wed that under stress of feeling our faculties are
incalculably keen. The Countess heard, or guessed. Before Monsieur de
Granville could turn round, or Monsieur de Bauvan or her husband could
stop her, she fled like a flash out of the door, and reached the Galerie
Marchande, where she ran on to the stairs leading out to the Rue de la
Barillerie.

A pleader was taking off his gown at the door of one of the shops which
from time immemorial have choked up this arcade, where shoes are sold,
and gowns and caps kept for hire.

The Countess asked the way to the Conciergerie.

"Go down the steps and turn to the left. The entrance is from the Quai
de l'Horloge, the first archway."

"That woman is crazy," said the shop-woman; "some one ought to follow
her."

But no one could have kept up with Leontine; she flew.

A physician may explain how it is that these ladies of fashion, whose
strength never finds employment, reveal such powers in the critical
moments of life.

The Countess rushed so swiftly through the archway to the wicket-gate
that the gendarme on sentry did not see her pass. She flew at the barred
gate like a feather driven by the wind, and shook the iron bars with
such fury that she broke the one she grasped. The bent ends were thrust
into her breast, making the blood flow, and she dropped on the ground,
shrieking, "Open it, open it!" in a tone that struck terror into the
warders.

The gatekeepers hurried out.

"Open the gate--the public prosecutor sent me--to save the dead
man!----"

While the Countess was going round by the Rue de la Barillerie and the
Quai de l'Horloge, Monsieur de Granville and Monsieur de Serizy
went down to the Conciergerie through the inner passages, suspecting
Leontine's purpose; but notwithstanding their haste, they only arrived
in time to see her fall fainting at the outer gate, where she was picked
up by two gendarmes who had come down from the guardroom.

On seeing the Governor of the prison, the gate was opened, and the
Countess was carried into the office, but she stood up and fell on her
knees, clasping her hands.

"Only to see him--to see him! Oh! I will do no wrong! But if you do
not want to see me die on the spot, let me look at Lucien dead or
living.--Ah, my dear, are you here? Choose between my death and----"

She sank in a heap.

"You are kind," she said; "I will always love you----"

"Carry her away," said Monsieur de Bauvan.

"No, we will go to Lucien's cell,