for my maid, Clarise." 
 
 The Marquis smiled; and Helene saw by his man- 
 ner that he knew beforehand the object of her visit. 
 She felt intensely relieved by this discovery. It was he, 
 then, who had caused Clarise to be abducted, or, at all 
 events, it was he who detained the girl to help out in 
 some, as yet to her unexplained, way his nefarious 
 schemes of vengeance against herself. Had he not 
 sworn to ruin or destroy every one who had witnessed, 
 connived at or assisted in his humiliation and misfor- 
 tune ? Both Helene and Dumesnil had discovered long 
 ago that he had taken such an oath; and, whatever 
 might happen in the way of misfortune to any one who 
 had landed at Calais from the pacquet " La Charmante " 
 on that memorable morning so far in the past, that one 
 should look to the Marquis of B as its author. 
 
 Helene waited for the Marquis to speak; but he only 
 continued to smile insolently, toying the while with a 
 rich chain which hung about his ruffled throat. He
 
 318 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 was clad in a toilet of the period the last relic of the 
 old regime, when coats of satin and velvet, ruffles of 
 lace, frilled shirt-fronts, powdered hair, and their elab- 
 orate and sumptuous accessories, were still worn by the 
 remnant of the noblesse. He had his missing feature 
 artificially supplied, and, but for the bold wickedness of 
 his expression, would have impressed a stranger as a 
 handsome patrician. Part of this he was, and all of 
 this he had been. But to Helene, who read his soul, he 
 was a repulsive monster nothing more. 
 
 Tired of waiting for some admission of his com- 
 plicity with D'Artivan, she spoke again; and this time 
 imperiously: 
 
 "My lord, I have not come here to see you smile, or 
 to witness your unmanly exultation over an act of 
 revenge which would disgrace a galley-slave. I have 
 come to demand that you restore my maid to me. I was 
 told by your wretched tool and accomplice, D'Artivan, 
 that he carried her off while she was returning home 
 from an errand, and I have traced her to this house." 
 
 The Marquis eyed her with a sudden look of curi- 
 osity. 
 
 "Ah, you traced her here. Through whom, may I 
 ask you ? Not through D'Artivan, sarely." 
 
 " No. Outside of this house a few steps from here, 
 is the driver of the fiacre who brought D'Artivan and 
 his prey to this place." 
 
 The Marquis looked uncomfortable. He glanced 
 around the room uneasily, suspiciously, and his hand 
 unconsciously stole to the hilt of his sword, for he had 
 come down in full court costume as though to a ball in 
 the Tuilleries; the intense vanity of the man keeping 
 pace with his malignancy. 
 
 "And you think that your maid is here ? " inquired he, 
 slowly.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 319 
 
 " I have the best of reasons to believe she is here," 
 replied Helene, sternly; "and I trust you will produce 
 her at once." 
 
 " Is your maid, then, so dear to you," queried he, in 
 a voice of extreme bitterness, " that you can not spare 
 a thought or a few minutes for the man who has suffered 
 so much for you, given you such proofs of an imperish- 
 able love? Do you feel no remorse for the past time?" 
 
 The Marquis had risen, warming as he spoke, and 
 stood before her with his arms folded, his eyes glower- 
 ing down into hers, while she sat still, calmly observing 
 hun, her mind wandering after the invisible Clarise, who 
 now filled all her thoughts. Her cold and indifferent 
 manner began to exasperate him. With a fierce gesture 
 he flung his arms apart, and, bending over her until his 
 breath, hot with the fumes of brandy, fanned her cheek, 
 he said, in a hissing voice: 
 
 "Sorceress! Worthy spouse of Moloch! You gloat 
 over your victims, you are insatiable for more, you prac- 
 tice upon them the infernal arts of Lucifer; and yet you 
 think there is to be no punishment for you. Bah, you 
 are unlike the leopard in but one thing you can change 
 your spots! Thus you deceive, thus you succeed, and 
 thus you escape. But, I tell you, Helene Sainte Maur, 
 your 'divinity* has at last deserted you. You have 
 come here with the boldness and the confidence of one 
 who has befooled men too long to fear them. Well, we 
 shall see what you will think of one man now, since you 
 have thrust yourself into his power. Now, listen, my 
 beautiful Diana; you are here, and you shall remain 
 here! At last my vengeance is about to be complete; 
 and you, yourself, have helped me to make it so. Ha, 
 ha, do you know that I have been preparing to have 
 you here? That I have already provided you with a 
 maid? And one of your own choosing, too. Come, my
 
 320 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 beloved, for I told you many times in the past that you 
 were that, did I not? Come, then, let me conduct you 
 to your chamber; or, would you prefer that I should 
 summon your maid." 
 
 Helene had left her seat when the inflamed face of 
 the Marquis bent over her, and stepped back from him, 
 without evincing a particle of fear. Her eyes rested 
 undauntedly upon him while he stood gloating at her. 
 Had no succor been near, it is doubtful if she would 
 have felt a tremor. Scorn, loathing, anger and the 
 determination to rescue Clarise dominated every feel- 
 ing for herself. 
 
 When the Marquis offered jeeringly to send for her 
 maid, a thrill shot to Helene's heart. Instantly, but 
 with no apperances of eagerness, she said, indifferently: " 
 
 " You are not, then, entirely brutalized. As I am here 
 alone, send for my maid." 
 
 Eyeing her curiously, and with some freakish idea 
 stirring in his now overstimulated brain, the Marquis 
 bowed to her with a strained deference, went to the 
 door and called: 
 
 "Barbaroux! " 
 
 The valet w"as close at hand. 
 
 " Bring Mademoiselle's maid to her; and be careful 
 to hold her tightly by the hand, else she may run." 
 
 Helene's breath began to come in gasps. Was it in 
 fact Clarise who would enter the room in a moment or 
 two? Ah, pray Heaven it 
 
 The parlor door was suddenly thrown open, and a 
 young woman, with a closely shorn head, haggard, wild- 
 eyed, and dressed in shabby garments, slowly crept into 
 the parlor. Her face was of a dark tan color, her head 
 rested droopingly on her chin, and she did not look up. 
 Her hands were crossed behind her. 
 
