of our Adeline, made so happy by you, makes
death easy to me. Now you need not send the two hundred thousand
francs. Good-bye.

"This letter will be delivered by a prisoner for a short term whom
I can trust, I believe.

"JOHANN FISCHER."

"I beg your pardon," said Marshal Hulot to the Prince de Wissembourg
with pathetic pride.

"Come, come, say _tu_, not the formal _vous_," replied the Minister,
clasping his old friend's hand. "The poor lancer killed no one but
himself," he added, with a thunderous look at Hulot d'Ervy.

"How much have you had?" said the Comte de Forzheim to his brother.

"Two hundred thousand francs."

"My dear friend," said the Count, addressing the Minister, "you shall
have the two hundred thousand francs within forty-eight hours. It shall
never be said that a man bearing the name of Hulot has wronged the
public treasury of a single sou."

"What nonsense!" said the Prince. "I know where the money is, and I can
get it back.--Send in your resignation and ask for your pension!" he
went on, sending a double sheet of foolscap flying across to where the
Councillor of State had sat down by the table, for his legs gave way
under him. "To bring you to trial would disgrace us all. I have already
obtained from the superior Board their sanction to this line of
action. Since you can accept life with dishonor--in my opinion the last
degradation--you will get the pension you have earned. Only take care to
be forgotten."

The Minister rang.

"Is Marneffe, the head-clerk, out there?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"Show him in!"

"You," said the Minister as Marneffe came in, "you and your wife have
wittingly and intentionally ruined the Baron d'Ervy whom you see."

"Monsieur le Ministre, I beg your pardon. We are very poor. I have
nothing to live on but my pay, and I have two children, and the one that
is coming will have been brought into the family by Monsieur le Baron."

"What a villain he looks!" said the Prince, pointing to Marneffe and
addressing Marshal Hulot.--"No more of Sganarelle speeches," he went
on; "you will disgorge two hundred thousand francs, or be packed off to
Algiers."

"But, Monsieur le Ministre, you do not know my wife. She has spent it
all. Monsieur le Baron asked six persons to dinner every evening.--Fifty
thousand francs a year are spent in my house."

"Leave the room!" said the Minister, in the formidable tones that
had given the word to charge in battle. "You will