they are asleep.'--Then I asked him what was the cause of his agitation,
and if, in spite of my precautions, he had received any more anonymous
letters. 'No,' replied he, with a gloomy air; 'but leave me, my friend. I
am now better. It has done me good to see you. Good--night, old comrade!
go downstairs to bed.'--I took care not to contradict him; but,
pretending to go down, I came up again, and seated myself on the top
stair, listening. No doubt, to calm himself entirely, the marshal went to
embrace his children, for I heard him open and shut their door. Then he
returned to his room, and walked about for a long time, but with a more
quiet step. At last, I heard him throw himself on his bed, and I came
down about break of day. After that, all remained tranquil."

"But whatever can be the matter with him, father?"

"I do not know. When I went up to him, I was astonished at the agitation
of his countenance, and the brilliancy of his eyes. He would have looked
much the same, had he been delirious, or in a burning fever--so that,
when I heard him say, he could have thrown himself out of the window, had
it been open, I thought it more prudent to remove the caps from his
pistols."

"I cannot understand it!" said Agricola. "So firm, intrepid, and cool a
man as the marshal, a prey to such violence!"

"I tell you that something very extraordinary is passing within him. For
two days, he has not been to see his children, which is always a bad sign
with him--to say nothing of the poor little angels themselves, who are
miserable at the notion that they have displeased their father. They
displease him! If you only knew the life they lead, dear creatures! a
walk or ride with me and their companion, for I never let them go out
alone, and, the rest of their time, at their studies, reading, or
needlework--always together--and then to bed. Yet their duenna, who is, I
think, a worthy woman, tells me that sometimes at night, she has seen
them shed tears in their sleep. Poor children! they have hitherto known
but little happiness," added the soldier, with a sigh.

At this moment, hearing some one walk hastily across the courtyard,
Dagobert raised his eyes, and saw Marshal Simon, with pale face and
bewildered air, holding in his two hands a letter, which he seemed to
read with devouring anxiety.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE GOLDEN CITY.

While Marshal Simon was crossing the little court with so agitated an
air, reading the anonymous l