old me that I
was too late, that my wife had suffered two days before; and that you
bade me save myself, if I could."

"Ay, she suffered," Mirande answered ironically. "But it was four days
later. And for the rest you tell me nothing but lies, and clumsy ones."

"What I tell you," the Vicomte rejoined, with a solemnity which at last
enforced the other's attention, "is as true as that I loved my wife and
would have died to save her. I swear it!"

M. Mirande passed his hand over his brow, and stood for a moment gazing
at his son-in-law. There was a new expression, an expression almost of
fear, in his eyes.

"Should you know the messenger again?" he asked at last.

"I do not think I should," the Vicomte answered. "He inquired for me by
the name upon which we had agreed. We were together for a few minutes
only, and the night was dark, the only light a distant lanthorn."

"Would he know you, do you think?"

"I cannot say."

M. Mirande shrugged his shoulders, and strode half a dozen times up and
down the room, his face dark with thought, with suspicion, with
uncertainty. At length he stopped before his son-in-law.

"Listen to me," he said, meeting and striving to read the young man's
eyes. "It is possible that what you say is true and that you are not the
coward I have thought you. In that case you shall have justice at my
hands. Before I give you up to the Committee of Safety, who will deal
shortly with you, I will resolve the doubt. Until I find the means to
solve it, you may stay here."

"Indeed?" cried the young man proudly. "But what if I am not willing to
be beholden to you?"

"Then you have your alternative!" Mirande answered coolly. "Come with me
to the nearest Guard House, and I will inform against you. After all, it
will be the shortest way. It was only that being a citizen, and not a
_ci-devant_, I wished to do justice--even to you."

The young man hesitated. He had spoken truly when he suggested that he
was unwilling to be beholden to Mirande. But the alternative meant
certain death.

"I will stop," he said, after a pause, shrugging his shoulders as he
accepted the strange offer made him. "Why should I not? It is your agent
who has lied, not I."

"We shall see," replied the other, without emotion. "There is one thing,
however, I must name to you. I know that you are a gallant among the
ladies, M, de Bercy. My daughter Claire, who was at the seminary when
you visited me before, is now at home. You