h, and
nothing can save you from the fate that threatens you.--Then, when you
feel yourself dying, you will have time before breathing your last to
reflect, 'My daughter is a prostitute for the rest of her life!'

"Though you have been such a fool as give us this hold for our clutches,
you still have sense enough to meditate on this ultimatum from our
government. Do not bark, say nothing to any one; go to Contenson's, and
change your dress, and then go home. Katt will tell you that at a word
from you your little Lydie went downstairs, and has not been seen since.
If you make any fuss, if you take any steps, your daughter will begin
where I tell you she will end--she is promised to de Marsay.

"With old Canquoelle I need not mince matters, I should think, or wear
gloves, heh?----Go on downstairs, and take care not to meddle in our
concerns any more."

Asie left Peyrade in a pitiable state; every word had been a blow with
a club. The spy had tears in his eyes, and tears hanging from his cheeks
at the end of a wet furrow.

"They are waiting dinner for Mr. Johnson," said Europe, putting her head
in a moment after.

Peyrade made no reply; he went down, walked till he reached a cab-stand,
and hurried off to undress at Contenson's, not saying a word to him; he
resumed the costume of Pere Canquoelle, and got home by eight o'clock.
He mounted the stairs with a beating heart. When the Flemish woman heard
her master, she asked him:

"Well, and where is mademoiselle?" with such simplicity, that the old
spy was obliged to lean against the wall. The blow was more than he
could bear. He went into his daughter's rooms, and ended by fainting
with grief when he found them empty, and heard Katt's story, which
was that of an abduction as skilfully planned as if he had arranged it
himself.

"Well, well," thought he, "I must knock under. I will be revenged later;
now I must go to Corentin.--This is the first time we have met our foes.
Corentin will leave that handsome boy free to marry an Empress if he
wishes!--Yes, I understand that my little girl should have fallen in
love with him at first sight.--Oh! that Spanish priest is a knowing one.
Courage, friend Peyrade! disgorge your prey!"

The poor father never dreamed of the fearful blow that awaited him.

On reaching Corentin's house, Bruno, the confidential servant, who knew
Peyrade, said:

"Monsieur is gone away."

"For a long time?"

"For ten days."

"Where?"

"I don't