in such a town and at such an hour of the night;
the young man in question was sufficiently inquisitive to stand in a
doorway and watch. He saw Mlle. Armande alight.

"Mlle. Armande d'Esgrignon at this time of night!" said he to himself.
"What can be going forward at the d'Esgrignons'?"

At the sight of mademoiselle, Chesnel opened the door circumspectly and
set down the light which he was carrying; but when he looked out and saw
Victurnien, Mlle. Armande's first whispered word made the whole
thing plain to him. He looked up and down the street; it seemed quite
deserted; he beckoned, and the young Count sprang out of the carriage
and entered the courtyard. All was lost. Chesnel's successor had
discovered Victurnien's hiding place.

Victurnien was hurried into the house and installed in a room beyond
Chesnel's private office. No one could enter it except across the old
man's dead body.

"Ah! M. le Comte!" exclaimed Chesnel, notary no longer.

"Yes, monsieur," the Count answered, understanding his old friend's
exclamation. "I did not listen to you; and now I have fallen into the
depths, and I must perish."

"No, no," the good man answered, looking triumphantly from Mlle. Armande
to the Count. "I have sold my connection. I have been working for a very
long time now, and am thinking of retiring. By noon to-morrow I shall
have a hundred thousand francs; many things can be settled with that.
Mademoiselle, you are tired," he added; "go back to the carriage and go
home and sleep. Business to-morrow."

"Is he safe?" returned she, looking at Victurnien.

"Yes."

She kissed her nephew; a few tears fell on his forehead. Then she went.

"My good Chesnel," said the Count, when they began to talk of business,
"what are your hundred thousand francs in such a position as mine? You
do not know the full extent of my troubles, I think."

Victurnien explained the situation. Chesnel was thunderstruck. But for
the strength of his devotion, he would have succumbed to this blow.
Tears streamed from the eyes that might well have had no tears left to
shed. For a few moments he was a child again, for a few moments he was
bereft of his senses; he stood like a man who should find his own house
on fire, and through a window see the cradle ablaze and hear the hiss
of the flames on his children's curls. He rose to his full height--il se
dressa en pied, as Amyot would have said; he seemed to grow taller; he
raised his withered hands and wru