o
torches left in the chapel.

And now, if our readers ask why there was this difference between the
treatment received by Roland and that administered to Sir John, why
this mansuetude toward one and this rigor toward the other, we reply:
Remember that Morgan enjoined on his brethren the safety of Amelie's
brother, and thus safeguarded, under no circumstances could Roland die
by the hand of a Companion of Jehu.

CHAPTER XIX. THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE RUE DE LA VICTOIRE

While they are bearing Sir John Tanlay's body to the Chateau des
Noires-Fontaines; while Roland is hurrying in the same direction; while
the peasant, despatched by him, is hastening to Bourg to notify Dr.
Milliet of the catastrophe which necessitated his immediate presence
at Madame de Montrevel's home, let us jump over the distance which
separates Bourg from Paris, and the time which elapsed between the 16th
of October and the 7th of November; that is to say, between the 24th of
Vendemiaire and the 16th Brumaire, and repair to that little house in
the Rue de la Victoire rendered historically famous by the conspiracy of
the 18th Brumaire, which issued from it fully armed.

It is the same house which stands there to-day on the right of the
street at No. 60, apparently astonished to present to the eye, after
so many successive changes of government, the consular fasces which may
still be seen on the panels of its double oaken doors.

Let us follow the long, narrow alley of lindens that leads from the gate
on the street to the door of the house; let us enter the antechamber,
take the hall to the right, ascend the twenty steps that lead to a study
hung with green paper, and furnished with curtains, easy chairs and
couches of the same color. The walls are covered with geographical
charts and plans of cities. Bookcases of maple are ranged on either
side of the fireplace, which they inclose. The chairs, sofas, tables and
desks are piled with books; there is scarcely any room on the chairs to
sit down, or on the desks and tables to write.

In the midst of this encumbering mass of reports, letters, pamphlets and
books, a man had cleared a space for himself where he was now seated,
clutching his hair impatiently from time to time, as he endeavored to
decipher a page of notes, compared to which the hieroglyphics on the
obelisk of Luxor, would have been transparently intelligible. Just as
the secretary's impatience was approaching desperation, the door ope