THE INTERVIEW.

In order to explain the confidence of the Gascon, we must say that, having heard Mirette address him as master, he was fully persuaded that Blue Beard was on her guard, and that Monmouth was securely hidden. In spite of what the mulattress said, he was convinced, with reason, that Father Griffen had informed Angela that her supposed husband would come to see her. The situation was so grave that the priest, knowing all the mysteries of Devil's Cliff, could not but have insisted on warning Blue Beard of the fresh peril which menaced her.

If Mirette had stated that Father Griffen had not seen Blue Beard, it was because it was in accord with her wishes that it should appear that he had not communicated with the inhabitants of Devil's Cliff.

This explains at once what will seem contradictory in Croustillac's conduct, and will answer the question "if he wished to take advantage of the name he had assumed, to carry off Blue Beard, why had he warned Father Griffen of his intention?"

Croustillac, having warned De Chemerant to be silent, advanced on tiptoe, to the half-drawn portière, and looked into the room, for the peals of laughter still continued. He had scarcely cast a glance into the room when he quickly turned toward De Chemerant; and with a distorted face and outraged manner said, "See and listen, sir! this is the reward of surprises. I had a presentiment when I sent Father Griffen here. By heavens! prudent husbands should be preceded by an escort of cymbals to announce their return!"

In spite of these ironical words, the features of Croustillac were convulsed; his whole physiognomy expressed a singular mixture of sorrow, anger and hatred.

Rapidly glancing into the room, De Chemerant, in spite of his assurance, lowered his eyes, colored, and for some moments remained perfectly overwhelmed with confusion.

Let one judge of the spectacle which caused the confusion of De Chemerant, and the rage, not feigned but sincere, even cruel, of Croustillac, who, as we have said, passionately loved Blue Beard, devoted himself generously for her, and was not in the secret of the prince's different disguises.

Monmouth, in the disguise of the mulatto filibuster, Whirlwind, was negligently extended on a sofa; he was smoking a long pipe, the bowl of which rested on a low stand.

Angela, kneeling beside the latter, quickened the flame of the pipe with a long golden pin.

"Good! that is all right," said Monmouth, whom we will call Whirlwind, during this scene. "My pipe is lighted, now for something to drink."

Angela placed on a table a large Bohemian glass and a crystal carafe, and, going over to the divan, while the filibuster puffed several mouthfuls of tobacco, poured out a brimming glass of Muscatel wine and handed it to him with a charmingly graceful air.

The filibuster emptied it at a single draught, after which he kissed her roughly, saying, "Wine is good, and the woman is pretty; to the devil with the husband!"

Hearing these very significant words, De Chemerant wished to retire. Croustillac took hold of him and said, in a low tone, "Remain, sir, remain, I desire to surprise, to confound them, the miserable wretches!"

The face of Croustillac clouded more and more. The warning which he had given in begging Father Griffen to go and prepare Blue Beard that he was about to seek her, concealed a very praiseworthy and generous purpose, which we will explain later.

The sight of the filibuster exciting the adventurer's jealousy into rage quickly changed his good intentions. He could not understand the audacity of this young woman. He could not be blind to the evidence of these familiarities on the part of the mulatto whom he had not yet seen. He remembered those, no less shocking, of the Caribbean and the buccaneer. He believed himself to be the dupe of a frightfully depraved creature; he believed that Monmouth, her husband, no longer existed or no longer lived at Devil's Cliff; and if Angela had co-operated with himself (Croustillac) in his strategy, it was in order to rid herself of an awkward witness.

Furious at being thus deceived and played with, deeply wounded in a true love, Croustillac resolved to avenge himself without pity, and, this time, to really abuse the power his assumed name and the situation which he assumed with such honorable motives had given him. He said to De Chemerant, in a stifled voice, but with an expression of concentrated wrath, which entered admirably into the spirit of his rôle, "Not a word, sir; I wish to hear all, because I wish to punish both without mercy."

"But, your highness——"

An imperious gesture from Croustillac closed De Chemerant's mouth; both of them gave an attentive ear to the conversation of Angela, and the filibuster, who, we must say, knew perfectly that they were overheard.

"At last, my beautiful child," said Whirlwind, "you are free for a time at least."

"If not forever," said Blue Beard, smiling.

"Forever? what do you mean, you little demon," returned the filibuster.

Angela arose and seated herself near the mulatto. While talking to him she passed her hand through his hair with a cajoling coquetry which put the unhappy Croustillac beside himself.

"Your highness, one word, and my men shall rid you of this scoundrel," said De Chemerant, in an undertone, in pity for the Gascon.

"I shall know well how to avenge myself," said the adventurer sullenly, who no longer desired to prolong the scene; and so, turning to De Chemerant, continued, "Sir, leave me alone with these two wretches."

"But, your highness, this man appears strong and robust."

"Be easy, I will give a good account of him."

"If you will listen to me, your highness, we will leave at once; you will abandon to her remorse, a woman so unhappy as to thus forget her duty."

"Leave her? No, my heavens! Willingly or otherwise, she shall follow me—that will be my revenge."

"If your highness will permit me a remark: After a disclosure so scandalous, the sight of the duchess can only be forever odious to you. Let us go; forget such a guilty spouse; glory shall console you."

"Sir, I desire to speak to my wife," said Croustillac impatiently.

"But, your highness, this miserable——"

"Once more, am I a man without courage and without force, that such a rascal should intimidate me? Some domestic scenes must be secret. Will you await me in the next room? In a quarter of an hour I will be with you."

Croustillac said these words with an intonation so imperious, and with such an agonized manner, that De Chemerant bowed without persisting further. He went into a room the door of which the chevalier had opened, and which he immediately closed upon him.

Crossing the drawing room with quick steps, the adventurer entered suddenly into the room where the mulatto and Blue Beard were.

"Madame," said the Gascon with sorrowful indignation, "your conduct is abominable."

The mulatto, who was extended on the divan, arose quickly; he was about to speak; Angela with a glance begged him to do nothing. As much as Monmouth had generously desired to prevent the sacrifice of the chevalier when he believed this sacrifice disinterested, he was as much resolved not to make himself known when he believed the adventurer capable of an unworthy betrayal.

"Sir," said Angela coldly, to the Gascon, "the French emissary may still overhear us; let us go into another room."

She opened the door of Monmouth's own room, and entered, followed by the filibuster and Croustillac. The door once closed, the adventurer cried: "I repeat that you have shamefully abused my trust in you."

"I demand an explanation of your disloyal conduct," said Angela proudly. "Explain yourself at once."

During this scene, Monmouth, gravely preoccupied, walked up and down the room with his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the carpet.

"You desire that I explain myself, madame? Oh, that will not take long! First know that, right or wrong, I love you," cried Croustillac, in a burst of tenderness and anger.

