Chapter II: Murphy and Polidori

Sir Walter Murphy's features were beaming with satisfaction. When he alighted from the carriage he gave a brace of pistols to one of the prince's servants, took off his long travelling coat, and, without giving himself time to change his clothes, followed Rodolph, who impatiently had preceded him to his apartment.

"Good news, monseigneur! Good news!" exclaimed the squire, when he was alone with Rodolph; "the wretches are unmasked, M. d'Orbigny is saved. You despatched me just in time; one hour later and another crime would have been committed."

"And Madame d'Harville?"

"Is overjoyed at having again acquired her father's affection; and full of happiness at having arrived, thanks to your advice, in time to snatch him from certain death."

"So, then, Polidori--"

"Was, in this instance, the worthy accomplice of Madame d'Harville's stepmother. But what a wretch is this stepmother! What _sang-froid_! What audacity! And this Polidori! Ah, monseigneur, you have frequently desired to thank me for what you call my proofs of devotion."

"I have always said proofs of friendship, my dear Murphy."

"Well, monseigneur, never--no, never--has this friendship been exposed to a severer trial than in this present case!" said the squire, with an air half serious, half pleasant.

"What mean you?"

"The disguises of the coalman, the peregrinations in the Cite, and all that sort of thing, they have been as nothing, actually nothing, when compared with the journey I have just made with that infernal Polidori."

"What do you mean? Polidori?"

"I have brought him back with me."

"With you?"

"With me: judge what company! During twelve hours side by side with the man I most despise and hate in the world,--I'd as soon travel with a serpent--any beast of antipathy!"

"And where is Polidori now?"

"In the house in the Allee des Veuves, under good and safe guard."

"Then he made no resistance to following you?"

"None. I offered him the choice between being apprehended at once by the French authorities, or being my prisoner in the Allee des Veuves,--he didn't hesitate for an instant."

"You are right; it is best to have him thus in our grasp. You are worth your weight in gold, my dear old Murphy. But tell me all about your journey; I am impatient to know how this shameless woman, and her equally shameless accomplice, were at last unmasked."

"Nothing could be more simple. I had only to follow the letter of your instructions in order to terrify and crush these wretches. Under these circumstances, monseigneur, you have served, as you always do, persons of worth, and punished the wicked, noble preserver that you are!"

"Sir Walter! Sir Walter! Do you recollect the flatteries of the Baron de Grauen?" said Rodolph, smiling.

"Well, then, monseigneur, I will begin,--or, perhaps, you would prefer first reading this letter of the Marquise d'Harville's, which will inform you on every point that occurred previous to my arrival, which so completely confounded Polidori."

"A letter! Pray let me have it immediately."

Murphy gave the letter of the marquise to Rodolph, adding:

"As we had agreed, instead of accompanying Madame d'Harville to her father's, I alighted at a small inn quite close to the chateau, where I was to wait until the marquise sent for me."

Rodolph read what follows with tender and impatient solicitude:

"MONSEIGNEUR:--After all I owe you already, I now owe to you my
father's life. I will allow facts to speak for themselves; they
will say better than I can what fresh accumulations of gratitude
to you I have added to those already amassed in my heart.
Understanding all the importance of the advice you sent to me by
Sir Walter Murphy, who overtook me on my way to Normandy a short
distance from Paris, I travelled as speedily as possible to the
Chateau des Aubiers. I know not why, but the countenances of the
persons who received me appeared to me sinister. I did not see
amongst them any one of the old servitors of our house; no one
knew me. I was obliged to tell them my name.

"I learned that for several days my father had been suffering
greatly, and that my stepmother had just brought a physician
from Paris. I had no doubt but this was Doctor Polidori.
Desirous of being immediately conducted to my father, I inquired
for an old _valet de chambre_ to whom he was much attached; he
had quitted the chateau some time previously. This I learned
from a house-steward who had shown me to my apartment, saying
that he would inform my stepmother of my arrival. Was it
illusion or suspicion? It seemed to me that my coming annoyed
the people at the chateau where all was gloomy and sinister. In
the bent of mind in which I was we seek to draw inferences from
the slightest circumstances. I remarked in every part traces of
disorder and neglect, as if it had been too much trouble to take
care of a house which was so soon to be abandoned. My
uneasiness--my anxiety increased at every moment.

