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CHAP. XIV.

Α TALE.

(From the French of Eugène Sue.)

BY ELIZABETH O'HARA.

Continued from page 334.

THE REIGN OF TERROR.

The Duc de Bracciano was quite reassured when he left the Tuileries. He had for a moment feared that his wife, or the Princesse de Montlaur, might divulge to the Emperor his deeply-laid schemes; but when he reflected on their high-minded characters, he felt that neither could be guilty of such an action. He was now certain of the Emperor's support; and he did not doubt but that, with perseverance, he could prevail on his wife to accept the post that was, in a measure, the key-stone of his projects.

M. de Bracciano had on the same day fresh cause for rejoicing. The Emperor had informed him that Raoul had left Vienna against his orders, notwithstanding the mission which should have kept him there; and connecting this hasty departure with Madame de Bracciano's conduct, the Emperor was furious with the Colonel, and intended sending him under arrest to Vincennes, immediately on his arrival at Paris. All concurred to serve M. de Bracciano's designs, and to calm his fears. He was too egotistical, too selfish to love his wife; but, susceptible and proud to an excess, he greatly dreaded ridicule. He anxiously asked himself if M. de Surville's attentions to his wife had been remarked. Sometimes he hoped their relationship would suffice to explain them; sometimes he feared that that very relationship would occasion malicious remarks. He bitterly reproached himself for having tolerated their intimacy. Though he had no fear of his wife's virtue, he had a great fear of scandal. He never attached the slightest suspicion to HerHow could he suppose that a woman would hesitate between a poor, obscure youth, and the brilliant, fascinating Colonel? Madame de Montlaur herself had never dreamt of Herman : Jeanne, from a delicacy of feeling, had been so guarded that his name had never escaped her.

man.

As soon as Madame de Bracciano was alone, she hastily wrote the following note to Herman :

letter, Pierre Herbin entered the Hôtel de Bracciano: it was ten o'clock at night. Notwithstanding the agitating events of the day, M. de Bracciano, who was endowed with wonderful powers of application, was at work in his library, when his valet brought a letter, saying that the bearer wished to see his Eccellency immediately, as he had matters of the greatest importance to communicate.

"Pierre Herbin !" said the Duke, looking at the letter-" Pierre Herbin! I know that name; I have a vague recollection of it-at Dijon, during the revolution; but I cannot recall anything particular. What matter! Let him come in."

Shortly afterwards Pierre Herbin appeared. The library was lit by one lamp only, and the Duke turned its light full on Herbin's harsh features, but did not seem to recognize him.

"Well, citizen, dost thou know my face, now thou hast nearly put me out of countenance?" sarcastically asked Pierre.

Astonished by this audacity, the Duke rose and said, "What is the meaning of this, sir?"

"It means-why it means that, in order to give a zest to our chat, my identity must be proved, as thou usedst to say, when thou wast Public Accuser at Dijon."

Leave the house instantly!" said the Duke, raising his hand to the bell.

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Softly, citizen; before making a commotion, just look over these papers," said Pierre, quietly, and showing a bundle of papers.

"Dost thou see the dates-1792, 1793 ? Revolutionary Tribunal, Dijon! These papers are, to thee, like Pandora's box: they contain both good and evil; so no noise-no imprudence; don't put thyself out! Thy conscience is not too clean respecting those two sanguinary years! The best thing thou canst do, citizen, is to listen to me patiently."

Either M. de Bracciano had something to reproach himself with, or Pierre Herbin had excited, if not his fear, his curiosity; for he went to make sure they could not be overheard, ere he said to his visitor, who was comfortably installed by the fire, "Speak, sir: be assured that I care "All is lost! there is no hope! You shall not die not for your mysterious airs; but I never refuse alone. Your mother's cross shall be returned to you an audience to any one-my country may gain to-night." by it. Speak, then, sir; but do not attribute Three hours after Herman had received this my condescension to any other motives."

"I am not thy dupe, citizen; thou hearest me because thy conscience is rather shaky. Otherwise thou hadst kicked me out! tell the truth, citizen."

"Cease this language, sir, or leave me !" cried the Duke.

"As thou wilt, citizen," replied Pierre Herbin, replacing his papers in his large pockets. M. de Bracciano shrugged his shoulders, and impatiently desired him to continue, but be brief.

"Brief? that's difficult, citizen; for what I have to tell thee is devilish long. By the way, thou hast dropped 'thee and thou,' and citizen,' the words don't please thee now, eh? I've seen the day, though, Monsieur Duke, when thou wast public accuser at Dijon, and thou didst 'thee and thou,' and 'citizen,' the highest in the land-to be sure thou wast going to shorten them by the head!"

"I cannot suppose, sir, that you have come, at this untimely hour, to criticise my conduct during those terrible times."

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Right for once, citizen! Do you remember me?"

"Your face and name are familiar. As far as I can recollect, I met you at Dijon during the revolution, but I had not much to do with you."

