ou will do a mischief, unhappy man!"

"Take care," exclaimed the infuriated artisan, struggling, "or I shall
commit two crimes instead of one!" and the madman threatened Rodolph.

"Father, it is our benefactor!" exclaimed Louise.

"He is jesting at us; he wants to save the notary," replied Morel, quite
crazed, and struggling with Rodolph. At the end of a second, the latter
disarmed him, carefully opened the door, and threw the file out on the
staircase. Louise ran to the lapidary, embraced him, and said:

"Father, it is our benefactor! You have raised your hand against
him,--recover yourself."

These words recalled Morel to himself, and hiding his face in his hands,
he fell mutely on his knees before Rodolph.

[Illustration: _Morel fell back on the stool._
Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]

"Rise, rise, unhappy father," said Rodolph, in accents of great
kindness; "be patient, be patient, I understand your wrath and share
your hatred; but, in the name of your vengeance, do not compromise your
daughter!"

"Louise!--my daughter!" cried the lapidary, rising, "but what can
justice--the law--do against that? We are but poor wretches, and were we
to accuse this rich, powerful, and respected man, we should be laughed
to scorn. Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed convulsively, "and they would be
right. Where would be our proofs?--yes, our proofs? No one would believe
us. So, I tell you--I tell you," he added, with increased fury, "I tell
you that I have no confidence but in the impartiality of my knife."

"Silence, Morel! your grief distracts you," said Rodolph to him
sorrowfully; "let your daughter speak; the moments are precious; the
magistrate waits; I must know all,--all, I tell you; go on, my child."

Morel fell back on the stool, overwhelmed with his anguish.

"It is useless, sir," continued Louise, "to tell you of my tears, my
prayers. I was thunderstruck. This took place at ten o'clock in the
morning in M. Ferrand's private room. The curate was coming to breakfast
with him, and entered at the moment when my master was assailing me with
reproach and accusations. He appeared much put out at the sight of the
priest."

"What occurred then?"

"Oh, he soon recovered himself, and exclaimed, call him by name, 'Well,
Monsieur l'Abbe, I said so, I said this unhappy girl would be undone.
She is ruined, ruined for ever; she has just confessed to me her fault
and her shame, and entreated me to save her. Only think that, from