but my wife did. It was terrible. The carriage,
a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction of the
Madeleine. The horses had run away; and already there had been an
accident in the Place du Chateau d'Eau, where an old woman had been
knocked down. Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the toy-shop,
which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches into
the wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachman
is thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside,--a very
pretty girl, who lives in this hotel."

Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed through
the narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies. At the moment when
he reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.

Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill,
the poor fellow looked like a madman. Noticing M. de Tregars,

"Ah, my friend!" he exclaimed, "what misfortune!"

"Lucienne?"

"Dead, perhaps. The doctor will not answer for her recovery. I
am going to the druggist's to get a prescription."

He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kind
protection had hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne. He was coming
out of the little room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins used
for an office, bedroom, and dining-room.

He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, he
pressed his hand, saying, "Well, you know?"

"Yes."

"It is my fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified. I knew
so well that Mlle. Lucienne's existence was threatened, I was so
fully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she went
out riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman's livery, who
took his seat by the side of the coachman. To-day my man was so
busy, that I said to myself, 'Bash, for once!' And behold the
consequences!"

It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.
It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius and
the commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of long
intercourse, real esteem, and common hopes.

"It is not an accident, then," remarked M. de Tregars.

"The coachman has spoken, doubtless?"

"No: the wretch was killed on the spot."

And, without waiting for another question,

"But don't let us stay here," said the commissary.

"Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins'
office."

The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment with
Ml