 The shadows in the room were deep, and only stray
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 321 
 
 rays of the morning sun came timidly through the 
 Venetian blinds; but the indistinct light fell upon the 
 girl's thin figure, and Helene's heart sank. She turned 
 to the Marquis, who stood near the window, humming 
 in a jocular voice a couplet from a theatre ballad, and 
 sent her summons ringing upon his startled senses: 
 
 " Dumesnil! " 
 
 There was a crash, the tread of feet, and the Marquis 
 
 of B was shaking like a reed in the grasp of the 
 
 giant.
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 A BAFFLED VILLAIN. 
 
 The sword of the Marquis was at his side, in his 
 bosom was a loaded pistol ; but his hands were pinioned 
 to his breast by the wrists, and he was swayed back and 
 forth in the grip of a Hercules. Taken utterly by sur- 
 prise as he had been, he nevertheless lost neither his 
 courage nor his self-possession ; but, as Dumesnil forced 
 him down into a chair, his eyes, full of implacable hate, 
 looked unflinchingly into the skipper's face, and he 
 hissed out a question which, at least, was reasonable 
 
 "What do you mean by this assault?" 
 
 Before Dumesnil could answer, he was startled by a 
 scream from the other end of the room, followed by 
 another from Helene. Dumesnil started back from the 
 Marquis' chair, and turned toward the rest of his party, 
 who were already hovering over the form of the strangq 
 girl, who lay, as if dead, on the threshhold of the room, 
 Helene, kneeling down upon the carpet, was calling in 
 entreating tones : 
 
 "Clarise, Clarise, it is I, your mistress. Do you not 
 hear me ? " 
 
 In his astonishment Dumesnil forgot his prisoner, 
 and stood staring stupidly at the scene; while Duroc, 
 indulging his professional weakness, had drawn th 
 stolen tresses from his pocket, and was holding them 
 before the eyes of his bewildered patroness and smiling 
 triumphantly. 
 
 Dumesnil advanced to the group and peered eagerly 
 
 322
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 323 
 
 at the prostrate girl, who had just opened her eyes, and 
 now turned them with as look of intense affection upon 
 Helene. Yes, they were Clarise's eyes ; it was Clarise 
 herself, but 
 
 "My God!" shouted Dumesnil, gazing down upon 
 her with amazement; "what have they done to her?" 
 
 Clarise, who had lifted her eyes and looked at Helene 
 when the latter called to Dumesnil, had recognized her 
 mistress, and had tried to speak to her, but her voice 
 failed her, she was weak from fasting, and the shock of 
 Helene's presence overcame her. With a faint, pleading 
 cry, she sank to the floor, murmuring: 
 
 " My mistress! "and swooned away, as Helene started 
 toward her. 
 
 Meantime, everyone had been too absorbed in the 
 discovery of the lost Clarise, and in their attempts to 
 revive her, to think of the Marquis. But, as the girl 
 regained consciousness, Bompart stole a look at the 
 other end of the room, and cried: 
 
 "Hello! Where is the Marquis?" 
 
 The four men instantly focused their eyes upon the 
 empty chair, for empty it certainly was. Then they 
 made a simultaneous rush for the library, the door of 
 which Dumesnil had burst open when he was summoned 
 by Helene. The latter merely turned her head in the 
 direction they had taken, and quietly went on. bathing 
 the face of Clarise with the contents of her vinaigrette. 
 
 Duroc was the first to dash into the library. It had 
 no other entrance 1 but the window on the garden side 
 was open. The Marquis had not been as interested in 
 the condition of Clarise as the others had been, and had 
 naturally given his attention to his own case, and with 
 gratifying results. 
 
 Duroc was overcome with chagrin; Dumesnil with 
 disappointment,
 
 324 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 " Sacre! " growled the latter, " the scoundrel is a fox 
 as well as a wolf. He is off. Still, we will search the 
 house all the same." 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Duroc, angrily; " and I will not let 
 him get off the next time." 
 
 "Oh," laughed Dumesnil, who had now recovered 
 his good humor, as he sa'w Helene and Clarise sitting 
 together and looking very grateful, "the 'next time,' 
 my friend, is the invariable excuse of inexperience. It 
 is an apology." 
 
 Duroc colored with mortification. 
 
 "After all," he said, rallying, "we have done all that 
 we set out to do. We have captured the abductor, and 
 we have recovered the girl." 
 
 "And you have proved yourself a good hunter," 
 added Dumesnil, "since you have recovered a scalp." 
 
 The search throughout the house, of course, was 
 unavailing. Neither the Marquis nor his valet was 
 found; the villa was absolutely deserted, apparently, 
 and the explorers returned to the parlor. There they 
 were met by Helene with several commissions. 
 
 "Monsieur Dumesnil," said she, "you will find me a 
 room in the house where I can assist my maid to change 
 her clothing and appearance; and mind that there is 
 plenty of water and some soap, and several towels. You, 
 Monsieur Duroc, will go to the nearest cafe and order 
 a breakfast for all of us, to be sent here as quickly as 
 possible." 
 
 " What! " cried Dumesnil, astonished at this last com- 
 mand, "you will breakfast here, in this house?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Helene, smiling at his ludicrous 
 gestures. " Besides, Clarise has eaten nothing since 
 yesterday morning, and very little of anything since she 
 came here. She is very weak. Go, both of you."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 325 
 
 Duroc hurried out of the house to execute his com- 
 mission, with an amused smile on his face. 
 
 " Dame! " muttered he, " if we only had the Marquis, 
 I should enjoy my breakfast this morning, sacre, yes." 
 When Duroc returned, two servants from the cafe in 
 the Hotel d'Angleterre came behind him with two 
 immense waiters covered with large napkins of snowy 
 damask. In ten minutes' they had spread the contents 
 on the table in the dining-room, and the six uninvited 
 guests of the Marquis of B sat down to a delight- 
 ful breakfast, with the best possible appetites. Clarise 
 was transformed into her former self now, except that 
 she was very pale, and her cheess and form were not as 
 plump as was their wont. The tan had been washed 
 from her face, and the discovery that it had been 
 stained excited the curiosity of the men to such an 
 extent that they overwhelmed her with questions. But 
 Helene refused to permit her to talk. 
 
 "Do not insist on her answering now," said she; 
 "she is too weak, and she must eat and then rest, 
 before everything. We will go from here to my hotel, 
 and there you shall hear her tell her story. I promise 
 you it will be an interesting one." And Helene looked 
 with an affectionate smile at Clarise, into whose wan 
 face a little pink blush stole for a moment. 
 