"That is to say, that you have boasted to your fellow-travelers that you would marry the rich widow of Devil's Cliff?"

"So be it, madame; on board the Unicorn my language was impertinent, my pretensions absurd, madame; covetous, I admit. But when I spoke thus, when I thought thus, I had not seen you."

"The sight of me, sir, has not inspired you with ideas much more honorable," said Angela severely, still convinced that Croustillac wished to cruelly abuse the position in which he found himself.

"Hear me, madame; I love you truly; that is to say, that I was capable of anything to prove to you my love, absurd and stupid as it appears to you. Yes, I loved you, because my heart told me I did well to love you; because I felt myself better for loving you. You may laugh at this love; I was sufficiently repaid by the happiness it gave me. When you have said, 'Sir, I mock at you, I use you for a plaything, you are a poor devil, I have bestowed charity upon you, and you should be content therewith—— '"

"Sir!"

"When you have said all this, do not think that I was humiliated. No, that hurt me, hurt me much, but I quickly forgot this injury, when I saw that you understood that, poor as I am, I could be touched by something else than money. Then you said to me some kind words, you called me your friend—your friend! After this I would have thrown myself into the fire for you, and that for the sole pleasure of throwing myself into it, for I had nothing more to hope for from you; the time of my folly is past; I see too clearly into my heart not to recognize that I was a kind of mendicant buffoon; I can never have anything in common with a woman as beautiful and as young as you. My only ambition—and this can offend no one—would have been to devote myself to you. But how to have such happiness? I, a vagabond, with nothing but my old sword, my old hat, and my pink hose! Ah! well, by a chance which I at first blessed, Colonel Rutler to-night mistook me for him they call your husband; this mistake might be useful to you. Judge of my joy—I could save the man whom you so passionately loved. I should have preferred to save something else, but I had no time to choose. I risked all, including the everlasting dagger of the colonel. I augmented, by every means possible, his double mistake. You came to my assistance; that is, you buried me in the mud up to the neck, by means of the bagatelles with which you loaded me. It is all the same—I go with all my heart; I am satisfied to do so, and I leave this house without hope of ever seeing you again, with the gallows or prison in prospect, not to count the everlasting dagger of the Dutchman. Ah, well, in spite of all, I repeat, I was content: I said to myself, I know not what awaits me, rope or dungeon; but I am sure Blue Beard will say, 'It is fortunate, very fortunate for us at least, that this eccentric Gascon came here. Poor devil! what has happened to him?' There! that was my ambition. But I did not ask even a regret, a memory—a memory," said the Gascon, moved in spite of himself.

"Sir," said Angela, "as long as I believed you really generous, my gratitude did not fail you."

These words increased the Gascon's wrath; he exclaimed, "Your gratitude, madame! Zounds! it is beautiful. But to proceed. We started from this place with the Belgian. In descending the hill we met the French emissary. Rutler at once believed himself betrayed, and made a furious lunge at me with his everlasting dagger. These are the fruits of devotion. If the blade had not broken, I should have been killed. Nothing is simpler; when one sacrifices oneself for others, it is hardly with the expectation of being crowned with roses, or caressed by nymphs of the woods. Well, the dagger broke; one of the men throttled Rutler; I found myself face to face with the French emissary. I did not lose my head. It was a matter touching you and the unhappy exile whom you loved passionately. I would rather it had been your father or your uncle, but I had no choice. Beside, the idea of being useful to two young and interesting people threw my egotism into the background. The greater the complications the more my pride incited me to save you. I redoubled my audacity and coolness. The great but honest falsehoods I have uttered for you should absolve me from those which I have spoken for an unworthy cause. The good God took up the cause; I was inspired to the greatest falsehoods you can imagine; they were swallowed up as eagerly by the French envoy as if it had been manna from on high. I played my rôle with all my might. Monsieur De Chemerant told me in two words the object of his mission; an insurrection favored by the King of France was on foot in England; if the Duke of Monmouth were to put himself at the head of the affair its success was assured."

Monmouth made a movement and stealthily exchanged glances with Angela.

The Gascon continued: "When I was on the way to an English prison with the Belgian and his everlasting dagger I did not breathe a word. I was well protected from any wish to return here. But when De Chemerant confided to me a thing of possible advantage to the prince, I had no right to refuse it for him. I therefore accepted in his name all manner of viceroyalties. But, if he really desired to take part in this uprising, how was I to let him know? Monsieur De Chemerant desired to set sail at once. By what means could I return here with the envoy of France without exposing the duke, who was ignorant of my last adventure and believed me still to be the Belgian's prisoner, thinking, doubtless, that he was secure here? An idea seized me. I said to De Chemerant, 'Things have changed their aspect; I desire to take my wife with me. Come, let us return to Devil's Cliff.' Faith, it was the only way in which I could manage an interview with you, madame—of warning the prince of this proposal. If he accepted it, I would throw off the prince; if he refused, I would refuse as before, and he would be saved."

"How, sir!" cried Angela. "Such was your generous intention? You would——"

"Oh, wait, madame, wait; do not think me either more stupid or more generous than I am," said the Gascon bitterly. "I begged Father Griffen to come and prepare you, madame, that I desired to take you with me. Chemerant heard me; I could say no more to the priest, but this sufficed. One of two things would result: either you would understand the situation or you would believe me guilty of infamous intentions; in either case, you would be on your guard, and the prince saved; for it was my fixed idea——"

"So, sir," cried Angela, looking at him with mingled surprise and gratitude, "you did not really intend to abuse——"

The Gascon interrupted her shortly. "No, madame, no. I had then no such wicked intentions, though certain particulars of your life appear to me inexplicable. I believed you sincerely attached to an unhappy prince, and at any cost I would have saved the duke."

"Ah! sir, how I have misjudged you? You are the most generous of men," cried Angela.

The adventurer burst into a sardonic laugh, which stupefied the young woman; then he continued with a somber air:

"Thank God, my eyes have been opened. I see now that generosity would be stupid, devotion foolish. I shall profit by this lesson. Polyphème de Croustillac rarely revenges himself, but when he does, he revenges himself well; above all, when the vengeance is as charming as that which awaits him."

"You would be revenged, sir," said Angela, "and on whom?"

"On whom, madame? You have the audacity to ask me that?"

"Why, certainly, what have I done; why this hatred?"

The adventurer stamped his foot so violently that the mulatto made a step toward him; but Croustillac curbed himself and said to Angela shortly, and with ironical bitterness, "Listen to me, madame. It seems to me, that without being possessed of colossal pride, I deserved something, when for you I threw myself into the midst of the most dangerous situations. It seems to me, madame," continued the Gascon, who could not contain his indignation, which increased in measure as he spoke, "It seems to me that it was not at the moment when, at the risk of my life, I was doing all I could to save the husband whom you love so passionately, as they say, that it was not at such a time that you should forget all modesty——"

"Sir!"

