, does it?"

"No," said the painter, "it is perfectly firm."

Then, entirely master of himself though deadly pale, Esperance probed
the wound.

Goutran watched every movement and studied his face. It was a strange
scene. Jane, with her fair bosom all uncovered, seemed to sleep.

"Goutran," said Esperance in a whisper, "the ball has not gone far--I
can touch it! Give me the case again," he said presently. He selected
other instruments. "I have it!" exclaimed Esperance, and the ball was
in his hand.

As he spoke the kind face of Madame Caraman appeared at the door. For
the last twenty minutes she had heard footsteps over her head in the
room of the deceased Countess, which no one ever entered except the
Count, and now she beheld a stranger on the bed in this sacred room.

"Madame Caraman," said Esperance, "here is a lady accidentally wounded.
I beg of you to take care of her--do all that her condition requires."

"Poor soul!" cried the good woman. "What does it all mean?"

"I am just about to dress the wound. Do not be frightened. One word,
however--I do not wish any one to know that she is here. You will treat
her as if she were my sister."

"Of course, sir, of course, but am I to say nothing to the Count?"

"He is away, I know not where. I desire the secret to be kept
punctiliously."

"Yes, sir, on one condition."

"A condition? And what may that be?"

"It is that, like your father, you will call me Mamma Caraman--not
Madame!"

CHAPTER LIII.

JANE ZELD'S SECRET.

Sanselme rushed from the Maison Vollard. He seemed half wild with grief
and rage. Where was he going? He knew not. Jane had gone without a word
of farewell, and this man, whom we have seen unmoved amid all the
horrors of Toulon, now wept as he ran. Whom should he ask? Two policemen
passed, and, great as was Sanselme's terror of the police, he went up to
them at once. Having by this time recovered his composure, he questioned
them calmly. He was waiting for a lady, he was her intendant. As she was
a foreigner, he was afraid she had gone astray.

One of the men replied, in a surly tone:

"If the lady has servants, how is it that she is out alone and on foot?"

To this natural remark Sanselme had no reply ready. He had been guilty
of a great folly. He realized this now, and felt sure that he would be
watched. Jane had no acquaintances in Paris. She had been out but twice,
once to the charitable fete, when she sang and met with such