of conquest, or
the desire to jeer at a suitor's earnestness. Ah, what a revelation had
been made to him now! And what would he not have given to have wiped out
the past! He advanced towards her with outstretched arms.

"Marie!" said he, "Marie!"

"I forbid you to call me Marie!" shrieked she wildly.

He made no reply, but still advanced towards her, when, with a terrible
cry, she recoiled from him.

"Blood!" she screamed, "ah, heavens! he has blood upon his hands!"

Norbert glanced downwards; upon the wristband of his shirt there was a
tell-tale crimson stain.

The Duchess raised her hand, and pointed towards the door.

"Leave me," said she, with an extraordinary assumption of energy, "leave
me; the secret of your crime is safe; I will not betray you or hand you
over to justice. But remember that a murdered man stands between us, and
that I loathe and execrate you."

Rage and jealousy tortured Norbert's soul. Though George de Croisenois
was no more, he was still his successful rival in Marie's love.

"You forget," said he in a voice hoarse with passion, "that you are
mine, and that, as your husband, I can make your existence one long
scene of agony and misery. Keep this fact in your memory. To-morrow, at
six o'clock, I shall be here."

The clock was striking two as he left the house and hastened to the spot
where he had left his horse.

The soldier was still pacing backwards and forwards, leading the Duke's
horse.

"My faith!" said the man, as soon as he perceived Norbert, "you pay
precious long visits. I had only leave to go to the theatre, and I shall
get into trouble over this."

"Pshaw! I promised you twenty francs. Here are two louis."

The soldier pocketed the money with an air of delighted surprise, and
Norbert sprang into the saddle.

An hour later he gave the appointed signal upon the window pane, behind
which the trusty Jean was waiting.

"Take care that no one sees you as you take the horse to the stable,"
said the Duke hastily, "and then come to me, for I want your assistance
and advice."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE HEIR OF CHAMPDOCE.

As long as she was in Norbert's presence, anger and indignation gave
the Duchess de Champdoce strength; but as soon as she was left alone her
energy gave way, and with an outburst of tears she sank, half fainting,
upon a couch. Her despair was augmented from the fact that she felt that
had it not been for her, George de Croisenois would never have met wi