"Yes, madame, forget all modesty, all shame, by throwing yourself into the arms of this miserable mulatto, and go to the depth of lighting his pipe. Truly, I was very stupid," continued the Gascon with an increase of rage. "In my devotion to you I risked my skin for the husband of madame! while madame, outrageously mocking her husband and me, abandoned herself to orgies with a lot of scamps. I am beside myself! My mother's son does not merit having been born in my country and having played all manner of pranks, as they say, in the capital of the world, if he cannot find something, in his turn, to laugh at in this adventure. In a word, madame," he said, sullenly, "you can believe me to entertain the wickedest intention in the world, and you will not overstep the reality, for I am now as much your enemy as I was your friend. As for the rest, I am well pleased; nothing is more wearying than fine sentiments. I should have resumed my shepherd songs and my morning sonnets. I shall take good care not to do so. I prefer the fashion in which I love you now, rather than heretofore," said Croustillac, throwing a glittering look at Angela.

REVELATIONS.

The poor Gascon, carried away by anger and jealousy, appeared more furious than he was in reality. Unhappily, the Duchess of Monmouth did not know him well enough to understand the exaggeration of this ferocious appearance.

Angela thought the adventurer seriously regretted having shown a generous spirit; in doubting him she naturally hesitated to calm the Gascon's jealousy by imparting the disguise of the duke; this avowal would ruin everything if the chevalier was not faithful. It was, then, prudent to hold this in reserve.

"Sir," said Angela, "you deceive yourself; there is a certain mystery in my conduct which I cannot yet explain to you."

These words redoubled Croustillac's irritation; for the past three days he had been surrounded by mysteries; therefore he exclaimed, "I have had enough mystery; I have had too many concerning yourself. I do not wish to be your dupe any longer, madame. I do not know what may await me; I do not know how all this will end, but I swear you shall follow me!"

"Sir!"

"Yes, madame, I have all the inconveniences of the rôle of your well-beloved husband; I will at least have its pleasures; as to this unworthy scoundrel of a mulatto, who says nothing, but thinks evil and would do it, I will deliver him over to De Chemerant, who will give me a good account of him. If it was not for soiling the sword of a gentleman by dipping it in his slave blood, I myself would take this vengeance."

Angela exchanged glances with Monmouth, whose imperturbability exasperated the Gascon. Both of them realized the necessity of calming the chevalier; his anger might prove dangerous; he must be quieted at once, without betraying the secret of the prince's disguise.

The young woman said to the adventurer, "All will be explained, sir; my greatest, my only wrong toward you has been in doubting the generosity of your character, and the loyalty of your devotion. Father Griffen, although he answered for you, has been, like myself, deceived as to the real motive of your intentions; we have believed, and we have been wrong in so believing, that you were capable of abusing the name which you have taken. In order to escape a fresh danger with which you seemed to threaten us, it became necessary to attempt a means, very uncertain, doubtless, but which might succeed. I could not escape—that would be only to meet you. I gave the necessary orders, then, that you should be introduced here with De Chemerant, hoping that you would surprise me, suddenly, and thus become a witness of the tender intimacy which linked me with the captain——"

"How! did you arrange this agreeable scene for me?" cried the Gascon furiously, "and you dare say it to my face? But this is the last degree of degradation and shame, madame. And for what purpose, if you please, did you wish to prove to me the abominable intimacy which binds you to this bandit?"

"To the end that it should be impossible for you to take me with you. Monsieur De Chemerant being a witness to my culpable intimacy with Captain Whirlwind, you could not, you who are passing as the Duke of Monmouth, take with you a woman, who, in the eyes of the French envoy, is as culpable as I would appear to him—as culpable as I am."

"You acknowledge it, then, madame?"

"Yes, and again yes, sir! Do not be generous by halves; what does it matter to you whom I love—a slave, as you say?"

"How, madame? What does it matter to me? have you then sworn to drive me mad? And what does it serve that I play the part of your husband? Does he really exist? Is he here, and do you not avail yourself of the mistakes of which I am a victim to get rid of me? Is he not already safely at a distance, this husband of yours? This is enough to drive one mad!" cried the Gascon wildly. "I believe my head is turned; am I or am I not for the past two days the sport of an abominable nightmare? Who are you? Where am I? Who am I? Am I Croustillac? Am I my lord? Am I the prince, am I a viceroy, or even a king? Have I had my throat cut or not? How is this to be explained? This thing must stop! If there is a Duke of Monmouth, where is he? Show him to me," cried the unhappy adventurer, in a state of excitement impossible to describe, but easy to imagine.

Angela, frightened and less ready than ever to tell the Gascon everything, said hesitatingly, "Sir, certain mysterious circumstances——"

Croustillac did not give her time to go on, but cried, "Still more mysteries! I tell you I have had enough mystery. I do not believe my brain is weaker than any other, but one hour more of this and I shall be a lunatic!"

"Sir, if you could understand——"

"Madame, I do not wish to understand," cried the chevalier, stamping his foot in a rage. "It is just because I have wished to understand that my head is almost turned."

"Sir," said Angela, "I beg you to be calm and reflect——"

"I do not wish to reflect nor to comprehend," cried Croustillac, exasperated afresh. "Right or wrong, I have determined that you accompany me, and you shall accompany me. I do not know where your husband is and I do not wish to know; what I do know is that you have not been obdurate either to Caribbeans, or buccaneers, or mulattoes; very well you shall not be obdurate to me. You see that clock—if in five minutes you do not consent to accompany me, I will tell De Chemerant everything, come of it what will. Decide, then; I shall speak no more; I shall be deaf, for my head will burst like a bombshell at the slightest word."

Croustillac threw himself into a chair, put his hands over his ears in order to hear nothing, and fixed his eyes on the clock.

Monmouth had walked up and down the room incessantly; he, as well as Angela, was in terrible perplexity.

"James, perhaps he is an honest man," said Angela in a low tone, "but his excitement terrifies me; see how wild his manner is."

"We must risk confiding to his loyalty, otherwise he will speak."

"But if he deceives us—if he tells all?"

"Angela! between two dangers we must choose the least."

"Yes, if he consents to pass for you, you are saved, at least this time."

"But in this case I cannot leave him in the power of De Chemerant."

"Oh! it is frightful!"

"Never will I consent to again plunge England into a civil war. I would a thousand times prefer prison and death; but to leave you, my God!"

"What shall we do, James? What danger does this man run?"

"Immense! the possessor of such a state secret."

"But then, I must lose you or follow him. Ah, what shall I do? Time presses."

After a moment's reflection, Monmouth said, "We must not hesitate. Tell him everything. If he then consents to play my rôle for some hours, I am safe, and will have the means to place him beyond the resentment of the French envoy."

