er, would repulse and curse me as the murderer of his only son.
I was born, alas! under an unlucky star."

"Yes, it is all very sad and lamentable, certainly," said the tyrant;
"but worse entanglements than this have come out all right in the end.
You must remember that the Duke of Vallombreuse is only half-brother
to Isabelle, and that they were aware of the relationship but for a
few minutes before he fell dead at our feet; which must make a great
difference in her feelings. And besides, she hated that overbearing
nobleman, who pursued her so cruelly with his violent and scandalous
gallantries. The prince himself was far from being satisfied with his
wretched son--who was ferocious as Nero, dissolute as Heliogabalus, and
perverse as Satan himself, and who would have been hanged ten times over
if he had not been a duke. Do not be so disheartened! things may turn
out a great deal better than you think now."

"God grant it, my good Herode," said de Sigognac fervently. "But
naturally I cannot feel happy about it. It would have been far better
for all if I had been killed instead of the duke, since Isabelle would
have been safe from his criminal pursuit under her father's care. And
then, I may as well tell you all, a secret horror froze the very marrow
in my bones when I saw that handsome young man, but a moment before so
full of life, fire, and passion, fall lifeless, pale and stiff at my
feet. Herode, the death of a man is a grave thing, and though I cannot
suffer from remorse for this one, since I have committed no crime,
still, all the time I see Vallombreuse before me, lying, motionless and
ghastly, with the blood oozing slowly from his wound. It haunts me. I
cannot drive the horrid sight away."

"That is all wrong," said the tyrant, soothingly--for the other was much
excited--"for you could not have done otherwise. Your conscience should
not reproach you. You have acted throughout, from the very beginning to
the end, like the noble gentleman that you are. These scruples are owing
to exhaustion, to the feverishness due to the excitement you have gone
through, and the chill from the night air. We will gallop on swiftly in
a moment, to set our blood flowing more freely, and drive away these sad
thoughts of yours. But one thing must be promptly done; you must quit
Paris, forthwith, and retire for a time to some quiet retreat, until all
this trouble is forgotten. The violent death of the Duke of Vallombreuse
will make a