ng his Empire on a more solid basis than it has ever
stood before. Have you ever known Napoleon to fail in what he set
himself to do? I tell you that he is not crushed--that he is not even
defeated. Within a month the allies will be on their knees begging for
peace. The era of your Bourbon kings is more absolutely dead to-day than
it has ever been. And after to-day there will be nothing for a royalist
like your father or like Maurice de St. Genis but exile and humiliation
more dire than before. Your father's fate rests entirely in your hands.
I can direct his destiny, his life or his death, just as I please. When
you are my wife, I will forgive him the insults which he heaped on me at
Brestalou . . . but not before. . . . As for Maurice de St. Genis
. . ."

"And what of him, you abominable cur?"

The shout which came from behind him checked the words on de Marmont's
lips. He let go his hold of Crystal's arm as he felt two sinewy hands
gripping him by the throat. The attack was so swift and so unexpected
that he was entirely off his guard: he lost his footing upon the
slippery floor, and before he could recover himself he was being forced
back and back until his spine was bent nearly double and his head
pressed down backward almost to the level of his knees.

"Let him go, Maurice! you might kill him. Throw him out of the door."

It was M. le Comte de Cambray who spoke. He and St. Genis had arrived
just in time to save Crystal from a further unpleasant scene. She,
however, had not lost her presence of mind. She had certainly listened
to de Marmont's final tirade, because she knew that she was helpless in
his hands, but she had never been frightened for a moment. Jeanne was
within call, and she herself had never been timorous: at the same time
she was thankful enough that her father and St. Genis were here.

Maurice was almost blind with rage: he would have killed de Marmont but
for the Comte's timely words, which luckily had the effect of sobering
him at this critical moment. He relaxed his convulsive grip on de
Marmont's throat, but the latter had already lost his balance; he fell
heavily, his body sliding along the slippery floor, while his head
struck against the projecting woodwork of the door.

He uttered a loud cry of pain as he fell, then remained lying inert on
the ground, and in the dim light his face took on an ashen hue.

In an instant Crystal was by his side.

"You have killed him, Maurice," she cried,