"James! if this man should be a traitor? Heavens! take care."

At this moment the adventurer, seeing the hand of the clock reach the fifth minute, said to Angela, "Well, madame, what have you decided upon? Yes or no? For I am incapable of listening to or understanding anything beyond. Will you follow me or will you not? Speak."

Monmouth approached him with a grave and imposing air. "I am going, sir, to give you a proof of the highest esteem and of——"

"Your esteem, scoundrel," cried Croustillac indignantly, interrupting the duke. "Is it, indeed, to me that you dare speak thus? Your esteem——"

"But, sir——"

"Not another word," continued Croustillac, turning toward Angela. "Madame, will you follow me? Is it yes or no?"

"But listen——"

"Is it yes or no?" exclaimed he, walking toward the door; "answer, or I will call De Chemerant."

"But by St. George!" cried Monmouth.

The chevalier was about to open the door when the young woman seized him by the hands with such a beseeching air that he paused in spite of himself.

"Yes, yes, I will go with you," she said, in a frightened manner.

"At last!" said the Gascon, "so be it. Take my arm and let us go; De Chemerant has waited a long time."

"But just a moment—you must know all," said the poor woman hastily. "The Caribbean is in reality the filibuster, or rather the buccaneer and the Caribbean are——"

"Ah, there you go again; do you wish that I should retain my senses?" cried the Gascon, making a desperate effort and running toward the door in order to call De Chemerant.

The prince flung himself upon Croustillac, and, seizing his two wrists in one hand, placed the other over his mouth at the moment Croustillac called "Help, De Chemerant!" then he said, "I am the Duke of Monmouth!"

The prince thought the chevalier would understand everything the moment he spoke, but in the exasperation which Croustillac felt, he only saw in this statement a new artifice or a new provocation, and he redoubled his efforts to escape. Though much less strong than the duke, the chevalier was not without energy; he began to struggle violently, when Angela, terrified, ran and took up a flask, and, putting on her handkerchief a drop of the liquid, rubbed the hand of the prince, removing the stain upon it and showing the white skin.

"Do you understand now, sir, that the three persons are one?" said the prince, releasing Croustillac and showing him his white hand.

These words were a revelation to Croustillac, and he understood all.

Unfortunately, at the moment when the prince took his hand from the mouth of the Gascon, the latter had uttered the words, "Help! De Chemerant!"

The sound of the struggle had already attracted the attention of the French envoy, and, hearing the cry of Croustillac, he rushed into the room, sword in hand. It would be impossible to depict the stupefaction, the fright of the three when De Chemerant appeared. The duke put his hand upon his sword. Angela fell back into a chair and hid her face in her hands. Croustillac looked about him with an agonized air, regretting his imprudence, but too late.

Nevertheless, the adventurer's presence of mind returned to him little by little; as it needs but a ray of the sun to dispel the thick mist, so the moment that the good chevalier had the key to the three disguises of the prince, everything became clear to him. His mind, until then so sadly agitated, became calm; his unworthy doubt of Blue Beard ceased; there only remained his regret at having accused her, and the desire to devote himself to her and the prince.

With wonderful quickness of invention (we are familiar enough with the Gascon now to say with a marvelous facility for lying) Croustillac formed his plan of campaign against De Chemerant, who still, sword in hand, stood on the threshold and said for the second time, "What is it, your highness? what has happened? I thought I heard a cry and struggle, and an appeal for aid."

"You were not deceived, sir," said Croustillac gloomily.

Monmouth and his wife experienced a terrible anxiety. They were ignorant of the Gascon's intentions; knowing Monmouth's secret, he was now completely master of their fate.

If Angela and her husband had had enough presence of mind to scrutinize Croustillac's face, they would have seen a kind of triumphant and malignant joy, which betrayed itself in spite of him in the menacing frown of his forehead.

Monsieur De Chemerant asked him a third time why he had called.

"I called you, sir," said the chevalier in a dismal voice, and with the air of coming out of a deep study, "I called you to my aid——"

"Was it this wretch? your highness," said the envoy, pointing to Monmouth, who, standing with arms crossed, remained by the chair where Angela had seated herself, ready to defend her and to sell his life dearly, for, as we have said, he was ignorant of the adventurer's intention. "Speak the word, your highness," continued De Chemerant, "and I will hand him over to my guards."

The Gascon shook his head, and answered, "I charge myself with this man; this is my affair. It is not against such a creature as this that I called you to my assistance, sir, it is against myself."

"What do you say, your highness?"

"I mean that I was afraid that I would allow myself to be softened by the tears of his woman, as dangerously hypocritical as she is audaciously culpable."

"Your highness, it often takes courage—much courage—to be just."

"You are right, sir; that is why I feared my weakness. I called you in order that the sight of you might keep alive my indignation and rekindle my wrath, for you have been a witness of my dishonor, sir. So, tell me that if I pardon I would be a coward, that I should merit my fate. Is it not so, sir?"

"Your highness——"

"I understand you—you are right—yes, by St. George!" Croustillac remembered having heard the prince use this oath; "by St. George, I will be revenged."

Angela and the duke breathed again. They understood that the chevalier wished to save them.

"Your highness," said De Chemerant severely, "I do not hesitate to repeat to your highness, before madame, what I had the honor to say to you some short time ago, that an insurmountable barrier now separates you from a guilty spouse," continued the envoy, with an effort, while Angela hid her confusion by covering her face with her handkerchief.

Croustillac raised his head, and cried in a heartbroken tone, "Deceived by a mulatto; think of it, sir, a miserable mulatto, a mongrel, a copper-colored animal!"

"Your highness——"

"In a word, sir," said Croustillac, turning toward the envoy with an indignant and sorrowful manner, "you know why I returned, what my plans were; what I would have placed upon the brow of madame. Ah, well, is it not a frightful irony of fate that at this very moment a wife—a criminal——"

"Your highness," cried De Chemerant, interrupting the Gascon, "at present these projects must be a secret from madame."

"I know it; I know it! but then what a horrible surprise! I enter with a heart beating with joy, into the home circle, into my peaceful home, and what is it that I hear?"

"Your highness——"

"You have heard it as well as I. That is not all—what is it that I see?"

"Your highness, calm yourself."

"You have seen, as I have, a mulatto outlaw. But this shall not stop here, no, by St. George! Yes, I did well to call you. Now my anger boils; the most cruel plans crowd in upon my imagination. Yes, yes, that is it;" said Croustillac, with a meditative air. "I have it at last! I have found a revenge fitting the offence!"

"Your highness, the contempt——"

"The contempt—that is very easy for you to say, sir, contempt. No, sir, there remains another thing; I have found something better, and you shall assist me."

"Your highness, anything that depends upon my zeal, without prejudice to the orders which I have received, and the success of my mission."