 With this promise they contented themselves; and 
 the success of the morning, the happiness of the two 
 who were reunited and the novelty of the situation all 
 tended to make this breakfast one that was not to be 
 forgotten. It would probably have added to the zest of 
 the occasion if they had known that the Marquis and 
 Barbaroux were directly beneath them, in a secret sub- 
 cellar which the precious pair had burrowed out, and 
 in which they had concealed themselves a few minutes 
 after the master's escape from the parlor. Here they
 
 326 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 waited for an hour or more before venturing up; and 
 when they stole through the house and saw the various 
 evidences of a " free tenancy" of the premises by the 
 rescuing party, the Marquis turned to Barbaroux and 
 said: 
 
 " By Heaven, if I had that woman for a wife, I believe 
 I could conquer a continent." 
 
 Clarise had declared, ten minutes after finishing her 
 breakfast, that she felt a cold terror in remaining any 
 longer in the "house of Bluebeard"; that she felt sure 
 he was watching them from a place of concealment, and 
 begged her mistress to leave the horrid prison at once. 
 There was no occasion for remaining any longer, if not 
 on Clarise's account, and accordingly the whole body 
 unceremoniously abandoned the premises, the freakish 
 humor of Bompart moving him to hang upon the out- 
 side knob of the front door the discarded rags of Clarise, 
 with an inscription pinned to them: 
 
 " These are the clothes of a girl who was eaten by 
 the cannibal who inhabits this den." 
 
 No sooner were the doors of Helene's boudoir closed 
 upon the six tired adventurers than Clarise was impor- 
 tuned to tell the story of her imprisonment A glass 
 of wine was brought to her, she was made to recline on 
 the soft cushions of a divan, and, with her five eager list- 
 eners grouped around her. she began: 
 
 "You know how I was caught on the bridge, all of 
 you, especially you two," turning her eyes with a little 
 grimace, that was not at all spiteful, at the two young 
 men. Then, as they showed the most comical con- 
 fusion, and the most sorrowful contrition, she laughed 
 merrily, though in a pathetically weak voice, and said : 
 
 "Do not be distressed, however, you were deceived 
 by that horrid creature who was the " 
 
 Clarise's tone changed; she broke off the sentence
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 327 
 
 with a sob, as she looked down at her black dress. She 
 had suddenly thought that it was D'Artivan to whom 
 she owed all her misery, Paul's death, the mourning 
 garments she was wearing. There was a tear even in 
 Dumesnil's big eyes, as they watched the pitiful quiver- 
 ing of the pretty chin, of the tender little mouth, and 
 the silent effort she made to repress her emotion. 
 
 In a moment or two she continued: 
 
 " I had no idea where I was being taken; but the 
 fiacre had not gone far when it stopped. I could not 
 hear what was said then, but I was carried by two per- 
 sons into the house where you found me, and up a stair- 
 way. When the cloak was taken off I looked quickly 
 around, and saw D'Artivan and the Marquis and that 
 old valet Barbaroux standing over me. They had 
 placed me on a chair, in a room in the top of the house; 
 the'one I showed to you, Mademoiselle, and which had 
 only one little window. Two lamps were burning on 
 the shelf, and I could see the faces of the three men 
 quite plainly. D'Artivan was laughing to himself, like 
 a demon; the Marquis was looking at me as if he was 
 considering what I would sell for, or what I would be 
 good for. I learned the very next morning what his 
 look meant, as you will see. Barbaroux was looking 
 sullen. 
 
 " Well, they soon left me, the Marquis telling the 
 valet to lock the door on the outside and keep the key 
 in his own pocket. I was greatly distressed when I 
 thought of how defenceless I was. I went to wonder- 
 ing whether Mademoiselle would ever find me; if 
 D'Artivan meant to kill me, because I had had wounded 
 him ; if the wretches intended to keep me there or take me 
 somewhere else. Then I fell to trembling, and at last 
 I fell asleep in my chair. 
 
 " I nras disturbed once by some one trying the door, I
 
 328 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 think; and when I was quite awake in the morning 
 Barbaroux came to the room, unlocked the door, and 
 walked in. He had a bundle in one hand, and a waiter 
 with food on it in the other. I was very hungry, and I 
 wanted to keep up my strength, so that I might be the 
 better able to help myself, so I ate my breakfast. 
 
 " Barbaroux sat by the window while I ate, and when 
 I had finished I said to him: 
 
 " What is your name? " 
 
 "He was very sullen, and he did not wish to talk, but 
 he answered, 'Barbaroux/ Then I asked him what I 
 had been brought there for. He looked at me a minute 
 without speaking, and then he got up and opened the 
 bundle. What do you think was in it? Mon Dieu, only 
 some ragged clothing, and a dark, moist sponge! 
 
 "' What are these things for?' I asked, quite aston- 
 ished. 'They are for you,' answered the man, 'and as 
 soon as I go out you are to dress yourself in them and 
 fold up your own clothes and place them on this chair. 
 Then, you are to take this sponge, and apply it to your 
 face and hands, until you have given them a nice brown 
 color, like the Marseillaise women have. You must noc 
 be too long at it, either, because my master will come 
 to you shortly, since it is he who will tell you what you 
 are here for.' 
 
 " Do you think I was not astonished, or angry? Do 
 you think I was frightened? Well, I was so much aston- 
 ished that I could not speak for a whole minute. Then 
 I became so angry that I ran to the chair upon which 
 Barbaroux had laid the clothes, and, picikng them up, I 
 carried them to the window, intending to throw them 
 out into the garden; but the window was fastened, and 
 the shutters were closed and nailed. I threw the rags on 
 the floor, and faced the man: 
 
 '"You old wretch, '. I screamed; 'do you think I will
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 329 
 
 ever put on those tatters, or paint myself either? No. 
 Do you hear? No, no-o!' 
 
 "You see, I was not a bit afraid, that is just then. 
 But Barbaroux only laughed to himself, and yes, I will 
 tell you what he said: ' Oh, if you require a lady's maid, 
 I am very skilful. I am going away now; but I will 
 come back in half an hour, and if your toilet is not then 
 finished well, the Marquis says that I must dress you 
 myself!" 
 
 " Before I could recover from this monstrous speech, 
 the wretch had gone out. Then I was afraid. I sat 
 down and trembled, and I thought: 'After all, what does 
 it matter? I must be wise, if I hope for any help out of 
 this/ So I put on the clothes, and you saw what a 
 fright I was in them, did you not? And then I painted 
 my skin, and made myself so horrid that I could not 
 help laughing. 
 
