habitual hue of his countenance,--he remained
perfectly still in the hands of his arresters; and if there was any
vestige of his mind discoverable in his sallow features and glittering
eye, it was not the sign of fear, or confusion, or even surprise; but a
ready promptness to meet danger, coupled, perhaps, with a little doubt
whether to defy or to seek first to diminish it.

Long did I gaze upon him,--struggling with internal rage and loathing,
the mingled contempt and desire of destruction with which we gaze
upon the erect aspect of some small but venomous and courageous
reptile,--long did I gaze upon him before I calmed and collected my
voice to speak:

"So I have _thee_ at last! First comes the base tool, and that will I
first break, before I lop off the guiding hand."

"So please Monsieur my Lord the Count," answered Desmarais, bowing to
the ground, "the tool is a file, and it would be useless to bite against
it."

"We will see that," said I, drawing my sword; "prepare to die!" and I
pointed the blade to his throat with so sudden and menacing a gesture
that his eyes closed involuntarily, and the blood left his thin cheek as
white as ashes: but he shrank not.

"If Monsieur," said he, with a sort of smile, "will kill his poor,
old, faithful servant, let him strike. Fate is not to be resisted; and
prayers are useless!"

"Oswald," said I, "release your prisoner; wait here, and keep strict
watch. Jean Desmarais, follow me!"

I ascended the stairs, and Desmarais followed. "Now," I said, when he
was alone with Gerald and myself, "your days are numbered: you will
fall; not by my hand, but by that of the executioner. Not only your
forgery, but your robbery, your abetment of murder, are known to me;
your present lord, with an indignation equal to my own, surrenders you
to justice. Have you aught to urge, not in defence--for to that I will
not listen--but in atonement? _Can_ you now commit any act which
will cause me to forego justice on those which you _have_ committed?"
Desmarais hesitated. "Speak," said I. He raised his eyes to mine with an
inquisitive and wistful look.

"Monsieur," said the wretch, with his obsequious smile, "Monsieur has
travelled, has shone, has succeeded; Monsieur must have made enemies:
let him name them, and his poor, old, _faithful_ servant will do his
best to become the humble instrument of their _fate_!"

Gerald drew himself aside, and shuddered. Perhaps till then he had not
been fully