"I renounce and cast off this unworthy woman. From this day, from this moment, all is forever at an end between her and me."

"Thank God!" cried De Chemerant, delighted with this resolve; "you could not act more wisely."

"To-morrow at daybreak," said the Gascon, in a curt tone, "she and her odious accomplice will embark on board of one of my vessels."

DEVOTION.

"Yes, sir!" repeated the Gascon, "to-morrow my wife and this miserable wretch shall go aboard one of my vessels. That is all my vengeance," continued he, dwelling on these words with savage irony. "Oh, I know what I am doing. Yes, by heaven! She and her guilty accomplice, those two, as if they were really husband and wife, the miserable wretches! shall embark together. As to the destination of the vessel," said the chevalier, with a glance of such horrible ferocity that De Chemerant was struck by it, "as to the fate that awaits these guilty ones, I cannot tell you, sir; that concerns no one but myself."

Then, taking Angela roughly by the arm, Croustillac exclaimed, "Ah, you desire a mulatto for a lover, duchess? very well, you shall have him. And you, scoundrel, you must have a white woman, a duchess? very well you shall have her. You shall never separate, tender lovers that you are, never again; but you do not know at what a terrible price you will be reunited."

"Your highness, what do you intend to do?"

"That is my affair; your responsibility will be at an end; the rest will take place on neutral ground," returned the Gascon with a smile at once mysterious and ferocious; "yes, on a desert island; and since this tender couple love one another, love each other to death, there will be time for them to prove it—until death."

"I understand you, your highness; I see perfectly; but that will be terrible," said De Chemerant, who thought that Croustillac intended to starve his wife and the mulatto.

"Terrible! you have said it, sir. All that I ask of you, and as a witness of my injury you cannot refuse me, is to give me the necessary assistance in order to conduct this guilty pair on board one of my ships. I will, myself, place them with the captain and give him his orders; orders which, perhaps he would not dare to obey if I did not give them in person."

Monsieur de Chemerant, in spite of his cunning, was duped by the seeming rage of Croustillac; he said to him respectfully, "Your highness, justice is severe, but should not be cruel."

"What do you say, sir?" cried Croustillac proudly, "am I not the sole judge of the punishment due this guilty pair? Do you refuse me your assistance when it only requires you to take this man and his accomplice on board a vessel belonging to me?"

"No, sir, but I would say to your highness that it would be, perhaps, more generous——"

Angela, seeing that she must no longer remain inactive, threw herself at the feet of Croustillac, crying, "Have mercy!" while Monmouth seemed to be wrapped in a deep and sad silence; then, addressing De Chemerant, the young woman continued, "Oh, sir, you seem to be sensible and good; intercede for me with my dear lord, that he condemn me to less cruel pain. I have merited it all, I will suffer all, but that my dear lord——"

"I forbid your calling me your 'dear lord,' madame," said Croustillac. "I am no longer your dear lord."

"Ah well, your highness, do not send me on board the vessel of which you speak."

"And why not, madame?"

"My God! because that the brigantine is the Chameleon, commanded by Captain Ralph; your highness, this man is cruel; he succeeded the filibuster Whirlwind in this command."

"And that is just why I have chosen the Chameleon, madame; it is just because Captain Ralph is the most cruel enemy of your unworthy lover," said Croustillac, who understood perfectly Angela's meaning.

"But, your highness, you know very well that this vessel will be anchored to-morrow morning very near here, almost at the foot of the cliff in the alligators' cave."

"Yes, madame, I know it."

"Oh, your highness, would you compel me to embark there when nothing in the world would make me even approach its banks? My God! have you forgotten the frightful memories that this place is connected with in my mind?"

"Oh! the cunning creature," thought Croustillac; "she wishes to say, what I did not know, that there is a vessel of hers called the Chameleon, whose captain is devoted to her, and who will anchor to-morrow near here. I have it! This is just her own vessel she had prepared hastily to furnish her and the duke a means of escape, when she saw me carried off by Colonel Rutler; one of the negro fishermen was doubtless sent ahead to deliver her directions."

The Gascon, after some little reflection, said aloud, "Yes, those memories are terrible to you, I know it, madame."

"Then, your highness, have you the heart——"

"Yes, yes," cried the chevalier, in an explosion of rage, "yes, no pity for the infamous creature who has so unworthily outraged me! All the better, my vengeance commences but the sooner. I will show you that you have no pity to look for from me; you shall see!" He struck a bell.

"What are you going to do, your highness."

"Your faithful Mirette will come; you shall yourself give her the order to send to Captain Ralph to prepare everything on board the Chameleon to set sail at daybreak."

"Ah, your highness, it is barbarous to make me give the order, myself."

"Obey, madame, obey."

Mirette appeared. Angela gave the order in a broken voice.

"I have obeyed you, and now your highness, in pity grant me a last favor in the name of our past love."

"Oh, yes, by St. George!" cried Croustillac, "past? oh, past, decidedly."

"Allow me one moment, your highness, the favor of an interview."

"No, no, never!"

"Do not refuse me; do not be so pitiless?"

"Out of my sight, faithless woman!"

"My lord!" said Angela, clasping her hands.

"Your highness," said De Chemerant, "at the moment of quitting madame forever, do not refuse her this last consolation."

"You also, De Chemerant, you also? and though you have been a witness?—Ah, well, I consent, madame, but upon one condition."

"You have but to order."

"That your paramour remain during our conversation."

"Really, this is not so bad, I think," said Croustillac to himself; "I hope the duchess will understand me and at first refuse."

"But, my dear lord," said Angela; "the last interview that you grant me should be between us alone."

"Marvelous! oh, she comprehends a half word," said Croustillac to himself; then aloud, "And why, then, should our interview be private? Have you something you desire to hide from your best beloved—from the lover of your choice?"

"But if I desire to beg your forgiveness, sir?"

"You can do so before your accomplice. The more you accuse yourself, the more you depict your conduct as disloyal, infamous, unworthy, the more you affirm the lowness of your choice. This will be your punishment and this scoundrel's also."

"But, my lord?"

"That is my ultimatum," replied Croustillac.

"Do you not fear the despair of this man?" said De Chemerant in a low tone.

"No; traitors are always cowards. Behold this one—what a gloomy, downcast air. He does not dare as much as lift his eyes to me. In any case, sir, send, I beg, some men of yours to the gallery outside, instructed to enter at my first signal." Then, turning with an air of reconsidering, and desiring to make a master stroke, Croustillac said, "In fact, if you will be present at this interview, Monsieur De Chemerant, the punishment of this guilty couple will be complete."

"Oh, sir, in pity do not condemn me to such a depth of shame and humiliation," cried Angela, in despairing tones. "And you, sir, have the generosity not to consent to this," she said to De Chemerant.

