e family
record in the 'Almanach de Gotha,"' answered Detricand.

"God's death!" cried the old nobleman, trembling with rage, and
stretching towards the bell-rope, "you shall go to Paris and the Temple.
Fouche will take care of you."

"Stop, monsieur le duc!" Detricand's voice rang through the room. "You
shall not betray even the humblest of your kinsmen, like that monster
d'Orleans who betrayed the highest of his. Be wise: there are hundreds
of your people who still will pass a Royalist on to safety."

The Duke's hand dropped from the bell-rope. He knew that Detricand's
words were true. Ruling himself to quiet, he said with cold hatred:

"Like all your breed, crafty and insolent. But I will make you pay for
it one day."

Glancing towards Philip as though to see if he could move him, Detricand
answered: "Make no haste on my behalf; years are not of such moment to
me as to your Highness."

Philip saw Detricand's look, and felt his moment and his chance had
come. "Monsieur le comte!" he exclaimed threateningly.

The Duke glanced proudly at Philip. "You will collect the debt, cousin,"
said he, and the smile on his face was wicked as he again turned towards
Detricand.

"With interest well compounded," answered Philip firmly.

Detricand smiled. "I have drawn the Norman-Jersey cousin, then?" said
he. "Now we can proceed to compliments." Then with a change of manner
he added quietly: "Your Highness, may the House of Bercy have no worse
enemy than I! I came only to plead the cause which, if it give death,
gives honour too. And I know well that at least you are not against us
in heart. Monsieur d'Avranche"--he turned to Philip, and his words
were slow and deliberate--"I hope we may yet meet in the Place du Vier
Prison--but when and where you will; and you shall find me in the Vendee
when you please." So saying, he bowed, and, turning, left the room.

"What meant the fellow by his Place du Vier Prison?" asked the Duke.

"Who knows, monsieur le duc?" answered Philip. "A fanatic like all the
Vaufontaines--a roysterer yesterday, a sainted chevalier to-morrow,"
said the Duke irritably. "But they still have strength and
beauty--always!" he added reluctantly. Then he looked at the strong and
comely frame before him, and was reassured. He laid a hand on Philip's
broad shoulder, and said admiringly:

"You will of course have your hour with him, cousin: but not--not till
you are a d'Avranche of Bercy."

"Not till I am a d'