feet. "My hospitality has cost me dear," he
cried. "Before you came you had taken an old man's life; now your are
dealing a deadly blow at a whole family. Whatever happens, there must be
unhappiness in this house."

"And if your daughter is happy?" asked the other, gazing steadily at the
General.

The father made a superhuman effort for self-control. "If she is happy
with you," he said, "she is not worth regretting."

Helene knelt timidly before her father.

"Father, I love and revere you," she said, "whether you lavish all the
treasures of your kindness upon me, or make me feel to the full the
rigor of disgrace.... But I entreat that your last words of farewell
shall not be words of anger."

The General could not trust himself to look at her. The stranger came
nearer; there was something half-diabolical, half-divine in the smile
that he gave Helene.

"Angel of pity, you that do not shrink in horror from a murderer, come,
since you persist in your resolution of intrusting your life to me."

"Inconceivable!" cried her father.

The Marquise then looked strangely at her daughter, opened her arms, and
Helene fled to her in tears.

"Farewell," she said, "farewell, mother!" The stranger trembled as
Helene, undaunted, made sign to him that she was ready. She kissed her
father's hand; and, as if performing a duty, gave a hasty kiss to Moina
and little Abel, then she vanished with the murderer.

"Which way are they going?" exclaimed the General, listening to the
footsteps of the two fugitives.--"Madame," he turned to his wife, "I
think I must be dreaming; there is some mystery behind all this, I do
not understand it; you must know what it means."

The Marquise shivered.

"For some time past your daughter has grown extraordinarily romantic and
strangely high-flown in her ideas. In spite of the pains I have taken to
combat these tendencies in her character--"

"This will not do----" began the General, but fancying that he heard
footsteps in the garden, he broke off to fling open the window.

"Helene!" he shouted.

His voice was lost in the darkness like a vain prophecy. The utterance
of that name, to which there should never be answer any more, acted
like a counterspell; it broke the charm and set him free from the evil
enchantment which lay upon him. It was as if some spirit passed over
his face. He now saw clearly what had taken place, and cursed his
incomprehensible weakness. A shiver of heat rushed from his