you say one word of this, I shall be
murdered on my way to that ball. Yesterday I had warning enough. Yes,
that woman is quick to act. Ah! I implore you," she said, "contrive that
no harm shall come to me at the ball."

"You will be there under my protection," said the count, proudly.
"But," he added, with a doubtful air, "are you coming for the sake of
Montauran?"

"You wish to know more than I know myself," she answered, laughing. "Now
go," she added, after a pause. "I will take you to the gate of the town
myself, for this seems to me a cannibal warfare."

"Then you do feel some interest in me?" exclaimed the count. "Ah!
mademoiselle, permit me to hope that you will not be insensible to my
friendship--for that sentiment must content me, must it not?" he added
with a conceited air.

"Ah! diviner!" she said, putting on the gay expression a woman assumes
when she makes an avowal which compromises neither her dignity nor her
secret sentiments.

Then, having slipped on a pelisse, she accompanied him as far as
the Nid-aux-Crocs. When they reached the end of the path she said,
"Monsieur, be absolutely silent on all this; even to the marquis"; and
she laid her finger on both lips.

The count, emboldened by so much kindness, took her hand; she let him do
so as though it were a great favor, and he kissed it tenderly.

"Oh! mademoiselle," he cried, on knowing himself beyond all danger,
"rely on me for life, for death. Though I owe you a gratitude equal to
that I owe my mother, it will be very difficult to restrain my feelings
to mere respect."

He sprang into the narrow pathway. After watching him till he
reached the rocks of Saint-Sulpice, Marie nodded her head in sign of
satisfaction, saying to herself in a low voice: "That fat fellow has
given me more than his life for his life! I can make him my creator at
a very little cost! Creature or creator, that's all the difference there
is between one man and another--"

She did not finish her thought, but with a look of despair she turned
and re-entered the Porte Saint-Leonard, where Hulot and Corentin were
awaiting her.

"Two more days," she cried, "and then--" She stopped, observing that
they were not alone--"he shall fall under your guns," she whispered to
Hulot.

The commandant recoiled a step and looked with a jeering contempt,
impossible to render, at the woman whose features and expression gave no
sign whatever of relenting. There is one thing remarkable about