"After having established my daughter and her governess in an
apartment, I was about to proceed to my father, when my
stepmother entered the apartment. In spite of her artfulness,
in spite of the control which she ordinarily exercised over
herself, she appeared alarmed at my sudden arrival. 'M.
d'Orbigny does not expect your visit, madame,' she said to me,
'and he is suffering so much that a surprise may be fatal. I
think it, therefore, best that he should not be told of your
arrival, for he would be unable to account for it, and--'

"I did not allow her to finish. 'A terrible event has occurred,
madame,' I said, 'M. d'Harville is dead, in consequence of a
fatal imprudence. After so deplorable a result, I could no
longer remain in Paris in my own house, and I have, therefore,
come to my father's, in order to pass the first days of my
mourning.'

"'A widow! Ah, that, indeed, is unexpected happiness!' exclaimed
my stepmother, in a rage. From what you know, monseigneur, of
the unhappy marriage which this woman had planned in order to
avenge herself on me, you will comprehend the brutality of her
remark.

"'It is because I fear you might be as unexpectedly happy as
myself, madame, that I came here,' was my (perhaps imprudent)
reply. 'I wish to see my father.'

"'That's impossible, at this moment!' she replied, turning very
pale; 'the sight of you would cause a dangerous degree of
excitement.'

"'If my father is so seriously ill,' I observed, 'why was I not
informed of it?'

"'Such was M. d'Orbigny's will,' replied my stepmother.

"'I do not believe you, madame! and I shall go and assure myself
of the truth,' I said, and turned towards the door of my
chamber.

"'I tell you again that the unexpected sight of you may have a
most prejudicial effect on your father!' she cried, coming
before me so as to hinder my further progress; 'I will not allow
you to go into his room, until I have informed him of your
arrival with all the care and precaution which his situation
requires.'

"I was in a cruel perplexity, monseigneur. A sudden surprise
might really be dangerous to my father, but this woman,--usually
so calm, so self-possessed--seemed to me so overcome by my
presence, I had so many reasons to doubt the sincerity of her
solicitude for the health of him whom she had married from
cupidity; and then, too, the presence of Doctor Polidori, the
murderer of my mother, caused me altogether such extreme alarm
that, believing my father's life menaced, I did not hesitate
between the hope of saving him and the fear of causing him
severe emotion. 'I will see my father, and that instantly!' I
said to my stepmother. And although she tried to retain me by
the arm, I went out of the room. Completely losing her presence
of mind, this woman tried a second time, and almost by force, to
prevent me from quitting the chamber. This incredible resistance
increased my alarm, I disengaged myself from her grasp, and,
knowing my father's apartment, I ran thither with all speed, and
entered the room.

"Oh, monseigneur, during my life I never can forget that scene,
and the picture presented to my eyes. My father, scarcely to be
recognised, pale and meagre, with suffering depicted in every
feature, his head reclining on a pillow, was lying extended on a
large armchair. At the corner of the fireplace, standing close
to him, was Doctor Polidori, just about to pour into a cup,
which a nurse presented to him, some drops of a liquor contained
in a small glass bottle which he held in his hand. His long red
beard gave even a more than usually sinister appearance to his
physiognomy. I entered so hastily that he gave a look of
surprise at my stepmother, who followed me with hasty steps; and
instead of handing to my father the draught he had prepared for
him, he suddenly placed the phial on the mantelpiece. Guided by
an instinct for which I am unable to account, my first movement
was to seize the phial. Remarking instantly the surprise and
alarm of my stepmother and Polidori, I congratulated myself on
my promptitude. My father, amazed, seemed irritated at the sight
of me. I expected this. Polidori darted at me a ferocious scowl,
and, in spite of the presence of my father and the nurse, I
feared the wretch, seeing his crime so nearly disclosed, would
have recourse to violence with me. I felt the necessity of
support at a moment so decisive; and ringing the bell, one of my
father's servants came in, whom I requested to tell my _valet de
chambre_ (who had already been informed) to go and seek some
things I had left at the little inn. Sir Walter Murphy was aware
that, in order not to arouse my stepmother's suspicions, in case
it should be necessary to give my orders in her presence, I
should employ this means of requesting him to come to me. Such
was the surprise of my father and stepmother, that the servant
quitted the room before they could utter a word. I felt my
courage then rise, for, in a few minutes, Sir Walter Murphy
would be at my side.

"'What does all this mean?' said my father to me, in a voice
feeble, but still angry and imperious. 'You here, Clemence
without my sending for you? Then, scarcely arrived, you seize
the phial containing the draught the doctor was about to give
me. Will you explain this madness?'

"'Leave the room,' said my stepmother to the nurse. The woman
obeyed. 'Compose yourself, my dear!' said my stepmother,
addressing my father; 'you know how injurious the slightest
emotion is to you. Since your daughter will come here in spite
of you, and her presence is so disagreeable to you, give me your
arm. I will lead you into the small salon, and then our good
doctor will make Madame d'Harville comprehend how imprudent her
conduct has been, to say the least of it.' And she gave her
accomplice a meaning look. I at once saw through my stepmother's
design. She was desirous of leading my father away, and leaving
me alone with Polidori, who, in this extreme case, no doubt,
would have used force to obtain from me the phial which might
supply so evident a proof of his criminal designs.

