to increase
her anxiety.

"I understand you," she interrupted, "and I believe you. But I also know
that all the people in the country round about are convinced that my
husband commanded the insurrectionists. They believe it, and they will
say it."

"And what of that?"

"If he has been arrested, as you give me to understand, he will be
summoned before a court-martial. Was he not the friend of the Emperor?
That is a crime, as you very well know. He will be convicted and
sentenced to death."

"No, Madame, no! Am I not here? I will appear before the tribunal, and I
shall say: 'Here I am! I have seen and I know all.'"

"But they will arrest you, alas, Monsieur, because you are not a priest
according to the hearts of these cruel men. They will throw you in
prison, and you, will meet him upon the scaffold."

Maurice had been listening, pale and trembling.

But on hearing these last words, he sank upon his knees, hiding his face
in his hands:

"Ah! I have killed my father!" he exclaimed.

"Unhappy child! what do you say?"

The priest motioned him to be silent; but he did not see him, and he
pursued:

"My father was ignorant even of the existence of this conspiracy of
which Monsieur Lacheneur was the guiding spirit; but I knew it--I wished
him to succeed, because on his success depended the happiness of my
life. And then--wretch that I was!--when I wished to attract to our
ranks some timid or wavering accomplice, I used the loved and respected
name of d'Escorval. Ah, I was mad! I was mad!"

Then, with a despairing gesture, he added:

"And yet, even now, I have not the courage to curse my folly! Oh,
mother, mother, if you knew----"

His sobs interrupted him. Just then a faint moan was heard.

Marie-Anne was regaining consciousness. Already she had partially risen
from the sofa, and sat regarding this terrible scene with an air of
profound wonder, as if she did not understand it in the least.

Slowly and gently she put back her hair from her face, and opened and
closed her eyes, which seemed dazzled by the light of the candles.

She endeavored to speak, to ask some question, but Abbe Midon commanded
silence by a gesture.

Enlightened by the words of Mme. d'Escorval and by the confession of
Maurice, the abbe understood at once the extent of the frightful danger
that menaced the baron and his son.

How was this danger to be averted? What must be done?

He had no time for explanation or reflection; with eac