authority of the example--seemed to
make a vivid impression upon the duke. He was silent for a moment, and
Marie-Anne fancied she saw an expression of relief steal over his face.

"Such an attempt would be very hazardous," he murmured; "yet, with care,
and if one were sure that the secret would be kept----"

"Oh! the secret will be religiously preserved, Monsieur," interrupted
Marie-Anne.

With a glance Martial recommended silence; then turning to his father,
he said:

"One can always consider an expedient, and calculate the
consequences--that does not bind one. When is this sentence to be
carried into execution?"

"To-morrow," responded the duke.

But even this terrible response did not cause Marie-Anne any alarm.
The duke's anxiety and terror had taught her how much reason she had to
hope; and she saw that Martial had openly espoused her cause.

"We have, then, only the night before us," resumed the marquis.
"Fortunately, it is only half-past seven, and until ten o'clock my
father can visit the citadel without exciting the slightest suspicion."

He paused suddenly. His eyes, in which had shone almost absolute
confidence, became gloomy. He had just discovered an unexpected and, as
it seemed to him, almost insurmountable difficulty.

"Have we any intelligent men in the citadel?" he murmured. "The
assistance of a jailer or of a soldier is indispensable."

He turned to his father, and brusquely asked: "Have you any man in whom
you can confide?"

"I have three or four spies--they can be bought."

"No! the wretch who betrays his comrade for a few sous, will betray you
for a few louis. We must have an honest man who sympathizes with the
opinions of Baron d'Escorval--an old soldier who fought under Napoleon,
if possible."

A sudden inspiration visited Marie-Anne's mind.

"I know the man that you require!" she cried.

"You?"

"Yes, I. At the citadel."

"Take care! Remember that he must risk much. If this should be
discovered, those who take part in it will be sacrificed."

"He of whom I speak is the man you need. I will be responsible for him."

"And he is a soldier?"

"He is only an humble corporal; but the nobility of his nature entitles
him to the highest rank. Believe me, we can safely confide in him."

If she spoke thus, she who would willingly have given her life for the
baron's salvation, she must be absolutely certain.

So thought Martial.

"I will confer with this man," said he. "What is