dence:

"If you will serve me as the devil must be served, I will rid you of
Durut."

Durut was the convict; the Damocles' sword hung over Prudence Servien's
head.

But for these details, many critics would have thought Europe's
attachment somewhat grotesque. And no one could have understood the
startling announcement that Carlos had ready.

"Yes, my girl, you can go back to Valenciennes. Here, read this."

And he held out to her yesterday's paper, pointing to this paragraph:

"TOULON--Yesterday, Jean Francois Durut was executed here. Early
in the morning the garrison," etc.

Prudence dropped the paper; her legs gave way under the weight of her
body; she lived again; for, to use her own words, she never liked the
taste of her food since the day when Durut had threatened her.

"You see, I have kept my word. It has taken four years to bring Durut to
the scaffold by leading him into a snare.--Well, finish my job here, and
you will find yourself at the head of a little country business in your
native town, with twenty thousand francs of your own as Paccard's wife,
and I will allow him to be virtuous as a form of pension."

Europe picked up the paper and read with greedy eyes all the details, of
which for twenty years the papers have never been tired, as to the death
of convicted criminals: the impressive scene, the chaplain--who has
always converted the victim--the hardened criminal preaching to his
fellow convicts, the battery of guns, the convicts on their knees; and
then the twaddle and reflections which never lead to any change in the
management of the prisons where eighteen hundred crimes are herded.

"We must place Asie on the staff once more," said Carlos.

Asie came forward, not understanding Europe's pantomime.

"In bringing her back here as cook, you must begin by giving the Baron
such a dinner as he never ate in his life," he went on. "Tell him that
Asie has lost all her money at play, and has taken service once more. We
shall not need an outdoor servant. Paccard shall be coachman. Coachmen
do not leave their box, where they are safe out of the way; and he will
run less risk from spies. Madame must turn him out in a powdered wig and
a braided felt cocked hat; that will alter his appearance. Besides, I
will make him us."

"Are we going to have men-servants in the house?" asked Asie with a
leer.

"All honest folks," said Carlos.

"All soft-heads," retorted the mulatto.

"If the Baron takes a