and two or three of the hotel
servants with lights were standing in the hall.

"Is the Marquis de Beaujardin staying here?" asked Isidore, abruptly.

"No, he is not," answered, the hotel-keeper; "but he came to the Hotel
du Roi this afternoon; you will find him there. Stand aside."

At this moment a gentleman in a riding suit, and booted and spurred,
passed through the hall and descended the steps, accompanied by the
landlord, who officiously held the stirrup as he mounted.

"Stay," said he, bending forward and addressing the hotel-keeper in an
undertone, "should a person named Jasmin come again, you will tell him
that I am obliged by his assistance, which has been quite successful.
Should he not return, send this message to him to-morrow at the Hotel
du Roi; he is in the _suite_ of the Marquis de Beaujardin." With these
words the speaker put spurs to his horse and galloped off, followed by
his attendants.

Isidore had not seen the speaker's face indeed, but he knew that voice
only too well. What! had his own father then come there in league with
de Crillon to hunt her down so relentlessly? Had they even employed
his own discharged menial to personate him and entrap her? With his
brows knit and his teeth set close, he bent his steps in the direction
of the Hotel du Roi, but he had not gone far before he stopped; then,
after considering for a minute or two, he turned and made his way
almost mechanically to the Quai La Fosse.

The landlord was standing at the door, peering anxiously out into the
darkness, but Isidore passed him without notice, and hurrying by into
the little parlour threw himself into a chair; there, burying his face
in his hands, he gave way for the first time, and broke into a
passionate outburst of grief and despair.

Perigord stood near him for a while, not daring to intrude on his
distress; but at last he approached him timidly, and laying his hand on
his shoulder tried to calm and soothe him. Then, growing bolder, he
began to implore him at least to try and save his own life. But
Isidore seemed not to heed him. "His own life! What was life to him
now--now that he had lost all that seemed to him to make life worth
preserving?"

"For the poor young creature's sake," continued Jean, the tears running
down his cheeks, "save yourself. Perhaps you may yet find some one;
surely there must be some one who may have the power to help you to try
and rescue her." As he said this, poor Jean