you not fire, sir? Why do you not fire? Are you afraid of
blood? Shoot! I have been the lover of your wife: your youngest daughter
is my child."

The count lowered his weapon.

"The courts of justice are more certain," he said. "You have robbed me
of my honor: now I want yours. And, if you cannot be condemned without
it, I shall say, I shall swear, that I recognized you. You shall go to
the galleys, M. de Boiscoran."

He was on the point of coming forward; but his strength was exhausted,
and he fell forward, face downward, and arms outstretched.

Overcome with horror, half mad, Jacques fled.

XXIX.

M. Folgat had just risen. Standing before his mirror, hung up to one of
the windows in his room, he had just finished shaving himself, when the
door was thrown open violently, and old Anthony appeared quite beside
himself.

"Ah, sir, what a terrible thing!"

"What?"

"Run away, disappeared!"

"Who?"

"Master Jacques!"

The surprise was so great, that M. Folgat nearly let his razor drop: he
said, however, peremptorily,--

"That is false!"

"Alas, sir," replied the old servant, "everybody is full of it in town.
All the details are known. I have just seen a man who says he met master
last night, about eleven o'clock, running like a madman down National
Street."

"That is absurd."

"I have only told Miss Dionysia so far, and she sent me to you. You
ought to go and make inquiry."

The advice was not needed. Wiping his face hastily, the young advocate
went to dress at once. He was ready in a moment; and, having run down
the stairs, he was crossing the passage when he heard somebody call his
name. He turned round, and saw Dionysia making him a sign to come into
the boudoir in which she was usually sitting. He did so.

Dionysia and the young advocate alone knew what a desperate venture
Jacques had undertaken the night before. They had not said a word about
it to each other; but each had noticed the preoccupation of the other.
All the evening M. Folgat had not spoken ten words, and Dionysia had,
immediately after dinner, gone up to her own room.

"Well?" she asked.

"The report, madam, must be false," replied the advocate.

"Who knows?"

"His evasion would be a confession of his crime. It is only the guilty
who try to escape; and M. de Boiscoran is innocent. You can rest quite
assured, madam, it is not so. I pray you be quiet."

Who would not have pitied the poor girl at that moment? She was as w