Monsieur De Chemerant had the delicacy to excuse himself to the Gascon; he left the room, and left Monmouth, Angela, and the adventurer together.

The envoy had hardly left the room before Monmouth, after assuring himself that he could not be overheard, held out his hand cordially to Croustillac, and said to him, feelingly, "Sir, you are a man of spirit, courage, and resolution; accept our thanks, and pardon us for having suspected you even for a moment."

"Yes, yes, pardon our unjust suspicions," said Angela, on her part taking the Gascon's hand between her own. "We were so disturbed, and your manner was so furious, so wild!"

"We all had reason, madame;" said the adventurer, "you had reason to be disturbed, because my return was not very reassuring. I had reason to be furious, because I supposed the duke to be a bandit. As to my wild manner, by heavens! it may be said without offense, you will acknowledge that enough strange things have occurred during the last two days, and I may be excused for being a little astounded. Fortunately, I recovered my self-possession when I saw I had been a fool and had risked everything."

"Brave and excellent man," said Monmouth.

"Bravery is in the blood of the Croustillacs, sir; as to being excellent, I do not know about that; if such be the case, it is not my fault; it is your wife's work, who has aroused in me the desire to be better that I really am. Ah, well, prince, time is precious; everything is in train to raise a county of England in your favor; Louis the XIV. will support this insurrection. There is offered you the viceroyship of Ireland and Scotland, and all kinds of other favors."

"Never will I consent to profit by these offers. Civil wars have cost me too dear," cried Monmouth; "and"—looking at Angela, "I no longer have ambitions."

"Your highness! reflect well! If your heart counsels remove the bronze color from your face, and say to De Chemerant that reasons known only to yourself obliged you to guard your secret until now. You will prove to him who you are; I will return your duchy to you, and ask your permission to go and fight at your side in Cornwall, or elsewhere, in order to serve you, as they say, as a living armor. I am sure this will please the duchess."

"And we have suspected him," said Angela, looking at her husband.

"He must forgive us," said the duke. "Men like him are so rare that it is not unnatural to doubt them when one encounters them."

"Hold on, my lord, you embarrass me. Let us speak of other matters. Do you, or do you not, accept the viceroyship? After that, do not think I shall press you to speak in order to relieve me from your rôle; it pleases me, it amuses me. I have become quite accustomed to it. Nevertheless, it will be somewhat unpleasant to no longer hear myself addressed as 'my lord duke,' to say nothing of my laughing in my sleeve when I think of all the absurdities which I have made that good De Chemerant, with his important air, swallow. If I persist, your highness, in praying that you resume your rank, as it seems they are terribly in need of you in England in order to secure the happiness of the people in general and that of Cornwall in particular; you must know that better than I do——"

"Ah! I know only too well the vain pretexts that one offers to ambition."

"But, your highness, all appears to be perfectly prepared. The frigate which has brought the good De Chemerant is filled with arms and ammunition; there is in it enough to arm and revolutionize all the Cornishmen in the world; moreover, you can count on a dozen of your partisans."

"Of my partisans! and where, then?" cried Monmouth.

"On board Chemerant's frigate. These brave men are waiting for me, that is to say, waiting for you, your highness, with great impatience. There is above all a madman named Mortimer, whom De Chemerant had the greatest difficulty in the world to keep on board, so much was he possessed with the desire to embrace me—I would say embrace you, for I confound us all the time."

Angela, seeing the troubled manner of her husband, said to him, "My God! what ails you?"

"I can no longer hesitate," replied Monmouth, "I must tell De Chemerant the whole truth."

"Heavens, James! what are you saying?"

"You wish to be viceroy, your highness?" interposed Croustillac.

"No, sir, I desire to prevent your ruining yourself on my account. My gratitude will be no less lasting for the service that you wished to do me."

"How, your highness? Is it not, then, to become viceroy that you would dispossess me of my principality?"

"My partisans are on board the frigate; if I should accept your generous offer, sir, to-morrow you would be known—lost."

"But, your highness——"

"Except for this circumstance which, I repeat, would cause your discovery in a moment, I would, perhaps, have excepted your generous devotion, the mistake of De Chemerant might have continued for a few days, and I could have put you beyond the reach of his resentment; but to accept your offer, sir, knowing the presence of my friends on board the frigate, would be to expose you to certain danger. I can never consent to do that."

"Your highness forgets that it means perpetual imprisonment for you if you do not place yourself at the head of this movement?"

"It is because it means for me the escape from a danger that I do not choose to sacrifice you, sir. When I learned that you were taken prisoner by Rutler I was going to rush to your assistance in order to release you."

"My God, James! think of the prison! of eternal confinement! but it is not possible! and what will become of me, if I should be forbidden to accompany you? No, no! you will not reject the sacrifice which this generous man offers to make!"

"Angela!" said the duke, in a tone of reproach; "Angela! and this generous man, shall we abandon him shamefully when he is devoted to us—to escape imprisonment, shall we condemn him to an eternal captivity?"

"Him?"

"Doubtless! is he not the possessor of a state secret? Will not De Chemerant be furious at seeing himself tricked. I tell you, he cannot escape prison when the trick shall be discovered."

"Confound it! my duke, attend to your own affairs!" cried Croustillac, "and do not take the bread out of my mouth, as they say. Prisoner of state! that disgusts you, but do you not know that that would be an assured retreat for me, a refuge for my old days? To be frank, the life of an adventurer palls upon me; there must be an end to it. I would have something more sure; judge, then, if that would not suit me? Prisoner of state! can I not secure that? I beg of you not to take from me the last resource of my old age; do not destroy my future."

"Listen to me, you brave and worthy man," responded Monmouth, affectionately pressing his hand. "I am not deceived by your ingenious pretenses."

"Your highness, I swear——"

"Listen, I beg of you; when you have heard me you will no longer be surprised at my refusal. You will see that I cannot accept your generous offer without being doubly culpable. You will understand the sad memories, not to say remorse, that your devoted offer and the present chain of circumstances awake in me. And you, Angela, my dearly beloved, you shall at last learn a secret that until this present moment I have hidden from you; it needed circumstances as grave as these in which I am now placed to force me to make this sad revelation."

THE MARTYR.

"James! James! what are you saying? you terrify me!" exclaimed Angela, as she witnessed the duke's emotion.

"You know," said the duke to Croustillac, "in consequence of what political events I was arrested and confined to the Tower of London in 1685?"

"You will excuse me, your highness, if I know not a word of it; I am as ignorant as a fish of contemporaneous history, which, be it said in passing, and without boasting, rendered my part outrageously difficult to play; for I was always afraid I should make some ridiculous statement, and thus compromise, not my reputation as a scholar—I am no priest—but your fortune which I so imprudently assumed."

