ow voice, "at the return of Madame
Bonaparte from Boulogne, that Mademoiselle de Meudon learned you were
not at liberty. She has made me acquainted with the circumstances by
which your present risk has been incurred, and has put me in possession
of wherewithal to establish your innocence as regards the adventure
at the chateau d'Ancre. This disclosure, if it exculpates you, will of
course criminate her, and among those, too, where she has been received
and admitted on terms of the closest friendship. The natural desire to
save her cousin's life will not cover the act by which so horrible a
conspiracy might have escaped punishment. Bonaparte never forgives! Now,
I am in possession of this proof; and if you demand it, it shall be
in your keeping. I have no hesitation in saying that the other charges
against you can easily be got over, this one being refuted. What do you
say?"

"Nothing could make me accept of such an exculpation," said I,
resolutely; "and were it offered in spite of me, I 'll plead guilty to
the whole act, and suffer with the rest."

The old man's eyes glistened with 'pleasure, and I thought I saw a tear
fall on his cheek.

"Now," cried he, as he grasped my hand in both his--"now I feel that
you are innocent, my brave boy, and, come what will, I 'll stand by
you."

With that he hurried from the cell, and followed the advocate, who was
already calling with some impatience to have the doors unlocked.

I was again alone. No, not alone, for in my narrow cell hope was with me
now.

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE TRIAL.

So doubtful was the Government of the day in what way the people
of Paris would be disposed to regard the trial of the _Chouan_
prisoners,--how far public sympathy might side with misfortune and
heroism, and in what way they would regard Moreau, whose career in arms
so many had witnessed with pride and enthusiasm,--that for several days
they did not dare to strike the decisive blow which was to establish
their guilt, but advanced with slow and cautious steps, gradually
accumulating a mass of small circumstances, on which the "Moniteur" each
day commented, and the other journals of less authority expatiated,
as if to prepare the public mind for further and more important
revelations.

At last, however, the day arrived in which the mine was to be sprung.
The secret police--whose information extended to all that went on in
every class of the capital, and who knew the chitchat of the highest
c