"'And Jacques Haret?'

"The old man nodded, and then fell against the doorpost. I asked if
anything could be done. I would myself with pistols pursue Jacques
Haret if required. I was likewise enraged on my own account that so
vile a use should have been made of my hospitality.

"'Nothing can be done,' replied the old man, in a terrible voice--terrible
because of its echo of despair. 'It is I--I who am to blame. All said
that my other two nieces were bad--that they, and not I, were to
blame--but now it is proved that it is I who should be judged. I made
Monsieur Jacques welcome in my poor house. I made Lisa tend him. Now who,
knowing his power over a poor and ignorant girl like my Lisa, can fail to
see that it is I--I--who am the great sinner. I made the temptation for
them--if Lisa's soul is lost, it is I who should be everlastingly
punished.'

"What could one say to that, from a broken-hearted poor old creature?
However, I promised him and myself, too, that if ever I met Jacques
Haret, if it were at the gates of hell, or if it were in the presence
of St. Peter, I would have one good blow at him. Then the old man's
grief took on the aspect of strong despair. I walked with him through
the fields to the chateau of Capello, for he was not really able to go
alone. When we reached the terrace, there was Mademoiselle Capello.
She was ever an early riser. She ran toward us, and Peter uttered but
two words, 'Jacques Haret--my Lisa,' and all was known. Mademoiselle
Capello put her arm about the old man's neck--yes, the faithful old
serving-man was embraced by that tender, loving heart.

"'Dear Peter,' she said, 'Lisa will come back--she will repent--doubt
not that--and she shall be welcomed as the lost sheep who was found by
the Good Shepherd, and restored to the sheepfold. But, for Jacques
Haret, there shall be no mercy. Peter, I declare to you, I feel strong
enough at this moment to fly at Jacques Haret's throat and strangle
him--and do God service thereby.'

"'Mademoiselle,' said I, 'command me. This old man is not the only
person Jacques Haret has injured. I, too, have a mortal injury to
avenge--for he was my guest.'

"'Avenge it, then,' she said, her eyes sparkling--'vengeance is mine,
saith the Lord--but I take it, God selects His instruments from among
men. And I shall also ask that Captain Babache keep an eye open for
that wicked man--'"

"I will," I interrupted.

"'And it shall go hard if he be not punished,