al kind-heartedness, an old 'sous-officier', named Mesnil,
who had served under him in the artillery. This Mesnil enjoyed his
master's confidence. He was a kind of forester on the property; he lived
in Paris in the winter, but occasionally passed two or three days in
the country whenever the General wished to obtain information about the
crops. Madame de Campvallon and M. de Camors chose the time of these
absences for their dangerous interviews at night. Camors, apprised from
within by some understood signal, entered the enclosure surrounding the
cottage of Mesnil, and thence proceeded to the garden belonging to the
house. Madame de Campvallon always charged herself with the peril that
charmed her--with keeping open one of the windows on the ground floor.
The Parisian custom of lodging the domestics in the attics gave to
this hardihood a sort of security, notwithstanding its being always
hazardous. Near the end of May, one of these occasions, always
impatiently awaited on both sides, presented itself, and M. de Camors at
midnight penetrated into the little garden of the old 'sous-officier'.
At the moment when he turned the key in the gate of the enclosure, he
thought he heard a slight sound behind him. He turned, cast a rapid
glance over the dark space that surrounded him, and thinking himself
mistaken, entered. An instant after, the shadow of a man appeared at
the angle of a pile of lumber, which was scattered over the carpenter's
yard. This shadow remained for some time immovable in front of the
windows of the hotel and then plunged again into the darkness.

The following week M. de Camors was at the club one evening, playing
whist with the General. He remarked that the General was not playing
his usual game, and saw also imprinted on his features a painful
preoccupation.

"Are you in pain, General?" said he, after they had finished their game.

"No, no!" said the General; "I am only annoyed--a tiresome affair
between two of my people in the country. I sent Mesnil away this morning
to examine into it."

The General took a few steps, then returned to Camors and took him
aside: "My friend," he said, "I deceived you, just now; I have something
on my mind--something very serious. I am even very unhappy!"

"What is the matter?" said Camors, whose heart sank.

"I shall tell you that probably to-morrow. Come, in any case, to see me
to-morrow morning. Won't you?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Thanks! Now I shall go--for I am