"'You are right,' said my father to my stepmother. 'Since I am
thus pursued, even in my private apartments, without respect for
my wishes, I will leave the place free to intruders.' And rising
with difficulty, he took the arm that was offered to him by my
stepmother, and went towards the salon.

"At this moment Polidori advanced towards me; but I went close
up to my father and said to him, 'I will explain to you why I
have arrived so suddenly, and what may appear strange in my
conduct. I became yesterday a widow; and it was yesterday,
father, that I learned your life was threatened.' He was walking
very much bent, but at these words he stopped, threw himself
erect, and looking at me with intense surprise, said:

"'You are a widow? My life is threatened? What does all this
mean?'

"'And who dares threaten the life of M. d'Orbigny, madame?'
asked my stepmother, most audaciously.

"'Yes, who threatens it?' added Polidori.

"'You, sir!--you, madame!' I replied.

"'What horror!' exclaimed my stepmother, advancing a step
towards me.

"'What I assert I will prove, madame!' I replied.

"'Such an accusation is most frightful!' cried my father.

"'I will leave the house this very moment, since I am exposed to
such shameful calumnies,' said Doctor Polidori, with the
apparent indignation of a man whose honour has been outraged.
Beginning to feel the danger of his position, no doubt, he was
desirous of effecting his escape. At the moment when he was
trying to open the door, it opened, and he found himself face to
face with Sir Walter Murphy."

Rodolph ceased reading, held out his hand to the squire, and said:

"Well done, my good old friend; your presence must have crushed the scoundrel!"

"That's precisely the word, monseigneur. He turned livid, receded a couple of paces, looking at me aghast; he seemed thunderstruck. To find me at the further extremity of Normandy, in such a moment, he must have thought he had a terrible dream. But go on, monseigneur; you will see that this infernal Comtesse d'Orbigny had her share of the overwhelming shame, thanks to what you told me as to her visit to the charlatan Bradamanti--Polidori--in the house in the Rue du Temple; for, after all, it was you who acted in this, I assure you, and you came in most happily and opportunely to the rescue on this occasion."

Rodolph smiled, and continued reading Madame d'Harville's letter:

"At the sight of Sir Walter Murphy, Polidori was panic-struck;
my stepmother went on from one surprise to another; my father,
agitated at this scene, weakened by his malady, was compelled to
sit down in an armchair. Sir Walter double-locked the door by
which he had entered; and placing himself before that which led
to the next apartment, that Doctor Polidori might not escape, he
said to my poor father, with a tone of the utmost respect, 'A
thousand pardons, Monsieur le Comte, for the liberty I take, but
an imperious necessity, dictated by your interest alone (and
which you will speedily recognise), compels me to act thus. My
name is Sir Walter Murphy, as this wretch can testify, who at
the sight of me trembles in every limb. I am the private adviser
of his royal highness Monseigneur the Grand Duke Regnant of
Gerolstein.'

"'Quite true!' stammered forth Doctor Polidori, overcome with
fright. 'But then, sir, what have you come here for? What seek
you?'

"'Sir Walter Murphy,' I observed, addressing my father, 'is here
with me to unmask the wretches whose victim you have so nearly
been.' Then handing the phial to Sir Walter, I added, 'I was
suddenly tempted to seize on this phial at the moment when
Doctor Polidori was about to pour some drops of the liquor it
contains into a draught he was about to offer to my father.'

"'A practitioner in the neighbouring village shall analyse
before you the contents of this bottle, which I will deposit in
your hands, M. le Comte; and if it is proved to contain a slow
and sure poison,' said Sir Walter Murphy to my father, 'you
cannot have any further doubt as to the dangers you have run,
and which the tender care of your daughter will most happily
have averted.'

"My poor father looked by turns at his wife, Doctor Polidori,
and Sir Walter, with an air of doubt and anxiety; his features
betrayed indescribable anguish. No doubt but he resisted with
all his might increasing and terrible suspicions, fearing to be
obliged to confess the infamy of my stepmother. At length,
concealing his head in his hands, he exclaimed, 'Oh, this is,
indeed, horrible!--impossible! Am I in a dream?'

"'No, it is no dream!' cried my stepmother, audaciously;
'nothing can be more real than this atrocious calumny, concerted
beforehand to destroy an unhappy woman, whose only crime is that
of consecrating her whole existence to you. Come, come, my dear,
do not remain a moment longer here!' she continued, addressing
my father; 'I do not suppose that your daughter will have the
insolence to retain you here against your will.'