 " Directly the Marquis came, wearing his green flap 
 over his nose. He sat down and looked at me. I looked 
 at him also, and said nothing. 
 
 '"Do you want your liberty?' ashed he, after a little. 
 I replied, 'That is foolish; everything wants liberty.' 
 He smiled at this, and said: 'Perhaps you would like 
 to be rich?' I began to feel uneasy again. But I 
 answered him, quite severely: 'Perhaps.' 
 
 " Then the villain got up, and, coming up to me, he 
 held out a large handful of beautiful diamonds, moving 
 them before my eyes so that they sparkled like little 
 ( suns, and said, in a low voice: 
 
 "'All these are yours, if you will do one thing for 
 me/ 
 
 "I began to feel more afraid than at first. 'What is 
 that one thing?' I asked him, and I recollect that my 
 voice was quite as low as his. He leaned over my chair, 
 and said:
 
 330 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 '"I will give you a deadly poison in a little vial and 
 you will put ten drops of it in your mistress's coffee, 
 and ten drops into the coffee of Sir Philip Belmore, the 
 first time they breakfast together at the chateau. I know 
 they do so at least once a week, and it will not be at all 
 difficult for you to do this for me, and you can not be 
 discovered, because in these irregular times there are no 
 investigations. Then, as soon as they are dead, which 
 will be the case within an hour, you may come to me, 
 and I will give you these jewels; they are worth one 
 hundred thousand francs, and you can buy a pretty 
 husband and a pretty cottage with them. Will you 
 earn them!' 
 
 " Mon Dieu! What do you think I did then? " 
 
 Bompart, who had been leaning forward, lost in the 
 recital, and drawing his breath excitedly, surprised 
 every one with an answer: 
 
 " Noble girl; you refused. " 
 
 Every one smiled except Clarise, who looked at Bom- 
 part disdainfully. 
 
 " Well, I was no more afraid, I was enraged. I 
 sprang out of my chair, and with both my hands I caught 
 the villain by his cravat, and twisted it so hard that it 
 made his face purple, before he could release himself. 
 He threw me away from him, and I fell against the arm 
 of a chair and fainted. 
 
 " When I came to my senses, Barbaroux was sitting 
 over me. I was lying on a sofa, and my head and fore- 
 head were bound with a wet handkerchief. I felt very 
 queer on top of my head, and I put my hand up to see 
 what was the matter. My God! they had cut off my 
 hair! Well, I gave a frightful scream, and fainted again. 
 " Nobody was in the room when I recovered that
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 331 
 
 time; but Barbaroux came to bring me my dinner, and 
 when he put it down, he whispered to me? 
 
 " ' Do not eat of the soup, nor the meat, neither at this 
 nor any meal here.' 
 
 "I was frozen. I could only gasp out to the man, 
 as he went out: 
 
 " ' What is to be done with me? ' " 
 
 " Barbaroux hesitated a little, and then came into 
 the room again, and whispered: ' As soon as you are abso- 
 lutely under the influence of the drug which is in the 
 food, and which only causes the mind to wander, and 
 creates a stupor, but does not put the brain to sleep, 
 D'Artivan will carry you away, the Bon Dieu knows 
 whither. Be careful! ' ' 
 
 " After that, I was afraid to eat at all, and by this time 
 I should probably have been stupefied from starvation if 
 you had not come." 
 
 Clarise had finished her story, which had certainly 
 not been tedious to her friends. Bompart had mani- 
 fested the most feeling during its recitals; and as she 
 concluded and sank back exhausted on her cushions, he 
 rose and went to her. 
 
 "Ah, Mademoiselle!' said he, seizing her hand; "it 
 is of you that I have dreamed, it is of you that I shall 
 always dream from this moment. You are a heroine! " 
 
 It was plainly seen by the rest that Bompart had been 
 captured by the pretty prisoner herself. 
 
 Just at this moment there was a loud commotion 
 in the street. Vehicles were rumbling along at an 
 unwonted speed in the quiet and slow Faubourg, a babble 
 of voices sounded through the great mansion as if it 
 had suddenly been invaded, and the tramp of thousands 
 of feet upon the stone pavements drew everv one to the 
 windows. 
 
 A great throng was passing; a throng in whirl) there
 
 332 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 were mocking and jeering faces, faces that were stern 
 and gloomy, faces that wore an expression of terror. 
 They were all turned in the direction of the field of 
 blood Place de la Revolution. 
 
 " What can it mean ? " queried Helene, with a sinking 
 voice. 
 
 As if the throng had heard her shrinking question, a 
 hoarse and deep-lunged cartman rose and stood upon the 
 seat of his tumbril as it rattled past, and shouted to the 
 people in the houses: 
 
 " Marie Antoinette is going to the bldfck to-day ! A 
 bas 1'Austrienne ' " 
 
 And as the brute's voice died on the choking air, a 
 woman, whose white face rivaled the marble of Diana's, 
 sank down at the window of the stone chateau, and was 
 covered with the hands over which the Queen of France 
 and Navarre had wept.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE QUEEN IS DEAD. 
 
 The Queen was dead. The last great tie that had 
 bound Helene St. Maur was snapped when the axe of 
 the assassin fell upon the neck of the defenceless and 
 unoffending victim of French malevolence, brutality and 
 communism. The chateau was a house of mourning, 
 and its occupant and mistress was preparing to depart 
 from a land she had learned to loathe. 
 
 On the twentieth of October, Helene's arrangements 
 having been completed, she sent for Danton. 
 
 Danton was now at the zenith of his power. He was 
 a lion among the stern and bloodstained spirits of the 
 Revolution, but to Helene St. Maur he was a slave. 
 Not that she imposed such bondage upon him ; on the 
 contrary, she had told him in distinct but gentle 
 language that her lines and his lay far apart. He had 
 accepted her dictum, but still he hovered about her, 
 comforted by her presence, held back from many an 
 imprudent or merciless act by her influence. 
 
 When he came to her now, he appeared cast down, 
 although he knew nothing yet of her determination to 
 leave France. Helene observed his disquietude, and 
 inquired the cause of it. 
 
 "The sun is setting upon France," said he, sadly; 
 "That last sigh of Marie Antoinette will sound in every 
 court of Europe, and wake the spirit of retribution in 
 the breast of every ruler. The death of Louis XVI. was 
 a mistake; the death of his Queen was a crime." 
 
