Be so good as to come this way. ’ The sword was released to slide back into its scabbard. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. “I am lonely. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket.
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