d by
Harloy de Chauvalon, Archbishop of Paris, and by Pierre Arnaud
d'Andilly, Advocate of the Parliament, appeared, stating that a
repentant sinner had, under seal of confession, made over to the Church
a valuable stolen treasure of gold and jewels. All those who, up to
about the end of the year 1680, had been robbed of property of this
description, particularly if by murderous attack in the street, were
directed to apply to d'Andilly, when they would receive it back,
provided that anything in the said collection agreed with the
description to be by them given, and providing that there was no doubt
of the genuineness of the application. Many whose names occurred in
Cardillac's list as having been merely stunned, not murdered, came from
time to time to d'Andilly to reclaim their property, and received it
back, to their no small surprise. The remainder became the property of
the Church of St. Eustache."

Sylvester's tale was received by the Brethren with their full approval.
It was held to be truly Serapiontic, because, whilst founded on
historical fact, it yet soared into the region of the imaginative.

Lothair said: "Our Sylvester has got very well out of a somewhat risky
undertaking, for that, I consider, was the representing of a literary
old maid who kept a sort of _bureau d'esprit_ in the Rue St. Honore,
which he lets us have a peep into. Our own authoresses (and if they
chance to be advanced in years, I hope they may all be genial, kind,
and dignified as the old lady in the black dress) would be much
delighted with you, my Sylvester, if they heard your story, and forgive
you your somewhat gruesome and terrible Cardillac, whom, I suppose, you
have altogether to thank your own imagination for."

"At the same time," said Ottmar, "I remember having read, somewhere or
other, of an old shoemaker in Venice, whom the whole town looked upon
as a good, exemplary, industrious man, though he really was the most
atrocious robber and murderer. Just like Cardillac, he used to slip out
in the night-time and get into the palazzi of the great, where, in the
depths of darkness, his surely-dealt dagger-thrust pierced the hearts
of those whom he wanted to rob, so that they dropped down on the spot
without a cry. Every effort of the most clever and observant police to
detect this murderer, who kept all Venice in terror, was useless, until
a circumstance led to the shoemaker's being suspected. He fell sick,
and, strange to say, as