"'Yes, yes, let me go!' said my father, highly excited; 'all
this is not true--cannot be true! I will not hear any more, my
brain cannot endure it. Fearful misgivings would arise in my
mind, which would embitter the few days I have still to live,
and nothing could console me for so horrible a discovery.'

"My father seemed to suffer so much, to be so despairing that,
at all hazards, I resolved on putting an end to this scene,
which was so acutely trying for him. Sir Walter guessed my
desire, but desirous of full and entire justice, he replied to
my father, 'But a few words more, M. le Comte. You will, no
doubt, suffer chagrin of a most painful kind, when you detect in
the woman's conduct, whom you believe attached to you by
gratitude, a system of most atrocious ingratitude,--in herself a
hypocritical monster. But you will find your consolation in the
affections of your daughter, who has never failed you.'

"'This passes all bounds!' cried my stepmother, with rage. 'And
by what right, sir, and on what proofs, dare you to base such
infamous calumnies? You say the phial contains poison? I deny
it, and will deny it until you prove the contrary. And even
supposing Doctor Polidori has by mistake confounded one medicine
with another, is that a reason why you should dare to accuse me
of having sought--desired to be his accomplice? Oh, no, no! I
cannot go on! An idea so horrible is already a crime! Once
again, sir, I defy you to say upon what proofs you and madame
here dare rely to support this shameful calumny!' said my
stepmother, with incredible audacity.

"'Yes, on what proofs?' exclaimed my poor father; 'the torture I
undergo must have an end.'

"'I am not here, sir, without proofs, M. le Comte,' replied Sir
Walter; 'and these proofs, the answer of this wretch shall
supply to you instantly.' Then Sir Walter spoke in German to
Doctor Polidori, who seemed to have suddenly assumed a little
assurance, but lost it as soon."

"What did you say to him?" inquired Rodolph of the squire, pausing from his perusal of the letter.

"A few significant words, monseigneur, something like this: 'You have escaped by flight from the sentence passed upon you by law and justice in the Grand Duchy; you live in the Rue du Temple, under the false name of Bradamanti; we know the infamous calling you pursue there. You poisoned the count's first wife. Three days since Madame d'Orbigny went to find you, in order to bring you here to poison her husband. His royal highness is in Paris, and has proofs of all I now aver. If you confess the truth in order to confound this wretched woman, you may hope, not for pardon, but for an amelioration of the punishment you deserve. You will accompany me to Paris, where I will deposit you in a safe place, until his royal highness decides on what shall be done with you. If not, one of two things: either his royal highness will demand and obtain your delivery up to him, or this very moment I will send for the nearest magistrate, this phial containing the poison shall be handed to him, you will be apprehended on the spot, and a search be made instantly at your domicile in the Rue du Temple; you know how utterly that must compromise you, and then the justice of the French courts will take its course. Choose therefore.' These disclosures, accusations, and threats, which he knew to be so well founded, succeeding each other thus rapidly, overwhelmed the scoundrel, who did not dream of my being so thoroughly informed. In the hope of diminishing his expected punishment, he did not hesitate to sacrifice his accomplice, and replied to me, 'Interrogate me, and I will disclose the whole truth as regards this woman.'"

"Capital! Excellent! my dear Murphy. I expected no less of you."

"During my conversation with Polidori, the features of Madame d'Harville's stepmother became greatly agitated. Although she did not understand German, she saw, by the increasing dejection of her accomplice, by his deprecating attitude, that I controlled him. In a state of fearful anxiety, she endeavoured to catch Polidori's glance, in order to inspire him with courage, or implore his discretion, but he carefully avoided looking towards her."

"And the count?"

"His agitation was inexpressible! With his clenched hands he grasped convulsively the arms of his chair, the perspiration stood on his brow, and he scarcely breathed, whilst his burning and fixed eyes never quitted mine; his agony was equal to his wife's. The remainder of Madame d'Harville's letter will tell you the conclusion of this painful scene, monseigneur."

Rodolph continued the perusal of Madame d'Harville's letter:

"After a conversation in German, which lasted for some minutes,
between Sir Walter Murphy and Polidori, Sir Walter said to the
latter, 'Now reply. Was it not madame,' and he looked towards my
stepmother, 'who, during the illness of the count's first wife,
introduced you to him as a physician?'

"'Yes, it was!' replied Polidori.

"'In order that you might serve the horrid projects of madame,
were you not criminal enough to render mortal, by your deadly
prescriptions, the malady of the Countess d'Orbigny, which was
but slight in the first instance?'

