a life of enforced charity
would be to him one of never ending torment. Now I must revenge my
infant child, delivered up by him to want and misery! I have to wash out
the stain of my daughter's infamy, caused by his diabolical villainy and
cupidity; and his blood alone will serve to wipe out that foul wrong!
Yes, he dies--and by my hand!" And, with these words, the prince sprang
forward to the door.

"Whither are you going?" cried Sarah, extending her supplicating hands
towards Rodolph. "Oh, leave me not to die alone--"

"Alone? Oh, no! Fear not to die alone! The spectre of the innocent
child, doomed by you to an early grave, will bear you company."

Exhausted and alarmed, Sarah uttered a scream, as though she really
beheld the phantom of her child, exclaiming, "Forgive me! I am dying!"

"Die then, accursed woman!" shouted Rodolph, wild with fury. "Now I must
have the life of your accomplice, for it was you who delivered your
child to this monster!"

And hastening from the apartment, Rodolph ordered himself to be rapidly
driven to the residence of Jacques Ferrand.

CHAPTER III.

LOVE'S FRENZY.

It was nightfall when Rodolph went to the notary's. The pavilion
occupied by Jacques Ferrand was plunged in the deepest obscurity; the
wind roared and the rain fell as it did on the terrible night when
Cecily, before she quitted the notary's abode for ever, had excited the
passions of that man to frenzy. Extended on his bed, feebly lighted up
by a lamp, Jacques Ferrand was dressed in a black coat and waistcoat.
One of the sleeves of his shirt was tucked up and spotted with blood; a
ligature of red cloth, which was to be seen on his nervous arm,
announced that he had been bled by Polidori, who, standing near his bed,
leaned one hand on the couch, and seemed to watch his accomplice's
features with uneasiness. Nothing could be more frightfully hideous than
was Jacques Ferrand, whilst plunged in that somnolent torpor which
usually succeeds violent crises. Of an ashy paleness, his face was
bedewed with a cold sweat, and his closed eyelids were so swollen, so
injected with blood, that they appeared like two red balls in the centre
of his cadaverous countenance.

"Another such an attack and he is a dead man!" exclaimed Polidori, in a
low voice. "All the writers on this subject have agreed that all who are
attacked by this strange and frightful malady usually sink under it on
the seventh day, and it is now six days sin