"Very well then," said the duke; "after the death of my father; when the Duke of York, my uncle, ascended the throne under the title of James II., I entered into a conspiracy against him. I shall not seek to justify my conduct; years of reflection have made things clear to me. I know now that I was as culpable as I was insane; the young Duke of Argyle was the soul in this plot. All this was carried on under the very eyes of the Prince of Orange, then a stadtholder, now King of England. Argyle knew my views of the Protestant action, my ambition, my resentment against James II.; he had no trouble in associating me with his plans. At once, owing to my name and influence, I was at the head of the conspiracy. I had news from England which only waited my presence there to overthrow the throne of the papist king to proclaim me king in his place. I departed from the Texel with three vessels transporting soldiers whom I had recruited. Argyle, having preceded me in Scotland, had paid with his head for the audacity of his attempt. I landed in England at the head of a number of devoted partisans. I realized then how greatly I had been deceived. Three or four thousand men at the most joined the handful of brave men who were pledged to my cause, and among others were Mortimer, Rothsay and Dudley. The son of Monck, the young Duke of Albemarle, advanced against me at the head of a royal army; and I, desiring to bring fortune to the point, made a decisive move. I attacked the enemy at Sedgemore, near Bridgewater; I was beaten in spite of the prodigies of valor shown by my little army, and, above all, by my cavalry, commanded by the brave Lord George Sidney." In pronouncing this name, the voice of the prince failed him, and deep emotion was depicted upon his face.

"George Sidney! my second father! my benefactor!" cried Angela. "It was in fighting for you he was killed! it was at that battle, then, that he was killed? This is the secret you have hidden from me?"

The duke bent his head, and after a few minutes' silence, said, "You will know all, very soon, child! Our rout was complete. I wandered off at hazard; my head had a price upon it. I was seized the day after this fatal defeat and conducted to the Tower of London. My case was tried. Convicted of high treason, I was condemned to death."

"Oh," cried Angela, throwing herself into the duke's arms; "you deceived me; I believed you to be only exiled."

"Be calm, Angela; yet I have hidden this from you, as much that you should not be troubled as—." Then, after a moment's hesitation, Monmouth continued, "you shall know all; it requires much courage to make this revelation."

"Why? What have you to fear?" said Angela.

"Alas! poor child, when you have heard me, perhaps you will regard me with horror!"

"You, James? do you believe that I can ever do that?"

"Well," said Monmouth, "whatever the result, I must speak, at the risk, perhaps, of separating us forever."

"Never, never!" cried Angela despairingly.

"Zounds! I will sooner throw De Chemerant from these cliffs at the least pretense," cried Croustillac. "And, as for that, with your slaves, we could furnish him a fine escort. But I think—will you try this method? How many slaves can you arm, sir?"

"You forget that De Chemerant's escort is considerable; the negro fishermen have gone—there are not more than four or five men here. Violent means are impossible. Providence doubtless wills that I shall expiate a great crime. I will be resigned."

"A crime, James? guilty of a great crime? I will never believe it!" cried Angela.

"If my crime was involuntary, it was none the less horrible. Angela, it is now my duty to tell you what I owe to Sidney, your noble relative who took such care of you in your infancy, poor orphan! While you were receiving your education in France, where he had himself taken you, Sidney, whom I had seen in Holland, attached himself to my fortunes; a singular similarity of tastes, of principles and thoughts, had drawn us together; but he was so proud that I was obliged to make the advances. How happy I was at having first pressed his hand! Never was there a living soul as beautiful as Sidney's. Never was there a nobler character or a more generous and ardent heart! Dreaming of the happiness of the people, deceived as I was myself as to the true end of my plans, he believed that he was serving the holy cause of humanity, when he was in reality only serving the fatal ambition of a man! While the conspiracy was organizing, he was my most active emissary and my most intimate confidant. To describe to you, my child, the profound, blind attachment of Sidney for myself would be impossible; one affection only struggled in his heart with that which he had vowed to me; it was his tenderness for you—you, his distant relative of whom he had assumed the care. Oh! how he cherished you! Through all the agitations, and the perils of his life as a soldier and conspirator, he always found some moments in which to visit his Angela. There were ever tears in his eyes when he spoke to me of you. Yes, this man, of intrepid courage and indomitable energy, wept like a child in speaking of your tender grace, the qualities of your heart, and your sad and studious youth, poor little abandoned one, for you had no one in the world but Sidney. On that fatal day at Bridgewater he commanded my cavalry. After prodigies of valor, he was left for dead on the battlefield; as for me, carried away in a rush of flying troops, grievously wounded, it was impossible for me to find him."

"Was not that the day when he died?" said Angela, wiping her eyes.

"Listen, Angela; oh, you do not know how these sad memories break my heart!"

"And ours also," said Croustillac. "Brave Sidney! I do not know what it is that tells me that he did not die that day at Bridgewater, and that we shall hear of him again."

Monmouth trembled, remained silent a moment, and then continued: "I must have courage. I will tell you all. Sidney was left for dead on the battlefield; I was arrested, condemned to death, and my execution fixed for the 15th of July, 1685. When they told me I was to be executed the following day, I was alone in my prison.

"In the midst of the terrible thoughts to which I was a prey during those dreadful hours that preceded the moment of my execution, I swear to you, Angela, before the God that hears me, if I had any sweet and consoling thoughts to calm me, they were those I gave to Sidney, in recalling the beautiful days of our friendship. I believed him dead and I said, 'In a few hours I shall be united to him forever.' All at once the door of my cell opened and Sidney appeared!"

"Zounds! so much the better! I was sure he was not dead," exclaimed Croustillac.

"No, he was not dead," replied the duke with a sigh. "Would to God he had died as a soldier on the field of battle."

Angela and Croustillac looked at Monmouth in astonishment. He continued: "At the sight of Sidney I believed myself the dupe of a fancy conjured up by my extreme agitation; but I soon felt his tears on my cheek, and myself pressed within his arms. 'Saved! you are saved!' he said, through his tears. 'Saved?' said I, gazing at him stupidly. 'Saved, yes; listen to me,' said he, and this was what he told me: My uncle the king could not openly show me mercy; policy forbade; but he did not wish his brother's son to perish on the scaffold. Informed by one of his courtiers who was, notwithstanding, one of my friends, of the resemblance between Sidney and myself, a resemblance which so struck you the first time you saw me," said Monmouth to Angela, "King James had secretly provided Sidney with means to get into my prison. This devoted friend was to assume my clothes, and I to put on his, and go out of the Tower by means of this strategy. The next day, learning of my escape and the devotion of Sidney remaining prisoner in my stead, the king would put him at liberty and give orders to seek me out; but these orders would only be in appearance. He favored, secretly, my departure for France. I was only to write to the king and give him my word to never return to England."

