e ladies, the fair one, uttered those terrible shrieks which
resounded through the house, while the other, rushing to the bell-rope,
rang with all her strength. Andrea, as we can see, was surrounded by
misfortune.

"For pity's sake," he cried, pale and bewildered, without seeing whom
he was addressing,--"for pity's sake do not call assistance! Save me!--I
will not harm you."

"Andrea, the murderer!" cried one of the ladies.

"Eugenie! Mademoiselle Danglars!" exclaimed Andrea, stupefied.

"Help, help!" cried Mademoiselle d'Armilly, taking the bell from her
companion's hand, and ringing it yet more violently. "Save me, I am
pursued!" said Andrea, clasping his hands. "For pity, for mercy's sake
do not deliver me up!"

"It is too late, they are coming," said Eugenie.

"Well, conceal me somewhere; you can say you were needlessly alarmed;
you can turn their suspicions and save my life!"

The two ladies, pressing closely to one another, and drawing the
bedclothes tightly around them, remained silent to this supplicating
voice, repugnance and fear taking possession of their minds.

"Well, be it so," at length said Eugenie; "return by the same road you
came, and we will say nothing about you, unhappy wretch."

"Here he is, here he is!" cried a voice from the landing; "here he is!
I see him!" The brigadier had put his eye to the keyhole, and had
discovered Andrea in a posture of entreaty. A violent blow from the butt
end of the musket burst open the lock, two more forced out the bolts,
and the broken door fell in. Andrea ran to the other door, leading to
the gallery, ready to rush out; but he was stopped short, and he stood
with his body a little thrown back, pale, and with the useless knife in
his clinched hand.

"Fly, then!" cried Mademoiselle d'Armilly, whose pity returned as her
fears diminished; "fly!"

"Or kill yourself!" said Eugenie (in a tone which a Vestal in the
amphitheatre would have used, when urging the victorious gladiator to
finish his vanquished adversary). Andrea shuddered, and looked on the
young girl with an expression which proved how little he understood such
ferocious honor. "Kill myself?" he cried, throwing down his knife; "why
should I do so?"

"Why, you said," answered Mademoiselle Danglars, "that you would be
condemned to die like the worst criminals."

"Bah," said Cavalcanti, crossing his arms, "one has friends."

The brigadier advanced to him, sword in hand. "Come, come," said Andrea