rrible enemies opened a breach
in his life, and prepared the horrible catastrophe that ended it."

"Is that an encouragement to enter this shady path, where, you say, he
might have asked me to follow him?"

"But if I myself," said du Portail, "should offer to guide you in it,
what then?"

"You, monsieur!" said la Peyrade, in stupefaction.

"Yes, I--I who was your uncle's pupil at first, and later his protector
and providence; I, whose influence the last half-century has daily
increased; I, who am wealthy; I, to whom all governments, as they fall
one on top of the others like houses of cards, come to ask for safety
and for the power to rebuild their future; I, who am the manager of a
great theatre of puppets (where I have Columbines in the style of Madame
de Godollo); I, who to-morrow, if it were necessary to the success of
one of my vaudevilles or one of my dramas, might present myself to your
eyes as the wearer of the grand cordon of the Legion of honor, of the
Order of the Black Eagle, or that of the Golden Fleece. Do you wish to
know why neither you nor I will die a violent death like your uncle, and
also why, more fortunate than contemporaneous kings, I can transmit my
sceptre to the successor whom I myself may choose? Because, like you,
my young friend, in spite of your Southern appearance, I was cold,
profoundly calculating, never tempted to lose my time on trifles at the
outskirts; because heat, when I was led by force of circumstances to
employ it, never went below the surface. It is more than probable that
you have heard of me; well, for you I will open a window in my cloud;
look at me, observe me well; have I a cloven hoof, or a tail at the end
of my spine? On the contrary, am I not a model of the most inoffensive
of householders in the Saint-Sulpice quarter? In that quarter, where I
have enjoyed, I may say it, universal esteem for the last twenty-five
years, I am called du Portail; but to you, if you will allow me, I shall
now name myself _Corentin_."

"Corentin!" cried la Peyrade, with terrified astonishment.

"Yes, monsieur; and you see that in telling you that secret I lay my
hand upon you, and enlist you. Corentin! 'the greatest man of the police
in modern times,' as the author of an article in the 'Biographies of
Living Men' has said of me--as to whom I ought in justice to remark that
he doesn't know a thing about my life."

"Monsieur," said la Peyrade, "I can assure you that I shall keep that
se