she is still alive, though lost, this action will be useful to me in
giving a wide circulation to the affair. A mother who claims her child
is always interesting; and I should have with me those who envy
you,--your enemies, and every sensitive and romantic mind."

"This is as mad as it is malevolent! What motive could I have in making
your daughter pass for dead, if she were not really defunct?"

"That is true enough, and the motive may be difficult to find; but,
then, have we not the attorneys and barristers at our elbows? Now I
think of it (excellent idea!), desirous of sharing with your client the
sum sunk in the annuity on this unfortunate child, you caused her
disappearance."

The unabashed notary shrugged his shoulders.

"If I had been criminal enough for that, instead of causing its
disappearance, I should have killed it!"

Sarah started with surprise, remained silent for a moment, and then
said, with bitterness:

"For a pious man, this is an idea of crime deeply reflective! Can I by
chance, then, have hit the mark when I fired at random? I must think of
this,--and think I will. One other word. You see the sort of woman I am:
I crush without remorse all obstacles that lie in my onward path.
Reflect well, then, for to-morrow this must be decided on. You may do
what I ask you with impunity. In his joy, the father of my daughter will
not think of doubting the possibility of his child's restoration, if our
falsehoods, which will make him happy, are adroitly combined. Besides,
he has no other proofs of the death of our daughter than those I wrote
to him of fourteen years ago, and I could easily persuade him that I had
deceived him on this subject; for then I had real causes of complaint
against him. I will tell him that in my grief I was desirous of breaking
every existing tie that bound us to each other. You cannot, therefore,
be compromised in any way. Affirm only, irreproachable man. Affirm that
all was in former days concerted between us,--you and me and Madame
Seraphin,--and you will be credited. As to the fifteen thousand francs
sunk in an annuity for my child, that is my affair solely. They will
remain acquired by your client, who must be kept profoundly ignorant of
this; and, moreover, you shall yourself name your own recompense."

Jacques Ferrand maintained all his _sang-froid_ in spite of the
singularity of his situation, remarkable and dangerous as it was. The
countess, really believing in the death