o remain outside,
and then rang the bell violently. A servant appeared.

"I am not at home to anybody, and let no one enter here,--no one, do you
hear?"

The servant bowed and retired. Sarah, for the sake of greater security,
pushed to the bolt. The Chouette heard the order given to the servant,
and saw Sarah fasten the bolt. The countess then turning towards her,
said: "Come in quickly, and shut the door."

The Chouette did as she was bidden.

Hastily opening a _secretaire_, Sarah took from it an ebony coffer,
which she placed on a writing-table in the centre of the room, and
beckoned the Chouette towards her. The coffer was filled with small
caskets lying one upon the other, and containing splendid jewelry. Sarah
was in so much haste to arrive at the bottom of the coffer, that she
hastily scattered over the table these jewel-cases, splendidly filled
with necklaces, bracelets, tiaras of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds,
which sparkled with a thousand fires.

The Chouette was dazzled. She was armed, was alone with the countess;
escape was easy--certain. An infernal idea shot through the brain of
this monster. But to put this new crime into execution it was necessary
to extricate her stiletto from her basket, and approach Sarah without
exciting her suspicions.

With the craft of the tiger-cat, who grovels along treacherously towards
its prey, the beldame profited by the countess's preoccupation to move
imperceptibly around the table which separated her from her victim. The
Chouette had already begun her perfidious movement, when she was
compelled suddenly to stop short. Sarah took a locket from the bottom of
the box, leaned over the table, and, handing it to the Chouette with a
trembling hand, said:

"Look at this portrait."

"It is Pegriotte!" exclaimed the Chouette, struck with the strong
resemblance; "it is the little girl who was handed to me! I think I see
her just as she was when Tournemine brought her to me. That's just like
her long curling hair, which I cut off and sold directly, _ma foi!_"

"You recognise her; it is really she? Oh, I conjure you, do not deceive
me--do not deceive me!"

"I tell you, my good lady, it is Pegriotte, as if I saw herself there,"
said the Chouette, trying to draw nearer to Sarah without being
remarked. "And even now she is very like this portrait; if you saw her
you would be struck by the likeness."

Sarah had not uttered one cry of pain or alarm when she learned that her