rade's note in cipher. Instead of resting, he got into the
hackney coach that had brought him thither, and was driven to the Rue
des Moineaux, where he found only Katt. From her he heard of Lydie's
disappearance, and remained astounded at Peyrade's and his own want of
foresight.

"But they do not know me yet," said he to himself. "This crew is capable
of anything; I must find out if they are killing Peyrade; for if so, I
must not be seen any more----"

The viler a man's life is, the more he clings to it; it becomes at every
moment a protest and a revenge.

Corentin went back to the cab, and drove to his rooms to assume the
disguise of a feeble old man, in a scanty greenish overcoat and a tow
wig. Then he returned on foot, prompted by his friendship for Peyrade.
He intended to give instructions to his most devoted and cleverest
underlings.

As he went along the Rue Saint-Honore to reach the Rue Saint-Roch from
the Place Vendome, he came up behind a girl in slippers, and dressed
as a woman dresses for the night. She had on a white bed-jacket and a
nightcap, and from time to time gave vent to a sob and an involuntary
groan. Corentin out-paced her, and turning round, recognized Lydie.

"I am a friend of your father's, of Monsieur Canquoelle's," said he in
his natural voice.

"Ah! then here is some one I can trust!" said she.

"Do not seem to have recognized me," Corentin went on, "for we are
pursued by relentless foes, and are obliged to disguise ourselves. But
tell me what has befallen you?"

"Oh, monsieur," said the poor child, "the facts but not the story can be
told--I am ruined, lost, and I do not know how----"

"Where have you come from?"

"I don't know, monsieur. I fled with such precipitancy, I have come
through so many streets, round so many turnings, fancying I was being
followed. And when I met any one that seemed decent, I asked my way to
get back to the Boulevards, so as to find the Rue de la Paix. And at
last, after walking----What o'clock is it, monsieur?"

"Half-past eleven," said Corentin.

"I escaped at nightfall," said Lydie. "I have been walking for five
hours."

"Well, come along; you can rest now; you will find your good Katt."

"Oh, monsieur, there is no rest for me! I only want to rest in the
grave, and I will go and wait for death in a convent if I am worthy to
be admitted----"

"Poor little girl!--But you struggled?"

"Oh yes! Oh! if you could only imagine the abject creatures