"Not a sound in here," he said, "no light at night; and stop here till
I come back, or you will go to the hulks. Do you understand, M. le

Comte? Yes, TO THE HULKS! if anybody in a town like this knows that
you are here."

With that Chesnel went out, first telling his housekeeper to give out
that he was ill, to allow no one to come into the house, to send

everybody away, and to postpone business of every kind for three days.
He wheedled the manager of the coach-office, made up a tale for his

benefit--he had the makings of an ingeniousnovelist in him--and
obtained a promise that if there should be a place, he should have it,

passport or no passport, as well as a further promise to keep the
hurrieddeparture a secret. Luckily, the coach was empty when it

arrived.
In the middle of the following night Chesnel was set down in Paris. At

nine o'clock in the morning he waited on the Kellers, and learned that
the fatal draft had returned to du Croisier three days since; but

while obtaining this information, he in no way committed himself.
Before he went away he inquired whether the draft could be recovered

if the amount were refunded. Francois Keller's answer was to the
effect that the document was du Croisier's property, and that it was

entirely in his power to keep or return it. Then, in desperation, the
old man went to the Duchess.

Mme. de Maufrigneuse was not at home to any visitor at that hour.
Chesnel, feeling that every moment was precious, sat down in the hall,

wrote a few lines, and succeeded in sending them to the lady by dint
of wheedling, fascinating, bribing, and commanding the most insolent

and inaccessible servants in the world. The Duchess was still in bed;
but, to the great astonishment of her household, the old man in black

knee-breeches, ribbed stockings, and shoes with buckles to them, was
shown into her room.

"What is it, monsieur?" she asked, posing in her disorder. "What does
he want of me, ungrateful that he is?"

"It is this, Mme. la Duchesse," the good man exclaimed, "you have a
hundred thousand crowns belonging to us."

"Yes," began she. "What does it signify----?"
"The money was gained by a forgery, for which we are going to the

hulks, a forgery which we committed for love of you," Chesnel said
quickly. "How is it that you did not guess it, so clever as you are?

Instead of scolding the boy, you ought to have had the truth out of
him, and stopped him while there was time, and saved him."

At the first words the Duchess understood; she felt ashamed of her
behavior to so impassioned a lover, and afraid besides that she might

be suspected of complicity. In her wish to prove that she had not
touched the money left in her keeping, she lost all regard for

appearances; and besides, it did not occur to her that the notary was
a man. She flung off the eider-down quilt, sprang to her desk

(flitting past the lawyer like an angel out of one of the vignettes
which illustrate Lamartine's books), held out the notes, and went back

in confusion to bed.
"You are an angel, madame." (She was to be an angel for all the world,

it seemed.) "But this will not be the end of it. I count upon your
influence to save us."

"To save you! I will do it or die! Love that will not shrink from a
crime must be love indeed. Is there a woman in the world for whom such

a thing has been done? Poor boy! Come, do not lose time, dear M.
Chesnel; and count upon me as upon yourself."

"Mme. la Duchesse! Mme. la Duchesse!" It was all that he could say, so
overcome was he. He cried, he could have danced; but he was afraid of

losing his senses, and refrained.
"Between us, we will save him," she said, as he left the room.

Chesnel went straight to Josephin. Josephin unlocked the young Count's
desk and writing-table. Very luckily, the notary found letters which

might be useful, letters from du Croisier and the Kellers. Then he
took a place in a diligence which was just about to start; and by dint

of fees to the postilions, the lumberingvehicle went as quickly as
the coach. His two fellow-passengers on the journey happened to be in

as great a hurry as himself, and readily agreed to take their meals in
the carriage. Thus swept over the road, the notary reached the Rue du

Bercail, after three days of absence, an hour before midnight. And yet
he was too late. He saw the gendarmes at the gate, crossed the

threshold, and met the young Count in the courtyard. Victurnien had
been arrested. If Chesnel had had the power, he would beyond a doubt

have killed the officers and men; as it was, he could only fall on
Victurnien's neck.

"If I cannot hush this matter up, you must kill yourself before the
indictment is made out," he whispered. But Victurnien had sunk into

such stupor, that he stared back uncomprehendingly.
"Kill myself?" he repeated.

"Yes. If your courage should fail, my boy, count upon me," said
Chesnel, squeezing Victurnien's hand.

In spite of the anguish of mind and tottering limbs, he stood firmly
planted, to watch the son of his heart, the Comte d'Esgrignon, go out

of the courtyard between two gendarmes, with the commissary, the
justice of the peace, and the clerk of the court; and not until the

figures had disappeared, and the sound of footsteps had died away into
silence, did he recover his firmness and presence of mind.

"You will catch cold, sir," Brigitte remonstrated.
"The devil take you!" cried her exasperated master.

Never in the nine-and-twenty years that Brigitte had been in his
service had she heard such words from him! Her candle fell out of her

hands, but Chesnel neither heeded his housekeeper's alarm nor heard
her exclaim. He hurried off towards the Val-Noble.

"He is out of his mind," said she; "after all, it is no wonder. But
where is he off to? I cannot possibly go after him. What will become

of him? Suppose that he should drown himself?"
And Brigitte went to waken the head-clerk and send him to look along

the river bank; the river had a gloomyreputation just then, for there
had lately been two cases of suicide--one a young man full of promise,

and the other a girl, a victim of seduction. Chesnel went straight to
the Hotel du Croisier. There lay his only hope. The law requires that

a charge of forgery must be brought by a private individual. It was
still possible to withdraw if du Croisier chose to admit that there

had been a misapprehension; and Chesnel had hopes, even then, of
buying the man over.

M. and Mme. du Croisier had much more company than usual that evening.
Only a few persons were in the secret. M. du Ronceret, president of

the Tribunal; M. Sauvager, deputy Public Prosecutor; and M. du
Coudrai, a registrar of mortgages, who had lost his post by voting on

the wrong side, were the only persons who were supposed to know about
it; but Mesdames du Ronceret and du Coudrai had told the news, in

strict confidence, to one or two intimate friends, so that it had
spread half over the semi-noble, semi-bourgeois assembly at M. du

Croisier's. Everybody felt the gravity of the situation, but no one
ventured to speak of it openly; and, moreover, Mme. du Croisier's

attachment to the upper sphere was so well known, that people scarcely
dared to mention the disaster which had befallen the d'Esgrignons or

to ask for particulars. The persons most interested were waiting till
good Mme. du Croisier retired, for that lady always retreated to her

room at the same hour to perform her religious exercises as far as
possible out of her husband's sight.

Du Croisier's adherents, knowing the secret and the plans of the great
commercial power, looked round when the lady of the house disappeared;

but there were still several persons present whose opinions or
interests marked them out as untrustworthy, so they continued to play.

About half past eleven all had gone save intimates: M. Sauvager, M.
Camusot, the examining magistrate, and his wife, M. and Mme. du

Ronceret and their son Fabien, M. and Mme. du Coudrai, and Joseph
Blondet, the eldest of an old judge; ten persons in all.