 333
 
 334 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Helena, bitterly; "and a crime 
 which France will expiate with misfortunes and humili- 
 ations for three generations." 
 
 " I fear for her future," sighed the great leader. 
 
 Helene informed him of her desire to leave France 
 at once. 
 
 "Ah, you are going, then?" exclaimed he, drooping 
 his massive head upon his hand. Then, after musing 
 for a few moments, he said, in a troubled voice: 
 
 "With you departs hope. I am rushing upon a dark 
 fate; my life is going out; I am approaching a cata- 
 clysm." 
 
 A shudder passed over him; he seemed to feel the 
 edge of the axe which within a half-year was to rob 
 him of life 
 
 It was some time before he raised his head; but his 
 features had then resumed the look of boldness so often 
 marked by those who watched him in the Convention. 
 
 " You will require passports," said he, remembering 
 that she had sent for him. 
 
 " For myself and my household," answered Helene, 
 quietly. 
 
 Danton reflected a moment and said: 
 
 "You have an eccentric acquaintance named Dumes- 
 nil, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes," replied she, regarding him with some uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 "Does he accompany you?" 
 
 "He is anxious to go to England," returned Helene; 
 and added, "he has volunteered to go in my escort 
 until the frontier is crossed." 
 
 "And where do you propose to cross?" 
 
 " At a point near Metz." 
 
 Danton regarded her with surprise. 
 
 "What, you go to Austria or Germany, then?"
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 335 
 
 " I shall travel, but my destination is Italy, as I 
 usually spend my winters there. I wish to travel for a 
 month or more before going there, however, to divert 
 my thoughts from the recent fearful occurrences." 
 
 " Very well," said Danton, gloomily; "to-morrow I 
 will send you passports that will protect you. How 
 many will accompany you besides this Monsieur Dumes- 
 nil?" 
 
 Danton was thinking of her servants, and not of the 
 possibility of her taking others with her. But Helene 
 answered: 
 
 " The number is yet uncertain. Can not the papers 
 read for myself and household?" 
 
 Danton considered. " That would hardly do," said 
 he; "I will make them for yourself and ten others," he 
 concluded, with a humorous look; " that will certainly 
 answer all your requirements." 
 
 Without waiting for her thanks, he took her hand, 
 raised it to his lips, and, while he imprinted upon it a 
 fervid kiss, he murmured: 
 
 " Farewell ! " 
 
 Then he left her, walking from the boudoir with an 
 agitated step, and without turning his head to look at 
 her, as he passed into the corridor. 
 
 Sir Philip and his party, with the exception of 
 Dumesnil, were still in the Catacombs. They must be 
 communicated with, and it would require the most care- 
 ful management to get them back into the chateau. 
 Helene waited for the passports before sending for the 
 Captain. They came about noon on the following day, 
 and the Captain was then immediately summoned. He 
 was overjoyed at the sight of the papers. It only 
 remained now to assemble. It was his task to bring the 
 brothers, with their servants, to the chateau, and, after 
 a consultation with Helene, he decided to take with
 
 336 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 him six outfits for as many workingmen, the sizes to 
 permit the clothing to be worn over that of the persons 
 they were intended for. That night at eleven o'clock, 
 Dumesnil made the first of three visits which were neces- 
 sary, since to have carried more than two suits of the 
 clothing at once would have led to detection. 
 
 At twelve o'clock on the next night the three Eng- 
 lishmen, Dumesnil, Helene and Clarise, and the three 
 valets, stood in the boudoir, the windows of which had 
 been closely shuttered, and the heavy curtains drawn. 
 
 It was a memorable meeting, a solemn convention. 
 They had yet to pass through perils that would threaten, 
 confront, follow, or surround them at every step of the 
 route to the Rhine. At the porte cochere outside stood a 
 berlin and four, and in front of it four powerful horses 
 under saddle. The hour set for their departure was twelve 
 midnight. All the servants had that day been sent 
 away; the only information given them was that their 
 mistress was on the eve of departure, her usual custom at 
 this season of the year, and they manifested no surprise. 
 One of the women, however, had grumbled considerably 
 on leaving, a housemaid named Jeannette. This girl 
 had shown a decidedly inquisitive disposition since she 
 came into Helene's service a few months previously, and 
 had been often absent from the chateau without giving 
 any satisfactory reason therefor. Helene would have 
 discharged her some weeks before had she not expected 
 soon to dispense with all her help. The girl was the 
 last to leave, and was seen by Clarise, who looked upon 
 her with suspicion, to loiter at the end of the Square for 
 several minutes, standing in the glare of the lantern 
 above Her, with her face turned steadfastly toward the 
 chateau, as if watching it with some sinister purpose. 
 When she disappeared she started in the direction of 
 the Pont Royal, northward.
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 337 
 
 A distant church bell was sounding a quarter past 
 twelve, when the berlin, followed by four horsemen (the 
 three brothers and Dumesnil, who were attired now as 
 domestic servants) moved leisurely out of the court- 
 house. The sky was dimly starred, and the night 
 shadowy and still. Helene and Clarise were inside the 
 coach, the two servants of Hubert and Ralph Meltham 
 were on the box beside Guppy, who wore the livery of 
 Mademoiselle's coachman. Dumesnil's costume was 
 that of a footman, that of Sir Philip had belonged to her 
 steward, while the brothers wore the livery of the 
 grooms. There was nothing to excite suspicion in the 
 appearance or departure of the travelers, after they had 
 been manipulated by Helene's artistic hands, and as the 
 passports they carried were signed by the then most 
 powerful man in all France, they felt comparatively safe 
 from immediate danger. 
 
 Just as they turned into the boulevart they were 
 startled by the sound of footsteps behind them. Some 
 one was running after the berlin. They could now'hear 
 him breathing, and 
 
 " Hold on! " came the next instant, and a dark figure 
 darted alongside of the coach, and grasped the handle 
 of the door. Guppy drew up quickly, and called, in a 
 subdued voice: 
 
 " ' Ere you ! Wot are you capering after, come! " 
 
 But Helene had recognized Bompart, who had thrust 
 his head in at the open window. 
 
 "Silence, Guppy,' called she. And to Bompart: 
 
 "What is it, Monsieur?' 
 