"'Yes!' replied Polidori. My father heaved a painful sigh,
raised both his hands to heaven, and let them fall perfectly
overcome.

"'Lies and infamies!' cried my stepmother; 'it is all false,--a
plot got up to destroy me!'

"'Silence, madame!' said Sir Walter Murphy, in an authoritative
voice. Then continuing to address Polidori, 'Is it true that
three days since madame was at your residence in the Rue du
Temple, No. 17, where you lived under the assumed name of
Bradamanti?'

"'That is true.'

"'Did not madame propose to you to come here to assassinate the
Comte d'Orbigny, as you had assassinated his wife?'

"'Alas! I cannot deny it!' said Polidori.

"At this overwhelming revelation my father rose up, then,
extending his arms to me, he exclaimed, in a broken voice, 'In
the name of your unfortunate mother, pardon, pardon! I made her
suffer much, but I swear to you I was a stranger to the crime
which led her to the tomb!' and before I could prevent it, my
father fell at my knees. When Sir Walter and I raised him he had
fainted. I rang for the servants. Sir Walter took Polidori by
the arm and led him out of the room with him, saying to my
stepmother, 'Believe me, madame, it is best for you to leave
this house within an hour, otherwise I will deliver you up to
justice.' The wretched woman left the room in a state of rage
and affright, which you will easily conceive. When my father
recovered his senses, all that had occurred seemed to him a
horrid dream. I was under the sad necessity of imparting to him
my first suspicions as to my mother's premature death,
suspicions which your knowledge of Doctor Polidori's earlier
crimes had converted into certainty. I also told him how my
stepmother had persecuted me to the time of my marriage, and
what had been her object in making me marry M. d'Harville. In
proportion as my father had shown himself weak with respect to
this woman, so was he now pitiless towards her. He was desirous
of handing Madame d'Orbigny over to the tribunals. I represented
to him the horrible scandal of such a process, the publicity of
which must be so distressing to him; and I induced him to allow
her as much as was requisite for her to live upon. I had
considerable difficulty in persuading my father to these terms,
and he then wished me to dismiss her. This task was so painful
that I requested Sir Walter to perform it for me, which he did."

"I consented with pleasure," interrupted Murphy.

"And what said this woman?"

"Madame d'Harville kindly solicited a pension of a hundred louis for this woman: this appeared to me not only kindness, but weakness; it was bad enough to allow her to escape from justice; and the count agreeing with me, it was arranged that we should give her in all twenty-five louis to maintain her until she should find some occupation. 'And to what occupation can I, the Countess d'Orbigny, turn?' she asked me, insolently. '_Ma foi!_ that is your affair,--you may do as a nurse or housekeeper; but take my advice and seek some humbler, more obscure occupation, for if you have the daring to mention your name--a name which you owe to a crime--people will be astonished to see the Countess d'Orbigny reduced to such a condition; they will then begin to make inquiries, and you may judge what will be the result, if you are so indiscreet as to say one word of the past. Hide yourself, therefore, at a distance,--try and become forgotten; become Madame Pierre or Madame Jacques, and repent if you can.' 'And do you suppose, sir,' she said, having, no doubt, resolved on a piece of stage effect, 'do you suppose that I shall not sue for the advantage which my marriage settlement awards me?' 'Why, madame, nothing can be more just; it will be dishonourable of M. d'Orbigny not to execute his promises, and forget all you have done--and particularly all you wished to do towards him. Go to law--go to law! Try for justice, and, no doubt, it will right you with your husband.' A quarter of an hour after our conversation the wretch of a woman was on the road to the neighbouring town."

"You are right, it is painful to leave such an abandoned creature unpunished, but a law proceeding is impossible."

"I easily persuaded my father to leave Aubiers the same day,"

resumed Rodolph, continuing the perusal of Madame d'Harville's letter,

"as too many painful feelings were excited by his being where he
was. His weak health will be benefited by a few days' change of
air and scene, as the doctor saw, whom Polidori had succeeded,
and for whom I sent from the neighbouring town. My father wished
him to analyse the contents of the phial, without giving him any
information as to what had passed. The doctor informed us that
he must do this at home, and that in two hours we should know
the result of his scrutiny; which was that several doses of this
liquor, composed with devilish skill, would, within a certain
time, cause death, without leaving any traces beyond those of an
ordinary malady, which he mentioned. In a few hours,
monseigneur, I go with my father and daughter to Fontainebleau,
where we shall remain for some time; then my father wishes to
return to Paris, but not to my house, for I could not reside
there after the late appalling event. As I mentioned in the
beginning of my letter, monseigneur, facts prove all I shall owe
to your inexhaustible care and solicitude. Forewarned by you,
aided by your advice, strong in the assistance of your excellent
and high-couraged Sir Walter, I have been enabled to snatch my
father from certain death, and am again assured of his love.
Adieu, monseigneur, it is impossible for me to say more; my
heart is too full, and I explain but faintly all I feel."

