e, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and too
often. The servants, few in number, were of the truest patriotic
principles, and to some of them the denunciation of the _citoyen_, whom
they condescended to serve because the sacred Revolution had not yet
made them as rich as he, would have been a delightful duty, a
sweet-smelling sacrifice to be laid on the altar of the country. They
heard certain names and places mentioned; they perceived many things
which led them to believe that Henri Glaire was not an industrial artist
and pure patriot, worthy of respect, but a wretched _ci-devant_,
resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteous
destruction of every other kind of dignity. One day a gardener, of less
stoical virtue than his fellows, gave Prosper Alix a warning that the
presence of a _ci-devant_ upon his premises was suspected, and that he
might be certain a domiciliary visit, attended with dangerous results to
himself, would soon take place. Of course the _avocat_ did not commit
himself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot; but he casually
mentioned that Henri Glaire was about to take his leave. What was to be
done? He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving the
instructions he was awaiting; but he must leave the house, and be
supposed to have gone quite away. Without any delay or hesitation,
Prosper explained the facts to Berthe and her lover, and insisted on the
necessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and the readiness of
the girl told. There was no crying, and very little trembling; she was
strong and helpful.

"He must go to Pichon's, father," she said, "and remain there until the
signal is given.--Pichon is a master-mason, Paul," she continued,
turning to her lover, "and his wife was my nurse. They are avaricious
people; but they are fond of me in their way, and they will shelter you
faithfully enough, when they know that my father will pay them
handsomely. You must go at once, unseen by the servants; they are at
supper. Fetch your valise, and bring it to my room. We will put the
casket in it, and such of your things as you must take out to make room
for it, we can hide under the plank. My father will go with you to
Pichon's, and we will communicate with you there as soon as it is safe."

Paul followed her to the large gloomy room where the treasure lay, and
they took the casket from its hiding-place. It was heavy, though not
large, and an awkward thing to pack away among