enri had sworn
Paquita's death. Henri knew that Cristemio would like to kill him before
he killed Paquita. Both understood each other to perfection.

"The adventure is growing complicated in a most interesting way," said
Henri.

"Where is the gentleman going to?" asked the coachman.

De Marsay was driven to the house of Paul de Manerville. For more than a
week Henri was away from home, and no one could discover either what he
did during this period, nor where he stayed. This retreat saved him from
the fury of the mulatto and caused the ruin of the charming creature who
had placed all her hope in him whom she loved as never human heart had
loved on this earth before. On the last day of the week, about eleven
o'clock at night, Henri drove up in a carriage to the little gate in the
garden of the Hotel San-Real. Four men accompanied him. The driver was
evidently one of his friends, for he stood up on his box, like a man who
was to listen, an attentive sentinel, for the least sound. One of the
other three took his stand outside the gate in the street; the second
waited in the garden, leaning against the wall; the last, who carried in
his hand a bunch of keys, accompanied De Marsay.

"Henri," said his companion to him, "we are betrayed."

"By whom, my good Ferragus?"

"They are not all asleep," replied the chief of the Devourers; "it is
absolutely certain that some one in the house has neither eaten nor
drunk.... Look! see that light!"

"We have a plan of the house; from where does it come?"

"I need no plan to know," replied Ferragus; "it comes from the room of
the Marquise."

"Ah," cried De Marsay, "no doubt she arrived from London to-day. The
woman has robbed me even of my revenge! But if she has anticipated me,
my good Gratien, we will give her up to the law."

"Listen, listen!... The thing is settled," said Ferragus to Henri.

The two friends listened intently, and heard some feeble cries which
might have aroused pity in the breast of a tiger.

"Your marquise did not think the sound would escape by the chimney,"
said the chief of the Devourers, with the laugh of a critic, enchanted
to detect a fault in a work of merit.

"We alone, we know how to provide for every contingency," said Henri.
"Wait for me. I want to see what is going on upstairs--I want to know
how their domestic quarrels are managed. By God! I believe she is
roasting her at a slow fire."

De Marsay lightly scaled the stairs, with which he w