e--he moved restlessly to and fro, pondering deeply. Since the
moment when he had seen and recognized his daughter, all the buoyancy
which had given his wasted figure a sort of galvanic vitality seemed
to vanish. It was like the exhaustion of a battery, the collapse of
the sustaining power.

"That resemblance can not be coincidence!" he thought. "Oh, errors of
the past, you come home in our old age when the limbs are faltering
and life is failing!"

Going to the _secretaire_, he took out a box that had not been opened
in years, and, with trembling fingers, turned over many papers. He
shivered, and, thinking it was cold, stirred the fire. Returning to
the secretary, he took from the box a package tied with a ribbon
still, after the lapse of these many years, slightly fragrant, and he
breathed that perfume, so faint, so subtle, while recollections smote
him like a knife.

Its scent was familiar to him; it seemed to bring life to the dead,
and for the moment in his mind's eye he saw her glowing figure, the
love of his youth, with flashing, revengeful eyes and noble mien. He
cowered over the desk, as if shrinking from an avenging spirit, while
the perfume, like opium, filled his brain with strange fantasies. He
strove to drown remembrance, but some force--it seemed not his
own!--drove him irresistibly to untie that ribbon, to scrutinize many
old theater programs and to gaze upon a miniature in ivory depicting a
woman in the loveliness of her charms, but whose striking likeness to
the young actress he had just seen filled his heart with strange fear.
Some power--surely it could not have been his will which rebelled
strenuously!--impelled him to open those letters and to read them word
for word. The tenderness of the epistles fell on his heart as though
to scorch it, and he quivered like a guilty wretch. His eyes were
fascinated by these words in her last letter: "Should you desert me
and your unborn child, your end will be miserable. As I believe in
retribution, I am sure you will reap as you have sown."

Suddenly the reader in a frenzy threw the letter to the floor and
trampled on it. He regarded the face in the miniature with fear and
hatred, and dashing it into the drawer, called down maledictions on
her. He ceased abruptly, weak and wavering.

"I am going insane," he said, laughing harshly. "Fool! To let that
woman's memory disturb me. So much for her dire prophecy!" And he
snapped his fingers and dropped the lette