indow into the
garden. You will then leave the house as you entered it, and as soon as
you are outside, you must take the chest and carry it to your home. The
night is very dark, and no one will see you, if you are careful. But
make haste; my strength is nearly gone.'

"The chest was heavy, but I was very strong.

"In less than ten minutes the task of removing the chest from the
chateau was accomplished, without a single sound that would betray us.
As I closed the window, I said:

"'It is done, godmother.'

"'God be praised!' she whispered; 'Sairmeuse is saved!'

"I heard a deep sigh. I turned; she was dead."

This scene that M. Lacheneur was relating rose vividly before him.

To feign, to disguise the truth, or to conceal any portion of it was an
impossibility.

He forgot himself and his daughter; he thought only of the dead woman,
of Mlle. Armande de Sairmeuse.

And he shuddered on pronouncing the words: "She was dead." It seemed to
him that she was about to speak, and to insist upon the fulfilment of
his pledge.

After a moment's silence, he resumed, in a hollow voice:

"I called for aid; it came. Mademoiselle Armande was adored by everyone;
there was great lamentation, and a half hour of indescribable confusion
followed her death. I was able to withdraw, unnoticed, to run into
the garden, and to carry away the oaken chest. An hour later, it was
concealed in the miserable hovel in which I dwelt. The following year I
purchased Sairmeuse."

He had confessed all; and he paused, trembling, trying to read his
sentence in the eyes of his daughter.

"And can you hesitate?" she demanded.

"Ah! you do not know----"

"I know that Sairmeuse must be given up."

This was the decree of his own conscience, that faint voice which speaks
only in a whisper, but which all the tumult on earth cannot overpower.

"No one saw me take away the chest," he faltered. "If anyone suspected
it, there is not a single proof against me. But no one does suspect it."

Marie-Anne rose, her eyes flashed with generous indignation.

"My father!" she exclaimed; "oh! my father!"

Then, in a calmer tone, she added:

"If others know nothing of this, can _you_ forget it?"

M. Lacheneur appeared almost ready to succumb to the torture of the
terrible conflict raging in his soul.

"Return!" he exclaimed. "What shall I return? That which I have
received? So be it. I consent. I will give the duke the eighty thousand
francs; to this amo