ll be to me. Your scholar does you honour, my brave
Pierre, and I won great praise and applause for my really too easy
victory. In spite of the constant novelty and excitement of my new way
of life, my thoughts often return to dwell upon my poor old chateau,
crumbling gradually into ruin over the tombs of my ancestors. From afar
it does not seem so desolate and forlorn, and there are times when
I fancy myself there once more, gazing up at the venerable family
portraits, wandering through the deserted rooms, and I find a sort
of melancholy pleasure in it. How I wish that I could look into your
honest, sunburnt face, lighted up with the glad smile that always
greeted me--and I am not ashamed to confess that I long to hear
Beelzebub's contented purring, Miraut's joyful bark, and the loud
whinnying of my poor old Bayard, who never failed to recognise my
step. Are they all still alive--the good, faithful, affectionate
creatures--and do they seem to remember me? Have you been able to keep
yourself and them from starvation thus far? Try to hold out until my
return, my good Pierre, so as to share my fate--be it bright or dark,
happy or sad--that we may finish our days together in the place where we
have suffered so much, yet which is so dear to us all. If I am to be the
last of the de Sigognacs, I can only say, the will of God be done. There
is still a vacant place left for me in the vault where my forefathers
lie.

"BARON DE SIGOGNAC."

The baron sealed this letter with the ring bearing his family arms,
which was the only jewel remaining in his possession; directed it, and
put it into his portfolio, to wait until he should find an opportunity
to forward it to Gascony. Although by this time it was very late, he
could still hear the vague roar of the great city, which, like the sound
of the ocean, never entirely ceases, and was so strange and novel to
him, in contrast with the profound silence of the country that he had
been accustomed to all his life long. As he sat listening to it, he
thought he heard cautious footsteps in the corridor, and extinguishing
his light, softly opened his door just a very little way, scarcely more
than a crack--and caught a glimpse of a man, enveloped in a large cloak,
stealing along slowly in the direction the other one had taken. He
listened breathlessly until he heard him reach, and quietly enter,
apparently the same door. A few minutes later, while he was still on the
lookout, another one came