hy to embrace them,
unworthy of the dust.--"

The old man raised, pressed him to his heart and said: "Not so,
my son, we are not to criticise and blame the ways of destiny in so
short-sighted a manner. It was you, as I well know, who delivered me
from the hands of the incendiaries. Your heart has remained to me;
those walls, this inanimate possession belonged not to my happiness and
existence, you are nearer to me, you are, God be praised! not lost to
me. Let me enjoy the satisfaction of having found you again among the
ruins, and I will thank Heaven with heartfelt tears for my calamity.
Follow me now and abandon your unfortunate covenant. The time and
favourable moment will be found, when we may fly over the frontiers of
our native land, and under another sky be permitted to rear the
blessing of our love again."

"Only require not this of me, generous man," cried Edmond, as if in
unconscious anger: "at least I must punish, avenge, retaliate, in some
degree on our and God's foes. Oh Catinat! how unjust I have been in
censuring thee. No, I will not degrade mercy so far by wasting it on
these wretches, who might take the tiger in apprenticeship in order to
augment his malice and cruelty."

Vila came up with the lantern and turned the light upon the youth's
pale, agitated countenance, saying with the greatest good nature: "ah!
Ned! my boy! be advised: now for once only follow your aged parent
there, who has ever merely required from you what is quite reasonable."

"Leave vengeance to Him," said the father in a powerful voice, "to Him,
who rules, permits and superintends all, and in whose almighty arm our
wrath and weakness, are no longer vengeance! I do not understand the
word. Our hearts were not created for this feeling."

"Still and ever the same folly!" cried a deep voice from behind and the
gaunt figure of the grey-headed Lacoste was groping his way towards
them in the dark, over heaps of rubbish. "Vengeance! hatred!" exclaimed
he; "who knows not those sentiments, knows love but in part. Knowest
thou me still, thy rival, the Lacoste, whom thou renderedst many years
ago so unhappy? Who meant thee evil were it not for thy gallant
Edmond."

"How comest thou here?" cried the father astounded. "What art thou
doing here?"

"I am become thy son's dog," replied the former, "I do him what service
I can, at least I run after him, out of gratitude, because he has saved
my life."

"I have scarcely time and feeling," sa