"D'ORBIGNY D'HARVILLE."

"I open my letter to repair something I had, I regret to say,
forgotten. According to your noble suggestion, I went to the
prison of St. Lazare, to visit the poor women prisoners, and I
found there an unhappy girl in whom you are interested. Her
angelic mildness, her pious resignation, were the admiration of
the respectable women who superintend the prisoners. To say that
she is called La Goualeuse is to urge you to obtain her liberty
instantly. The poor girl will tell you under what circumstances
she was carried off from the asylum in which you had placed her,
and was put in prison, where, at least, the candour and
sweetness of her disposition have been appreciated. Permit me,
also, to recall to you my two future protegees, the unhappy
mother and daughter despoiled by the notary Ferrand,--where are
they? I pray of you to try and discover them, so that, on my
return to Paris, I may pay the debt I have contracted towards
all unfortunate beings."

"What! Has La Goualeuse, then, left the Bouqueval farm?" inquired Murphy, as much astonished as Rodolph at this fresh discovery.

"Just now I was informed that she had been seen quitting St. Lazare," replied Rodolph. "I am quite bewildered on the subject; Madame Georges's silence surprises and disturbs me. Poor little Fleur-de-Marie, what fresh disasters can have befallen her? Send a man on horseback directly to the farm, and write to Madame Georges that I beg of her to come to Paris instantly. Request M. de Grauen to procure for me a permission to visit St. Lazare. By what Madame d'Harville says to me, Fleur-de-Marie must be confined there. Yet, no," he added, "she cannot be there, for Rigolette saw her leave the prison with an aged woman. Could it be Madame Georges? If not, who could be the woman that accompanied La Goualeuse?"

"Patience, monseigneur; before the evening you will know all about it. Then to-morrow you can interrogate that vagabond Polidori, who has, he assures me, important disclosures to make,--but to you alone."

"This interview will be most odious to me!" said Rodolph, sorrowfully; "for I have never seen this man since the fatal day when I--"

Rodolph, unable to finish, hid his face in his hands.

"But, monseigneur, why accede to Polidori's request? Threaten him with the justice of the French law, or immediate surrender to your authority, and then he will reveal to me what he now declares he will only reveal to you."

"You are right, my worthy friend; for the presence of this wretch would make my terrible recollections even still more distressing, connected as they are with incurable griefs,--from my father's death to that of my daughter. I know not how it is, but as I advance in life the more I seem to miss that dear child. How I should have adored her! How very dear and precious to me she would have been, this offspring of my first love, of my earliest and purest beliefs--or, rather, my young illusions! I should have poured out on this innocent creature those treasures of affection of which her hateful mother is so unworthy; and it seems to me that, as I have dreamt, this child, by the beauty of her mind, the charm of her qualities, would have soothed and softened all my griefs, all these pangs of remorse, which are, alas, attached to her fatal birth."

"Monseigneur, I see with grief the increasing empire which these regrets, as vain as they are bitter, assume over your mind."

After some moments' silence, Rodolph said to Murphy:

"I will now make a confession to you, my old friend. I love--yes, I passionately love--a woman worthy of the noblest, the most devoted affection. Since my heart has again expanded to all the sweetness of love, since I am thus again affected by tender emotions, I feel more deeply than ever the loss of my daughter. I might have feared that an attachment of the heart would weaken the bitterness of my regrets. It is not so; all my loving qualities--my affections--are but the keener. I feel myself better, more charitable; and more than ever is it afflicting to me not to have my daughter to adore."

"Nothing more easily explained, monseigneur,--forgive me the comparison,--but, as certain men have a joyous and benevolent intoxication, so you have good and generous love."

"Still, my hatred of the wicked has become more intense; my aversion for Sarah increases, in proportion, no doubt, to the grief I experience at my daughter's death. I imagine to myself that that wretched mother must have neglected her, and that, when once her ambitious hopes were ruined by my marriage, the countess, in her pitiless selfishness, abandoned our daughter to mercenary hands, and, perhaps, my child died from actual neglect. It is my fault, also. I did not then think of the sacred duties which paternity imposes. When Sarah's real character was suddenly revealed to me, I ought instantly to have taken my daughter from her, and watched over her with love and anxiety. I ought to have foreseen that the countess would make but a very unnatural mother. It is my fault,--yes, indeed, my fault."

"Monseigneur, grief distracts you! Could you, after the sad event you know of, delay for a day the long journey imposed on you, as--"

"As an expiator! You are right, my friend," said Rodolph, greatly agitated.