 "Oh, Mademoiselle," panted the young man; "do 
 not stop here. Let me get into the coach and ride along, 
 while I tell you what I have run all the way from the 
 Rue St. Denis to tell you." 
 
 "Get in, then," ordered Helene, vaguely uneasy,
 
 338 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 but absolutely calm. She had lived too long in the 
 midst of dangers and alarms to lose composure, even in 
 the face of them. 
 
 Bompart scrambled into the berlin and seated him- 
 self by the side of Clarise. The berlin started forward 
 again, and in a few minutes the entire party were cross- 
 ing the Place St. Michel. Bompart had recovered his 
 breath, but he was greatly agitated, and it was only 
 when the bridge was reached that he was able to pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 "Mademoiselle/' he began, "will you permit me to 
 lower the blind on this side? " 
 
 " Do so, if you think it necessary," replied she, won- 
 dering at his manner. In a moment he had drawn the 
 curtain and sat crouched against it, as if he feared being 
 seen by some one outside, which indeed was the case. 
 
 "Now, Mademoiselle, listen. An hour ago I went 
 to the office of the Diligences, in the Rue St. Denis, 
 near Filles-Dieu, just a hundred yards from where we 
 are at this very moment, to see if I could secure a seat 
 for Calais; for you must know that I am a 'suspect' 
 since yesterday, and have been hiding by keeping away 
 from my lodgings. I am going to England, or any- 
 where out of this cursed country. Well, pardon me; 
 it is not of this of which I have to speak. So, when I 
 found that there would be no diligence leaving for 
 Calais until Friday, I sat down outside, in the shadow 
 of the Filles-Dieu, to think what I should do. While I 
 sat there cuddled on a stone block, two men came up to 
 the spot and stood within ten feet of me. I kept quite 
 still, trembling with apprehension, but it was too dark 
 for them to see me in the shadow there. Well, they 
 began to talk in low tones to each other, and in a min- 
 ute or two I discovered by his voice that one of them
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 339 
 
 was that Marquis of B . He was saying to the 
 
 other: 
 
 " 'Are you certain that she is going to-night?' 
 
 " And the other one answered, ' I saw the girl Jean- 
 nette herself two hours ago. I said to her that I hoped 
 she had something to tell me, and I gave her the weekly 
 wages, although she had not yet earned any. Jeannette 
 answered that she had very important news; that with- 
 out a doubt her mistress would leave Paris at midnight, 
 on her way out of France, provided with passports for 
 herself, that Captain Dumesnil, and her servants. That 
 all the servants she did not want had been to-day dis- 
 missed, and the chateau was at that moment as dark, as 
 silent, as empty as the Bastille. That Mademoiselle 
 goes to Metz, and will travel through the Rhenish 
 country and through Austria, and will finally go to 
 Italy for the winter.' 
 
 " The Marquis listened to this with a great deal of 
 interest, and, from his constantly moving his hands in a 
 nervous manner, I judged he was greatly excited. When 
 the man finished telling him, he said, earnestly: ' Come, 
 then, let us take seats in the diligence for Metz. Fortu- 
 nately, Sunday is one of its leaving days, and, as the dili- 
 gence is to start at twelve, we are in time. Have you the 
 passports? ' 
 
 "'Yes, my lord/ the man replied, 'and I think I 
 made a capital imitation of Robespierre's signature. 
 Lucky that we had some of his old letters about that 
 Dudevant scandal, and his seal, pardieu; otherwise, I do 
 not believe we could have succeeded. ' 
 
 " Then," concluded Bompart, " they moved off toward 
 the diligence office, and I heard no more of their con- 
 versation. No sooner were they out of sight, than I 
 started to come to you as fast as my legs would take 
 me, I thought perhaps you would desire that excel-
 
 34 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 lent Duroc to pursue the Marquis and capture him. 
 You see I could not denounce him myself, and, besides, 
 Mademoiselle, it was you who ought to know at once 
 that he has some new plot on foot." 
 
 Helene had said nothing to interrupt this narrative, 
 and her countenance expressed no emotion. Her lips 
 were compressed, and her eyes assumed a sterness rarely 
 seen in them, and that was all. 
 
 "I am greatly obliged to you, sir," she said, in a com- 
 posed voice, " for the trouble you have taken to inform 
 me of this. And now, may I ask what you intend doing 
 for yourself? If you are sought for, and are still in 
 Paris, you will undoubtedly be found ; and to be found 
 is to be doomed." 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle," exclaimed Bompart, shudder- 
 ing at the danger of his position, " I am only too well 
 convinced of that. Well, will you advise me?" 
 
 " Poor fellow," murmured Clarise, who thought of 
 Paul at the moment. 
 
 But Bompart turned toward Clarise with a face glow- 
 ing with gratitude : 
 
 " Oh! you sympathize with me ; do you not?" 
 
 Helene had been thinking rapidly. This young man's 
 life would certainly be sacrificed to the universal thirst 
 for blood if he remained another day in Paris. And it 
 was perhaps in her power to save him. Her resolution 
 was taken. 
 
 "Monsieur Bompart," said she, " I have passports 
 for myself and household, to the number of eleven. We 
 number only ten ; there is fortunately one vacancy, by 
 the merest chance. I will attach you to my suite as my 
 private secretary, and you will pass under the nom de 
 plume of Alfred Verdalle. Remain, therefore, where you 
 are, and do not forget your position, and especially your 
 name Verdalle."
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 341 
 
 This sudden and wonderful escape from the gravest 
 dilemma Bompart had ever encountered overwhelmed 
 him with surprise, gratitude and joy. He sank on his 
 knees, and, seizing Helene's gloved hand, pressed it to 
 his lips, murmuring, while his eyes filled : 
 
 "Ah, Mademoiselle, you are my benefactress; you 
 shall command me to die for you, and I will do it! " 
 
 The tender little heart of Clarise was touched. She 
 placed her hand upon the shoulder of Bompart, and 
 whispered: 
 
 " I am very glad. You are a lucky person, Monsieur 
 Bompart." 
 
 Bompart moved closer to Clarise, and, looking at 
 her with a smile of profound appreciation, exclaimed: 
 
 " Ciel, I should say so! " 
 
 At that moment the berlin, which was now rolling 
 on at a very rapid rate of speed, followed by the four 
 riders at a gallop, passed the Metz diligence. A man's 
 head was thrust out of the window next to Helene, and, 
 by the light of the berlin's lantern, she saw the face of 
 the Marquis of B scowling at her escort behind. At 
 the same instant Clarise, who had been looking up at 
 the driver's seat, smothered a cry, and shrunk back in 
 her corner. 
 
