ped and long-pointed knife, whose
temper he well knew, and which was never absent from him. About seven in
the morning Andrea was awakened by a ray of sunlight, which played,
warm and brilliant, upon his face. In all well-organized brains, the
predominating idea--and there always is one--is sure to be the last
thought before sleeping, and the first upon waking in the morning.
Andrea had scarcely opened his eyes when his predominating idea
presented itself, and whispered in his ear that he had slept too long.
He jumped out of bed and ran to the window. A gendarme was crossing the
court. A gendarme is one of the most striking objects in the world, even
to a man void of uneasiness; but for one who has a timid conscience, and
with good cause too, the yellow, blue, and white uniform is really very
alarming.

"Why is that gendarme there?" asked Andrea of himself. Then, all at
once, he replied, with that logic which the reader has, doubtless,
remarked in him, "There is nothing astonishing in seeing a gendarme at
an inn; instead of being astonished, let me dress myself." And the youth
dressed himself with a facility his valet de chambre had failed to rob
him of during the two months of fashionable life he had led in Paris.
"Now then," said Andrea, while dressing himself, "I'll wait till he
leaves, and then I'll slip away." And, saying this, Andrea, who had now
put on his boots and cravat, stole gently to the window, and a second
time lifted up the muslin curtain. Not only was the first gendarme still
there, but the young man now perceived a second yellow, blue, and white
uniform at the foot of the staircase, the only one by which he could
descend, while a third, on horseback, holding a musket in his fist, was
posted as a sentinel at the great street door which alone afforded the
means of egress.

The appearance of the third gendarme settled the matter, for a crowd
of curious loungers was extended before him, effectually blocking the
entrance to the hotel. "They're after me!" was Andrea's first thought.
"The devil!" A pallor overspread the young man's forehead, and he looked
around him with anxiety. His room, like all those on the same floor, had
but one outlet to the gallery in the sight of everybody. "I am lost!"
was his second thought; and, indeed, for a man in Andrea's situation,
an arrest meant the assizes, trial, and death,--death without mercy or
delay. For a moment he convulsively pressed his head within his hands,
and