"Ah, well," said Angela, interested to the last degree by this recital; "you accepted Sidney's offer, and he remained a prisoner in your stead?"

"Alas! yes, I accepted it, for all that Sidney said to me seemed so probable; his presence at that hour in the prison, in spite of the severe watch to which I was subjected, made me believe that an all-powerful will aided mysteriously in my flight."

"It was not so, then?" cried Angela.

"Nothing could be more naturally arranged, it seems to me," said Croustillac.

"In effect," said Monmouth, smiling bitterly, "nothing was more naturally arranged; it was only too easy for Sidney to persuade me, to turn aside my objections."

"And what objections could you make?" said Angela. "What was there astonishing in that King James, not wishing to shed your blood on the scaffold, should connive at your escape?"

"And how could Sidney succeed in getting into the prison, sir, without the assistance of some powerful influence?" said the adventurer.

"Oh, is it not so?" said the duke with sad satisfaction, "was it not that all that Sidney said to me might seem probable, possible? Was I not justified in believing him?"

"Undoubtedly," said Angela.

"Was it not," continued Monmouth, "was it not possible to put faith in his words without being misled by the fear of death, without being influenced by a cowardly, horrible egotism? And still, I swear to you, I did not agree to what Sidney said to me. Before accepting life and liberty which he came to offer me in the name of my uncle, I asked myself what would happen to my friend if James did not keep his promise? I said to myself that the greatest punishment that could befall a man who was an accomplice in aiding another to escape, was imprisonment in turn; thus, admitting this hypothesis, once free, although compelled to hide myself, I had sufficient resources at my disposal not to quit England before having, in my turn, liberated Sidney. What more can I say to you? The instinct of life, the fear of death, doubtless obscured my judgment, troubled my discernment. I accepted, for I believed everything Sidney said to me. Alas! why was I so insane?"

"Insane? Faith, you would have been insane had you not accepted!" cried Croustillac.

"Who, indeed, would have hesitated in your place?" added Angela.

"No, no, I tell you that I should not have accepted; my heart, if not my head, should have revolted at this deceptive thought. But what did I know. A strange fatality, perhaps a frightful egotism, pushed me on. I accepted. I pressed Sidney in my arms, I took his clothes, and I said to him, 'To-morrow!' with the conviction that I should see him the following day. I left my cell; the jailer escorted me to the gate; thanks to my resemblance to Sidney, he noticed nothing wrong, and led me in haste by a secret road as far as a door of the Tower. I was free! I forgot to tell you that Sidney had informed me of a house in the city where I could wait for him safely, for he would return, he said, to me the following day, in order to plan our departure. At last I found, at this house in the city, the precious stones I had confided to Sidney on my departure from Holland, the value of which was enormous. Wrapped up in his mantle, a mantle which you wear to-day, and which has remained sacred to me, I directed my steps toward the city. I rapped at the door; an old woman opened it, and leading me into a secluded chamber, she gave into my hands the iron casket, the key of which Sidney had handed me. I found there my precious stones. Broken with fatigue, for the sleepless hours I had passed were frightful, I fell into a slumber. For the first time since my sentence to death, I sought sleep without saying to myself that the scaffold awaited me on my awakening. When I arose the following day it was broad daylight; a bright sun penetrated between my curtains. I raised them; the sky was clear; it was a radiant summer day. Oh! I felt such rapturous joy and such inexpressible happiness. I had seen my open tomb, and I still lived. I breathed the air in every pore. Seized with gratitude, I threw myself upon my knees, and blessed God, the king, and Sidney. I waited to see this dear friend from one moment to another. I did not doubt, no, I could not doubt, the king's clemency. All at once I heard in the distance the criers announcing important events; it seemed to me that I heard my name. I thought it was an illusion, but, in fact, it was my name. Oh, then, a frightful presentiment seized me; my hair stood on end. I remained on my knees. I listened with my heart beating violently; the voices came nearer; I still heard my name mingled with other words. A ray of joy, as foolish as my presentiment had been horrible, changed my terror into hope. Madman! I believed they were crying the details of the escape of the Duke of Monmouth. In my impatience, I descended to the street; I bought the account; I mounted again with palpitating heart, holding the paper in my hands."

Saying these words, Monmouth became frightfully pale, and could hardly support himself. A cold perspiration bathed his forehead.

"Well?" cried Angela and Croustillac, who experienced a piercing agony.

"Ah," cried the duke despairingly, "it was the details of the execution of the Duke of Monmouth."^[B]

"And Sidney?" cried Angela.

"Sidney had died for me, died a martyr to friendship. His blood, his noble blood, had been shed upon the scaffold instead of mine. Now, Angela, you see, unhappy child, why I have always hidden this terrible secret."

At these words the duke fell back on the sofa, hiding his face in his hands. Angela threw herself at his feet, sobbing bitterly.

^[B] Hume says: "After his execution, his partisans held to the hope of yet seeing him at their head; they flattered themselves that the prisoner who had been beheaded was not the Duke of Monmouth, but one of his friends, who resembled him greatly, and who had had the courage to die in his stead."

Sainte-Foix, in a letter on the Iron Mask (Amsterdam, 1768), says: "It is true that the report spread through London that an officer of Monmouth's army who greatly resembled the duke, having been taken prisoner, and knowing death to be inevitable, received a proposition to represent the duke with as much joy as if life had been offered him; and hearing this, that a great lady, having bribed those who could open his coffin, and having looked at the form, cried, 'Ah, that is not the Duke of Monmouth.'" Furthermore, Sainte-Foix, who sought to prove that the Iron Mask was no other than the Duke of Monmouth, cited a passage of another English work by Pyms, in which he says: "Count Landy sent to seek Colonel Skelton, who was the ex-lieutenant of the Tower, and whom the Prince of Orange had dismissed to give the place to Lord Lucas." "Skelton," said Count Landy to him the previous evening, in dining with Robert Johnston, "you say that the Duke of Monmouth is living and imprisoned in an English castle?" "I cannot vouch for this, because I do not really know," said Skelton, "but I affirm that the night after the pretended execution of the Duke of Monmouth, the king, accompanied by three men, came himself to the tower and carried the duke away."

Sainte-Foix cites still another conversation with Father Tournemine, saying, "The Duchess of Portsmouth said to Father Tournemine and to the confessor of King James that she always imputed to that prince the execution of the Duke of Monmouth, because Charles II., at the moment of his death and when about to receive the last communion, had made King James (then Duke of York) promise on the Host, which Huldeston, a Catholic priest, secretly carried, that whatever revolt the Duke of Monmouth might attempt he (James) would never punish him with death; so King James did not put him to death," said Father Sanders.

We will not multiply citations. We only desire to establish that the foundation of this story is not merely a romantic fiction, and that if it is not based upon a historic certainty, it is at least based upon a likely supposition.