"You have not heard anything of the Countess Sarah since my departure, monseigneur?"

"No; since those infamous plots which twice nearly destroyed Madame d'Harville, I have heard nothing of her. Her presence here is hateful to me,--oppresses me; it seems as though my evil demon was near me, and some new misfortune threatens me."

"Patience, patience, monseigneur! Fortunately Germany is forbidden ground to her, and Germany awaits us."

"Yes, we shall go very soon. At least, during my short residence in Paris, I shall have accomplished a sacred vow, and have made some steps in the meritorious path which an august and merciful will has traced for my redemption. As soon as Madame Georges's son is restored to her tender arms, free and innocent; as soon as Jacques Ferrand shall be convicted and punished for his crimes; as soon as I am assured of the good prosperity of all the honest and hard-working creatures who, by their resignation, courage, and probity, have deserved my interest, we will return to Germany, and then my journey will not have been wholly unfruitful."

"Particularly if you achieve the exposure of that abominable wretch, Jacques Ferrand, monseigneur,--the angular stone, the pivot on which turn so many crimes."

"Although the end justifies the means, and scruples with such a scoundrel are absurd, yet I sometimes regret that I have allowed Cecily to become an instrument in working out this just and avenging reparation."

"She ought to be here very shortly."

"She has arrived."

"Cecily?"

"Yes; I refused to see her. De Grauen has given her ample instructions, and she has promised to comply with them."

"Will she keep that promise?"

"Why, everything conspires to make me think so. There is the hope of ameliorating her future condition, and the fear of being instantly sent back to Germany to prison; for De Grauen will not lose sight of her, and the least defection on her part will cause her being handed over to justice."

"True, she comes here as an escaped criminal, and when we know the crimes that have led to her perpetual imprisonment, she would be at once surrendered to our demand."

"And then, even if it were not her interest to aid our schemes, the task which is assigned to her being one which can only be effected by stratagem, perfidy, and the most devilish seduction, Cecily must be (and the baron assures me she really is) overjoyed at such an opportunity for playing off those infernal advantages with which she is so liberally endowed."

"Is she as handsome as she was, monseigneur?"

"De Grauen declares that she is more attractive than ever; he told me that he was really quite dazzled at her beauty, to which the Alsatian costume she had chosen gave even more piquancy. The glance of this devil in petticoats, he says, has still the same really magic expression."

"Why, monseigneur, I have never been what is called a dissipated fellow, a man without heart or conduct, but if at twenty years of age I had met with Cecily, even knowing her then to be as dangerous, as wicked as I do now, I assure you I would not have answered for myself, if I had been for any time exposed to the fire of her large, black, and brilliant eyes, sparkling in the centre of her pale and ardent countenance. Yes, by heaven! I dare not think of the extremities into which so fatal an amour might have urged me."

"I am not astonished, my dear Murphy, for I know this woman. Moreover, the baron was really frightened at the quickness with which Cecily understood--or, rather guessed--the part, at once inciting and platonic, which she was to play with the notary."

"But will she, think you, be introduced as easily as you wish, monseigneur, by the intervention of Madame Pipelet? Individuals like Jacques Ferrand are so suspicious."

"I had relied, with reason, on the sight of Cecily to overcome and dissipate the notary's distrust."

"What! Has he already seen her?"

"Yesterday. And from what Madame Pipelet told me, I have no doubt but he was fascinated by the creole, for he instantly took her into service."

"Then, monseigneur, the game is won, and ours."

"I hope so. A ferocious cupidity, a brutal passion, have impelled the injurer of Louise Morel to the most odious crimes. It is in his passion and his cupidity that he shall find the terrible punishment of his crimes,--a punishment which, moreover, shall not be without fruit for his victims, for you know the aim of all the Creole's wiles."

"Cecily! Cecily! Never did greater wickedness, never more dangerous corruption, never blacker soul have served for the accomplishment of a more strict morality, a more just result! And David, monseigneur, what does he say to this arrangement?"

"Approves of everything. At the pitch of contempt and horror which he has reached for this creature, he sees in her only the instrument of a just vengeance. 'If this accursed woman ever could deserve any commiseration after all the ill she has done me,' he said to me, 'it would be by devoting herself to the remorseless punishment of this scoundrel, whose exterminating demon she may become.'"

A servant having knocked at the door, Murphy went out, but soon returned with two letters, only one of which was for Rodolph.

"A line from Madame Georges," he said, as he hastily perused it.

"Well, monseigneur, and La Goualeuse?"

