on of his own heart and the embodiment of his own
history. Can that man be M. Dantes?"

"If it be he," cried the Secretary, "there is more reason than ever to
call him the most dangerous man in Paris. What with his speeches in the
Chamber and his plays at the theatre, all tending to one most
unrighteous end, and all aiming to inflame such an explosive mass as the
workmen of Paris, he may be regarded as little less than the very agent
of the fiend to accomplish havoc on earth!"

"Yet, strange to say, my dear Secretary," said the journalist,
laughing, "you have not yet estimated the tithe of this man's influence
for good, or, as you think, for evil. Rumor proclaims him to be as
immensely opulent as appearances would indicate him to be impoverished.
That his whole soul, as you say, is devoted to the people, with all his
wonderful powers of mind and person, is undoubted. That he has availed
himself of that grand lever, the press, to accomplish his purposes, be
they good or bad, seems equally certain. 'La Reforme,' the new daily, is
undoubtedly under his control, if not sustained by his pen and his
purse, for it has a wider circulation than all the other Parisian papers
put together. It goes everywhere--it seeks the alleys, not the
boulevards, finds its way to the threshold of all, whether paid for or
not."

"Ah!" cried Debray, in great agitation. "Is it so?"

"And, then, not only is the public press subsidized by this man, if
report is not even falser than usual, but a whole army of pamphleteers,
journalists, litterateurs and students await his bidding, as well as
some of the most distinguished novelists and dramatists of the nation
and age!"

"My God!" exclaimed the Count. "Can this be so?"

"Nay--nay," replied Beauchamp, "I make no assertions, I merely retail
rumors. But what cannot uncounted wealth achieve, directed by genius and
intelligence?"

"But is this man actually so wealthy?" asked Debray, pale with
agitation. "His manners, dress, equipage, residence and mode of life
would indicate just the reverse."

"I know not--no one knows," said Beauchamp. "It is only known to myself
and to a few others that he dwells in the mansion No. 27 Rue du Helder,
formerly the residence of the Count de Morcerf, and that his private
apartment is that pavilion at the corner of the court, where at
half-past ten, on the morning of the 21st of May, 1838, we breakfasted
with our amiable friend Albert, and were met by that remarkab