on, in thy name and mine, a royal gift--a gift, that will bring joy
and peace to the heart of many an unfortunate creature. Then what have
we to regret, my beloved? Our immortal souls will pass away in a kiss,
and ascend, full of love, to that God who is all love!"

"Adrienne!"

"Djalma!"

The light, transparent curtains fell like a cloud over that nuptial and
funereal couch. Yes, funereal; for, two hours after, Adrienne and Djalma
breathed their last sigh in a voluptuous agony.

CHAPTER LXVI. A DUEL TO THE DEATH.

Adrienne and Djalma died on the 30th of May. The following scene took
place on the 31st, the eve of the day appointed for the last convocation
of the heirs of Marius de Rennepont. The reader will no doubt remember
the room occupied by M. Hardy, in the "house of retreat," in the Rue de
Vaugirard--a gloomy and retired apartment, opening on a dreary little
garden, planted with yew-trees, and surrounded by high walls. To reach
this chamber, it was necessary to cross two vast rooms, the doors of
which, once shut, intercepted all noise and communication from without.
Bearing this in mind, we may go on with our narrative. For the last
three or four days, Father d'Aigrigny occupied this apartment. He had
not chosen it, but had been induced to accept it, under most plausible
pretexts, given him at the instigation of Rodin. It was about noon.
Seated in an arm-chair, by the window opening on the little garden,
Father d'Aigrigny held in his hand a newspaper, in which he read as
follows, under the head of "Paris:"

"Eleven p.m.--A most horrible and tragical event has just excited the
greatest consternation in the quarter of the Rue de Richelieu. A double
murder has been committed, on the person of a young man and woman.
The girl was killed on the spot, by the stroke of a dagger; hopes are
entertained of saving the life of the young man. The crime is attributed
to jealousy. The officers of justice are investigating the matter. We
shall give full particulars tomorrow."

When he had read these lines, Father d'Aigrigny threw down the paper and
remained in deep thought.

"It is incredible," said he, with bitter envy, in allusion to Rodin. "He
has attained his end. Hardly one of his anticipations has been defeated.
This family is annihilated, by the mere play of the passions, good and
evil that he has known how to set in motion. He said it would be so.
Oh! I must confess," added Father d'Aigrigny, with a jealous