re was a diabolical irony in his tone.

Dexterously as the Marquis passed the light of the lantern over the
man's face, he could only see the lower half of it, and that in nowise
prepossessed him in favor of this singular claimant of hospitality.
The cheeks were livid and quivering, the features dreadfully contorted.
Under the shadow of the hat-brim a pair of eyes gleamed out like flames;
the feeble candle-light looked almost dim in comparison. Some sort of
answer must be made however.

"Your language, sir, is so extraordinary that in my place you
yourself--"

"My life is in your hands!" the intruder broke in. The sound of his
voice was dreadful to hear.

"Two hours?" said the Marquis, wavering.

"Two hours," echoed the other.

Then quite suddenly, with a desperate gesture, he pushed back his
hat and left his forehead bare, and, as if he meant to try a final
expedient, he gave the General a glance that seemed to plunge like
a vivid flash into his very soul. That electrical discharge of
intelligence and will was swift as lightning and crushing as a
thunderbolt; for there are moments when a human being is invested for a
brief space with inexplicable power.

"Come, whoever you may be, you shall be in safety under my roof," the
master of the house said gravely at last, acting, as he imagined, upon
one of those intuitions which a man cannot always explain to himself.

"God will repay you!" said the stranger, with a deep, involuntary sigh.

"Have you weapons?" asked the General.

For all answer the stranger flung open his fur pelisse, and scarcely
gave the other time for a glance before he wrapped it about him again.
To all appearance he was unarmed and in evening dress. Swift as the
soldier's scrutiny had been, he saw something, however, which made him
exclaim:

"Where the devil have you been to get yourself in such a mess in such
dry weather?"

"More questions!" said the stranger haughtily.

At the words the Marquis caught sight of his son, and his own late
homily on the strict fulfilment of a given word came up to his mind. In
lively vexation, he exclaimed, not without a touch of anger:

"What! little rogue, you here when you ought to be in bed?"

"Because I thought I might be of some good in danger," answered Gustave.

"There, go up to your room," said his father, mollified by the
reply.--"And you" (addressing the stranger), "come with me."

The two men grew as silent as a pair of gamblers who watch e