"There can be no further doubt," exclaimed Rodolph, after having read, "there is some dark plot afoot. On the evening of the day when the poor girl disappeared from the farm, and at the instant when Madame Georges was about to inform me of this event, a man unknown to her, sent express and on horseback, came as from me to tell her that I was aware of the sudden disappearance of Fleur-de-Marie, and that in a few days I should take her back to the farm. In spite of this, Madame Georges, uneasy at my silence with respect to her protegee, cannot, as she says, resist the desire to hear how her dear daughter is, for so she calls her."

"It is very strange, monseigneur."

"What could be the motive for carrying off Fleur-de-Marie?"

"Monseigneur!" said Murphy, suddenly, "the Countess Sarah is no stranger to this carrying off."

"Sarah! And what makes you think so?"

"Compare this event with her denunciations against Madame d'Harville."

"You are right!" cried Rodolph, struck with a sudden light, "it is evident--now I understand. Yes, constantly the one calculation. The countess persists in thinking that by breaking down all the affections which she supposes me to form, she will make me feel the necessity of attaching myself to her. This is as odious as it is absurd. Still, such unworthy persecution must be put a stop to. It is not only myself, but all that deserve respect, interest, and pity, that this woman assails. Send M. de Grauen instantly and officially to the countess and let him say that I have the certain assurance that she has been instrumental in carrying off Fleur-de-Marie, and if she does not give me at once such information as is necessary for me to find the poor girl, I will show no mercy; and then M. de Grauen will go to the law officers of the crown."

"According to Madame d'Harville's letter, La Goualeuse must be in St. Lazare."

"Yes, but Rigolette declares that she saw her free, and quit the prison. There is some mystery which I must clear up."

"I will instantly go and give the Baron de Grauen your orders, monseigneur. But allow me to open this letter, which comes from my correspondent at Marseilles, to whom I had recommended the Chourineur, as he was to facilitate the passage of the poor devil to Algeria."

"Well, has he set sail?"

"Monseigneur, it is really singular!"

"What is it?"

"After having waited for a long time at Marseilles for a ship to convey him to Algeria, the Chourineur, who seemed every day more sad and serious, suddenly protested, on the very day fixed for his embarkation, that he should prefer returning to Paris."

"What a whim!"

"Although my correspondent had, as agreed, placed a considerable sum at the disposal of the Chourineur, he had only taken sufficient for his return to Paris, where he must shortly arrive."

"Then he will explain to us his change of resolution. But despatch De Grauen immediately to the Countess Macgregor, and go yourself to St. Lazare, and inquire about Fleur-de-Marie."

* * * * *

After the lapse of an hour, the Baron de Grauen returned from the Countess Sarah Macgregor's. In spite of his habitual and official _sang-froid_, the diplomatist seemed overwhelmed; the groom of the chambers had scarcely admitted him before Rodolph observed his paleness.

"Well, De Grauen, what ails you? Have you seen the countess?"

"Your royal highness must prepare for very painful intelligence--so unexpected--the Countess Macgregor--"

"The countess, then, is dead?"

"No, but her life is despaired of; she has been stabbed with a stiletto."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Rodolph. "Who committed the crime?"

"That is not ascertained; the murder was accompanied with robbery; a large quantity of jewels have been stolen."

"And how is she now?"

"She has not recovered her senses yet; her brother is in despair."

"Send some one daily to make inquiries, my dear De Grauen."

At this moment Murphy entered, having returned from St. Lazare.

"Sad news!" said Rodolph to him; "Sarah has been stabbed."

"Ah, monseigneur, though very guilty, one must still pity her."

"Yes, such a fearful end! And La Goualeuse?"

"Set at liberty by the intercession of Madame d'Harville."

"That is impossible! for Madame d'Harville entreats me to take the necessary steps for getting the poor, unhappy girl out of prison."

"Yet an elderly woman came to St. Lazare, bringing an order to set Fleur-de-Marie at liberty, and they both quitted the prison together."

"As Rigolette said. But this elderly woman, who can she be? The Countess Sarah alone can clear this up, and she is in no state to afford us particulars."

"But her brother, Tom Seyton, may throw some light on it, he has always been in his sister's confidence."

"His sister is dying, and if there is any fresh plot, he will not say a word. But," added Rodolph, "we must learn the name of the person who liberated Fleur-de-Marie, and then we shall arrive at something."

"True, monseigneur."

"Try, then, and find out this person, my dear De Grauen; and if you do not succeed, put your M. Badinot on the scent."

"Your royal highness may rely on my zeal."

"Upon my word, monseigneur," said Murphy, "it is, perhaps, fortunate that the Chourineur returns to us, his services may be useful."

"You are right; and now I am impatient to see my brave preserver arrive in Paris, for I never can forget that I owe my life to him."