ed the page, "that having so many
dangerous affairs on hand; you did not relieve your conscience of this
one."

"I intend," replied the marquis, "to restore this child to his father: I
have been ordered to do so by a Capuchin to whom I confessed having
carried off from the midst of the family, without their knowing it, a
grandson of a marshal of France and son of a governor of a province."

The marquis had at that time permission to go out from prison
occasionally on his parole. This will not surprise anyone acquainted
with the ideas which prevailed at that period on the honour of a
nobleman, even the greatest criminal. The marquis, profiting by this
facility, took the page to see a child of about seven years of age, fair
and with a beautiful countenance.

"Page," said he, "look well at this child, so that you may know him again
when I shall send you to inquire about him."

He then informed him that this was the Count de Saint-Geran's son whom he
had carried away.

Information of these matters coming to the ears of justice, decisive
proofs were hoped for; but this happened just when other criminal
informations were lodged against the marquis, which left him helpless to
prevent the exposure of his crimes. Police officers were despatched in
all haste to the Conciergerie; they were stopped by the gaolers, who told
them that the marquis, feeling ill, was engaged with a priest who was
administering the sacraments, to him. As they insisted on seeing him;
the warders approached the cell: the priest came out, crying that persons
must be sought to whom the sick man had a secret to reveal; that he was
in a desperate state, and said he had just poisoned himself; all entered
the cell.

M. de Saint-Maixent was writhing on a pallet, in a pitiable condition,
sometimes shrieking like a wild beast, sometimes stammering disconnected
words. All that the officers could hear was--

"Monsieur le Comte . . . call . . . the Countess . . . de
Saint-Geran . . . let them come. . . ." The officers earnestly
begged him to try to be more explicit.

The marquis had another fit; when he opened his eyes, he said--

"Send for the countess . . . let them forgive me . . . I wish to
tell them everything." The police officers asked him to speak; one even
told him that the count was there. The marquis feebly murmured--

"I am going to tell you----" Then he gave a loud cry and fell back dead.

It thus seemed as if fa