he last few hours. He felt himself elevated to the dignity of
chastisement.

The two antagonists stood on guard. There was a moment of profound
silence. In a mural painting on the walls of a German cathedral, two men
stand like this, and a little distance off, half hidden behind a tree,
is the figure of Death.

Esperance was perfectly cool, but Benedetto saw after two or three
passes that he had no boy antagonist. Calling together all his resources
he made a lunge. His antagonist returned it, and grazed Benedetto's
breast.

At this moment Jane revived. "Courage, Esperance, courage!" she
murmured.

The young man heard her voice, and the contest was renewed. Ten times
did the sword of Esperance menace the heart of Benedetto, ten times did
the scoundrel escape death. But he began to feel afraid. The sword of
the son of Monte-Cristo flashed and gleamed before his eyes like the
fiery sword of the Bible. Esperance was gaining the advantage, and a cry
of rage escaped the panting breast of Benedetto. Was it possible that
after all, his vengeance was about to slip through his fingers? And was
he to die instead of Monte-Cristo's son! He recoiled further and
further, feeling that the sword of his opponent would pin him to the
wall.

Monte-Cristo's son said to him, "Scoundrel! your life is in my power.
Repent of the evil you have done, and I will show you mercy."

"Mercy!" sneered Benedetto. "You talk of mercy. Take care, I hate you! I
hate your father. Hasten to take my life or I swear that I will take
yours!"

"Die then!" cried Esperance.

And with a rapid movement of his sword he disarmed his adversary; his
blade was about to enter Benedetto's breast when the report of a pistol
was heard, and Esperance, shot through the heart, fell by Jane's side.
She threw herself on his body with cries of despair. Benedetto, with an
infernal smile, turned away with a pistol in his hand.

It will be remembered that Esperance in his righteous anger had aimed
his pistols at Benedetto, but the thought of a murder in this upright
soul was but a passing one, and when he drew his sword he laid down his
pistols upon a chair near him.

At the moment when Benedetto felt that all was lost his eyes fell an the
arms, and an infernal thought struck him. He gradually approached the
chair, and finally, with a sudden movement, snatched one of the
revolvers. The scoundrel had murdered his adversary. Esperance fell and
Jane encircled him with her a