 "Good Heavens, Mademoiselle/' she whispered, 
 " there is Barbaroux! "
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 ON THE MOSELLE. 
 
 The waters ot the blue Moselle were dancing in the 
 bosom of the Alsatian valley, catching the gold of the 
 October sun, and throwing it back in moulten waves. 
 On the wind-swept current a white sail spread its arms 
 like the wings of a huge albatross; and under the shift- 
 ing shadow sat the travelers whom we left in the streets 
 of Paris speeding toward Metz. 
 
 At that historic town they had chartered a boat to 
 carry them to the mouth of the Moselle, at Coblentz; 
 and they were now approaching the fortifications of 
 that, the strongest of Prussia's frontier towns. Already 
 they could see, rising on the opposite side of the Rhine 
 and overlooking Coblentz, the fortress of Ehrenbreit- 
 stein perched on its vaulting rock, hundreds of feet 
 above the river. The forest-crowned Vosges stretched 
 away in purple distance, and a land of peace spread its 
 smiling fields to the right, as they sailed on the mur- 
 murous river. 
 
 Such a throng of awful memories were passing in the 
 minds of the travelers, that they spoke not, but sat in 
 quiet reverie, reviewing with little prayers of thank- 
 fulness that they were over the blood-red scenes, the 
 Hadean tragedies they had witnessed, in the land of rev- 
 olution. It was past ; and as this happy conviction 
 came back to Clarise, her white throat suddenly swelled 
 with sound, and over the joyous river rippled the music 
 of a song. On the banks where the boatmen were dry- 
 
 342
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 343 
 
 ing their sails, in the fields where the harvesters were 
 gathering the grain, on the hill-sides where the shepherds 
 were watching their browsing herds, the song of thanks- 
 giving made them pause to listen, as it throbbed on the 
 autumn air. 
 
 Then there was silence again, but the melody dying 
 in the distant hills re-echoed again and again in the 
 grateful hearts of those who were fleeing forever from 
 the land of storm and blood. 
 
 Closer and swifter, as it felt the deepening current 
 of the river hastening to its union with the Rhine, the 
 white-sailed boat sped down upon the bustling town, and 
 every eye was turned toward the rock of Ehrenbreitstein. 
 
 Sir Philip sat at the side of Helene, musing. He had 
 been silent so long that she bent a curious glance upon 
 him. 
 
 "Will you awake before we arrive ? " asked she. 
 
 He returned her smile, and taking her hand with a 
 tenderness that brought a blush to her cheek, 
 
 " Do you see the Rhine yonder, how it leaps and 
 sparkles when the Moselle sinks into its embrace ? Ah, 
 surely, you must be weary of the isolation you imposed 
 upon your heart. You have seen the great, how they 
 were bowed to the dust in shame; how they were racked 
 with the agony of death; how they fell from the top- 
 most heights of power into an abyss. And the shame, 
 the agony, the ruin were they not caused solely by 
 ambition ? Believe me, it is sweeter to be human than 
 to be god-like with human attributes. I have waited 
 long; I have followed you far; let us rest; let us rest ! " 
 
 He raised her hand to his lips, and he felt it tremble; 
 he looked into her eyes, and he saw them droop; he 
 whispered a word, and her mouth quivered. She turned 
 her head from him, but her hand lay still in his. Was 
 she yielding to her lord at last ?
 
 344 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 The Saxon blood in Belmore's veins was once more 
 leaping through them as madly as when he first drew 
 sword for her behind the convent at Boulogne; but how 
 different were his emotions now ! It was love that 
 stirred it now; and heaven, he believed, was opening 
 before him. Burning words were springing to his lips, 
 when 
 
 "Look! Oh, look!" 
 
 This cry, breaking suddenly from Clarise, who sat in 
 the bow of the boat, with finger pointed up the river, 
 and eyes staring in affright at what she saw, brought Sir 
 Philip out of his dream, as it woke the others from 
 their sweet reveries. 
 
 For some time, perhaps half an hour, they had 
 noticed another boat with two sails gliding down behind 
 them, and rapidly overtaking their own. But two men 
 were visible on the deck, and these two had appeared 
 to be making superhuman efforts to increase their speed. 
 At the moment that Clarise cried out, this boat had run 
 close to the stern of theirs, and, as it veered to the right, 
 a dozen ruffianly fellows suddenly threw off a huge sail- 
 cloth under which they had been hid, and sprang to 
 the side of their vessel, brandishing cutlasses in their 
 powerful hands. 
 
 Both the boats at this time were close to the side of 
 the river farthest from the town; the bank itself was not 
 more than twenty feet distant; and the city was hidden 
 from view. It was an isolated inlet, from the heel of 
 which rose precipitately the hill of Ehrenbreitstein. The 
 sun had just left its last beam quivering on the waters, 
 and deep shadows were closing over the spot. 
 
 The quick glance that followed Clarise's cry revealed 
 enough to bring every one in the forward boat to his 
 feet, and every sword from its concealment. On the 
 deck of the hindmost vessel stood the Marquis of B , a
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 345 
 
 Cutlass in one hand, a pistol in the other, in the midst of 
 a crew of ruffians which, too plainly, he had hired to 
 pursue and capture his fleeing enemies. His face was 
 inflamed with passions at once demoniac and joyous; 
 and his voice rang out with triumph as he shouted: 
 "Surrender, if you would save your lives! " 
 But Dumesnil, standing in front of the rest, sent 
 back a warning which kindled a flame of fury in the 
 breast of the renegade nobleman: 
 
 "Scoundrel ! Do you still wish to lose your ears?" 
 "Board them!" shouted the Marquis, brandishing 
 his cutlas, and aiming his pistol at the skipper's breast; 
 " board them, and spare none of the men. Take the 
 women alive. Forward!" 
 
