ngereues, nervously.

A door was flung open, servants were thrust aside, and a man bearing the
inanimate form of a young girl, entered the ball-room.

"Fanfar!" cried Arthur de Montferrand. It was, indeed, Fanfar.

Standing in the centre of the ball-room, for no man ventured to oppose
his progress, he addressed himself to the crowd.

"Gentlemen," he said, "behold the body of the unhappy girl whom the
Vicomte de Talizac has murdered!"

There was a moment of silence, then the women screamed and fled, while
the men turned pale and looked at each other.

Talizac caught at the mantel for support. Fongereues had heard Arthur
utter the name of Fanfar, and shuddered at the ill-omen.

From Francine's drenched garments water was dripping upon the floor, and
the pale face rested on Fanfar's shoulder.

The Marquis hastened forward. "Who is this man? What is he doing here?"
he cried.

"Monsieur," said Fanfar, "a crime has been committed, the guilty must be
punished, and this guilt is upon your son's head. You, gentlemen, seem
to think that to your rank everything is permitted. Behold a young girl
who, pure and industrious, toiled for her daily bread. This Vicomte de
Talizac abducted her with the assistance of his paid emissaries. The
poor creature, driven to despair, committed suicide. This is what your
son has done, Marquis! Can you conceive of a more cowardly or infamous
act?"

And Fanfar, with head erect and lightning in his eyes, looked with
contempt on the people about him.

Arthur rushed to his side. "Dead!" he cried, "is she dead?"

Fanfar gently laid Francine upon the floor. "Is there no one among all
these ladies who will see if this girl lives? Beats there not one heart
under all this silk and velvet?"

A woman advanced and knelt by the side of Francine. It was Irene de
Salves.

"What does this senseless comedy mean?" asked the Marquis de Fongereues,
angrily.

"It is no comedy, it is a horrible tragedy," answered Fanfar, coldly.
"Ask what explanations you please from your son; he must answer you. See
how he trembles; ask him if what I have said is not true?"

Talizac made a violent effort, and turning to his father, said, "This
man lies!"

"And I, sir, swear that he speaks the truth!" cried Arthur de
Montferrand. "Ah! Monsieur de Talizac, you forget too quickly; but my
memory recalls the fact that the marks now on your face were imprinted
yesterday by my hand, when you attacked me with a knife, becaus