come from your province, with that brutality, that frenzy of Southern
blood in your veins which flings itself upon such an occasion. Besides,
your relationship became known to those who were preparing the ruin of
this new Clarissa Harlowe, and I am willing to believe than an abler and
better man than you might not have escaped the entanglement into
which you fell. Happily, Providence has granted that there is nothing
absolutely irreparable in this horrible history. The same poison,
according to the use that is made of it, may give either death or
health."

"But, monsieur," said la Peyrade, "shall I not always be to her an
object of horror?"

"The doctor, monsieur," said Katte, opening the door.

"How is Mademoiselle Lydie?" asked la Peyrade, eagerly.

"Very calm," replied Katte. "Just now, when we put her to bed,--though
she did not want to go, saying she felt well,--I took her the bundle of
linen, but she told me to take it away, and asked what I meant her to do
with it."

"You see," said Corentin, grasping the Provencal's hand, "you are the
lance of Achilles."

And he left the room with Katte to receive Doctor Bianchon.

Left alone, Theodose was a prey to thoughts which may perhaps be
imagined. After a while the door opened, and Bruneau, the old valet,
ushered in Cerizet. Seeing la Peyrade, the latter exclaimed:--

"Ha! ha! I knew it! I knew you would end by seeing du Portail. And the
marriage,--how does that come on?"

"What are you doing here?" asked la Peyrade.

"Something that concerns you; or rather, something that we must do
together. Du Portail, who is too busy to attend to business just now,
has sent me in here to see you, and consult as to the best means of
putting a spoke in Thuillier's election; it seems that the government is
determined to prevent his winning it. Have you any ideas about it?"

"No," replied la Peyrade; "and I don't feel in the mood just now to be
imaginative."

"Well, here's the situation," said Cerizet. "The government has another
candidate, which it doesn't yet produce, because the ministerial
negotiations with him have been rather difficult. During this time
Thuillier's chances have been making headway. Minard, on whom they
counted to create a diversion, sits, the stupid fool, in his corner; the
seizure of that pamphlet has given your blockhead of a protege a certain
perfume of popularity. In short, the ministry are afraid he'll be
elected, and nothing could be more dis