 In the midst of his crew he sprang upon the rail, and 
 at the same instant fired at Dumesnil; but the bullet 
 went wide of its mark, for the latter had darted forward 
 to cut down the foremost of the assassins, whom he sent 
 shrieking and dying over the gunwale. Sir Philip was 
 advancing upon the Marquis, the brothers had rushed 
 to the side of their own vessel to repel the boarders, and 
 the valets with Bompart, at a shout from Dumesnil, 
 were taking in the sails. Before the deck was invaded 
 it was cleared for action, and, after Guppy had hurried 
 Helene and Clarise down into a little cabin below deck, 
 the whole force stood, sword in hand, at the side of the 
 careening pinnace. Then ensued as fierce a struggle 
 as ever left its victims in the bosom of the beautiful 
 river. Fifteen fierce and merciless hirelings, headed by an 
 infuriated madman, with the yells of fiends, leaped over 
 the rails of the two vessels, and, landing upon the deck, 
 bore down with unparalleled fury on the eight men who 
 had gathered to oppose them. The fight was hand to 
 hand, breast to breast, at the beginning of the onset, 
 and thus there was little advantage in the skill of the
 
 346 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 lesser over the brawn of the greater force. But, fortu- 
 nately for our friends, Dumesnil's enormous strength 
 soon cleared a space around him, into which his com- 
 panions gathered, forming a circle with faces outward, 
 and the odds became less terrible. The play of Bel- 
 more's sword was continuous, and thrice he drove it 
 into the arm or bosom of an assailant. Hubert and 
 Ralph did noble work, and succeeded in cutting down 
 two of the ruffians; and Bompart, although but a fair 
 swordsman, felt his arm nerved by the thought of 
 Clarise, and held one of the sailors at bay. Guppy and 
 his fellow-valets, unskilled in the use of sword, wrapped 
 the sleeves of their jackets, which they tore off, around 
 the blades, and with the heavy hilts dealt tremendous 
 blows upon the skulls of their adversaries, until both 
 Grosscup and Trotter were run through by thrusts that 
 were mortal. 
 
 The only pistol in the hands of either side was that 
 of the Marquis; and when it failed upon Dumesnil he 
 threw it into the river, with a curse, and hurled himself 
 forward, cutlas in hand, vociferating his ferocious 
 orders to his band of cut-throats. 
 
 The contest had lasted for nearly half an hour; the 
 echoes were rumbling among the hills, as steel struck 
 steel, and yell answered yell. In vain had Sir Philip 
 pressed toward the Marquis, across the deck. The 
 boards were slippery with blood, the combatants were 
 huddled in one writhing mass, now at one point, now 
 at another, while the leader of the gang darted among 
 them, stabbing, slashing, shouting and cursing, but 
 always eluding the man who followed him from place 
 to place with the persistency of fate. 
 
 At last the baronet thought he had his arch-enemy 
 where he could not escape; and was rushing toward 
 him to impale him, as he surely would have done, when
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 347 
 
 a voice of command was heard descending from the 
 rocky height, and every hand was stayed. 
 
 "Peace on your lives? " 
 
 The blood-shot eyes of the men were upturned, and, 
 to their astonishment and the dismay of the Marquis' 
 band, they saw a hundred muskets pointed at them. 
 
 An officer in a roquelaure stood a few steps lower 
 
 down, and in front of the detachment, holding his sword 
 
 above his head while he shouted to the combatants to 
 
 , desist; and as soon as the fighting ceased, he gave the 
 
 order. 
 
 " Forward by twos, march!" and led his men rapidly 
 down the steep. 
 
 In five minutes the soldiers had possession of both 
 boats and their occupants. The Marquis, who had 
 made an effort to leap overboard, was seized, his arms 
 pinioned behind, and a guard placed over him. Then 
 an inventory of the casualties was taken. 
 
 Four of the Marquis' crew had been killed outright, 
 and six of the remainder seriously or fatally wounded. 
 Of Sir Philip's party, not one except himself had 
 escaped a wound. Dumesnil had received a severe 
 thrust in the left shoulder, Hubert and Ralph had each 
 the marks of the cutlas on their arms, Bompart was cut 
 on both arms slightly, while Guppy bore testimony to 
 his having been at close quarters with a pike, with 
 which one of the sailors had literally torn his coat in 
 two, and scraped a broad furrow across his breast. The 
 two friends, who had for the last time fought with him, 
 lay on their backs on deck, pierced to the heart. Guppy 
 stooped over them reverently, took their lifeless hands 
 in his and told them farewell in tones as pathetic as they 
 were quaint. A detail of four soldiers was left in 
 charge of the boats, with orders to bury the dead, and 
 attend to the wounded until a relief party and a sur-
 
 34 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 
 
 geon could be sent to them; and then the surviving bel- 
 ligerents preceded their escort up the path that led to 
 the fortress. 
 
 The leader of the troops heard from Sir Philip on 
 the way the story of the fight. He was a courteous and 
 sensible man, and he did not hesitate to express his 
 indignation at the fiendish conduct of the Marquis of 
 
 B , who stalked sullenly between his guards, casting 
 
 from time to time at Helene, who walked at the side of 
 Sir Philip, looks of the most furious and malignant 
 hate. Bompart had taken Clarise under his protection; 
 and in this fashion the castle was reached. 
 
 It was almost night when the frowning walls of the 
 friendly fortress held our tired and wounded travelers; 
 but the old Roman stronghold never held more grateful 
 hearts nor more peaceful sleepers than on this night 
 which brought their perilous adventures to an end. 
 
 On the morning following, while Sir Philip and 
 Helene walked hand-in-hand through the chapel-room, 
 used of old by the knights who sojourned in the castle, 
 a graybearded priest, sandaled and gaberdined, came 
 slowly toward them. His kindly face, seamed with the 
 honorable scars of Time, was turned upon them smil- 
 ingly; and, as his wrinkled hand was outstretched to 
 welcome them, he said: 
 
 "It seems to me old Ehrenbreitstein will celebrate 
 some noble nuptials soon; and that I, Fathef Mant- 
 chein, sacristan, will bid ye Godspeed as ye leave 
 together!" 
 
 At that moment two guards were passing the wide 
 entrance with a prisoner between them, on their way to 
 the commandant. The prisoner was the Marquis of 
 
 B ; and as he glanced into the chapel at the three so 
 
 suggestively grouped there, he uttered a terribly cry, 
 and was dragged along by his guards to hear the judg-
 
 HELENE SAINTE MAUR. 349 
 
 ment pronounced upon him for the crimes he had per- 
 petrated and incited on German territory. 
 
 The October sun looked into the old chapel of 
 Ehrenbreitstein, while this was passing, and rested like 
 a crown of gold upon two noble heads, as they bent in 
 prayer at the little altar of stone. 
 
 THE END.