tesse de Talizac. Her husband, Jean de Talizac, is the
son of the Marquis de Fongereues. Suddenly the old man said:

"Where is Jean?"

Magdalena started, as if this voice, breaking the silence of the room,
had startled her.

"He has been away since morning," she replied, in a voice that she
endeavored to render careless.

"Ah!" said the Marquis, relapsing into silence. Presently he inquired
what time it was.

"Let me see--I wish to tell him," cried the child, leaving his mother's
side and running across the room to a console table, on which stood an
elaborate clock.

Frederic, the son of the Vicomte de Talizac, is deformed. One shoulder
is higher than the other, and he limps, but he seems alert.

"It is seven o'clock," he said, in a sharp voice.

The door was thrown open at this moment, and a German officer appeared.
Madame Fongereues rose hastily.

"And what is the decision, Monsieur de Karlstein?" she asked.

The officer bowed low to each of the three persons in the room, and then
said, quietly:

"To-morrow the allied armies will cross the French frontier."

"At last!" exclaimed Madame de Fongereues, and Madame de Talizac uttered
a cry of joy. The Marquis was unmoved.

"The details--give us the details!" said the young Marquise.

"We shall reach France through Switzerland," said the German, "and
penetrate the heart of the empire. Lord Castlereagh approves of this
plan and the Emperor Alexander gives it favorable consideration."

"And in a month the king will be at the Tuileries!" said Madame de
Talizac.

The German did not notice this remark.

"And now, ladies, will you kindly permit me to retire? In two hours I
leave with my company."

Madame de Fongereues extended her hand to him.

"Go, sir," she said. "Go aid in this sacred work! Insolent France must
learn that the most sacred rights cannot be trodden under foot with
impunity. Let the chastisement be as terrible as has been the crime!"

Monsieur de Karlstein bowed low and went out.

"At last!" repeated the Marquise. "These French have insulted and
despised us too long! Twenty-five years of exile! It is twenty-five
years since my father the Comte de Maillezais took me in his arms and,
pointing toward Paris, said, 'Child! remember that the day will come
when these men will kill their king, as they have forced your father to
fly for his life.' Monsieur Fongereues, do you hear? Are you not glad to
return as master among these men who drove yo