designs of Nicholas against Fleur-de-Marie, and
afterwards against the jewel-matcher, might be thwarted by Martial's
presence.

The widow had hoped to effect an immediate separation between herself
and Martial, either by keeping up and aiding Nicholas's quarrel, or by
disclosing to him that, if he obstinately persisted in remaining in the
island, he ran the risk of being suspected as an accomplice in many
crimes.

As cunning as she was penetrating, the widow, perceiving that she had
failed, saw that she must have recourse to treachery to entrap her son
in her bloody snare, and she therefore replied, after a lengthened
pause, with assumed bitterness:

"I see your plan. You will not inform against us yourself, but you will
contrive that the children shall do so."

"I?"

"They know now that there is a man buried here; they know that Nicholas
has robbed. Once apprenticed they would talk, we should be apprehended,
and we should all suffer,--you with us. That is what would happen if I
listened to you, and allowed you to place the children elsewhere. Yet
you say you do not wish us any harm? I do not ask you to love me; but do
not hasten the hour of our apprehension!"

The milder tone of the widow made Martial believe that his threats had
produced a salutary effect on her, and he fell into the fearful snare.

"I know the children," he replied; "and I am sure that, in desiring them
to say nothing, not a word will they say. Besides, in one way or
another, I shall be always with them, and I will answer for their
silence."

"Can we answer for the chatter of children, especially in Paris, where
people are so curious and so gossiping? It is as much that they should
not betray us, as that they should assist us in our plans, that I desire
to keep them here."

"Don't they go sometimes to the villages, and even to Paris? Who could
prevent them from talking if they were inclined to talk? If they were a
long way off, why, so much the better; for what they would then say
would do us no harm."

"A long way off,--and where?" inquired the widow, looking steadfastly at
her son.

"Let me take them away,--where is no consequence to you."

"How will you and they live?"

"My old master, the locksmith, is a worthy man, and I will tell him as
much as he need know, and, perhaps, he will lend me something for the
sake of the children; with that I will go and apprentice them a long way
off. We will leave in two days, and you will hear