"There-there-thou'rt_getting on, citizen! I'll put thee on the scent. I was for a month-" "Greffier of the revolutionary tribunal?" cried the Duke; "I remember, now."

hunger: they took refuge at Jacques Briot's, and appealed to his generosity. He saved their lives. Montbard, worn out by his privations, could go no further: he was discovered concealed at Jacques Briot's-you denounced him as a means of injuring my friend: he fell, and three days afterwards, by your agency, by your accusation, Jacques Briot followed him to the scaffold!"

"It may be so I remember nothing of it," said the Duke. But why recall these unfortunate events?"

"You will soon see!-I was Greffier at the tribunal; I resigned my situation after this abominable perversion of justice, for I knew the cause of your hatred to Jacques Briot."

"The law punishes with death those who give shelter to her enemies. I was not actuated by hatred, or even personal motives."

"You were not!-and WILHELMINA BUTLER!" cried Pierre. The Duke made no answer. Pierre continued-" On leaving my office I carried away the papers relating to Jacques' trial, as a memorial, and in the hope that they would be of service in clearing his reputation. Amongst these papers were those concerning Montbard. No one missed them. When you rose so high, I thought the time was come for exposing your former conduct: what was my joy on discovering, as I read over the trial, several papers which, though of little consequence to you in '93, can now destroy the fortune you have laboured to secure!" The Duke Is mechanically held out his hand for the papers. Pierre continued-"Not yet! and know that, if you held them, they would be useless to you. I have not come here without taking my precautions. I know you have but to reach Napoleon's ears, and I am safely lodged at Vincennes! These papers are only copies: the originals are in the hands of a friend, who has orders, if I do not claim them personally tomorrow, to make them public."

"Thy memory is devilish lazy, citizen! that all thou canst remember?" "All. If there are other circumstances, they have escaped me."

"Indeed, citizen!" Certainly."

"Thou dost not remember one Jacques Briot, whom thou didst condemn to death, and whose tongue thou didst stop, instead of allowing him to defend himself?"

"I do not remember him." "No?-Thou'rt right: when we can forget our crimes, so much the better for us!"

"A judgment, however severe, is no crime, sir."

"Jacques Briot was not judged-he was murdered!" cried Pierre, rage now replacing the brutal irony he had till then assumed. "Jacques Briot was my friend-he was a brother to me. You yielded to an infernal hatred in pursuing him so zealously. His crime was, that he had favoured the flight of two Royalists: you asked and obtained his life for this act of generosityworthy of the admiration of all parties: he was sacrificed to your revenge!"

"I cannot recall these circumstances," stammered the Duc de Bracciano.

"You cannot? I will assist you. The two Royalists were the Count de Grandpré and the Baron de Nérolles: with them was one Montbard, an old soldier of the guards. They escaped from Lyons at the time of the prison massacres, and after numberless dangers reached Dijon. They were dying with fatigue and

"But what is all this-what do you mean?" asked M. de Bracciano, with involuntary, but irrepressible agitation.

"You'll know-in time!" answered Pierre Herbin, looking over his papers.

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The man's boldness confounded M. de Bracciano; he now remembered that rivalry for the love of a foreigner had caused his hatred of Jacques Briot, but he could not conceive what influence these long forgotten events could have over his present prospects. Recovering his selfpossession, he haughtily said to Pierre Herbin, "Put an end to this scene, sir, it is too late."

"Too late! you will soon think it too early!" gloomily replied Pierre. "Let us go to work with regularity. Do you remember an Athenian officer, prisoner at Dijon in '92, called Butler?"

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"Jacques Briot was passionately attached to Wilhelmina. She loved him as dearly. You saw her: she was beautiful-you were fascinated. She repulsed you disdainfully, saying she loved another, Jacques Briot. You swore you would have his life-you watched your opportunity-i you kept your word."

"Ah! that man! ever that man!" exclaimed the Duke, with a sort of terror.

"Aye!-ever that man!" repeated Herbin, and with a solemn voice he added-"Listen, Jerôme Morisson. You and I, we believe in nothing. You are an ambitious madman. All means are to you alike, provided you rise by them; your heart is overgrown with selfishness. You have been a judicial murderer, the worst of all, because the most cowardly. I do not equal you yet, but I am more sinner than saint-poverty has depraved me. Although we despise all that others fear and revere, let us, bad as we are, bow before Providence and fate. You killed Jacques Briot, by a succession of unheard-of events; his tomb has become the cradle of all the disasters that are now hanging over you. Well may you say, ever that man!”

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To-morrow!" said Pierre, with a savage laugh. "Why you know nothing yet! You know the cause but not the effect ever this man!' I tell you: Montbard is the key of the enigma. Montbard was not what he appeared to be. Montbard was a nobleman, a great lord, an emigré in disguise!"

"And what is that to me ?" said the Duke. What? what? I revel in your security! your awakening will be terrible! Montbard was a nobleman, under a false name. In the precipitation of your hatred, in your haste to condemn him, and thus found a capital accusation against Jacques Briot, you did not take the trouble to examine these papers; and yet they prove who this Montbard was; and now you would give your whole fortune to destroy them.'

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"For Heaven's sake! sir," said the Duke, with more anger and impatience than fear, "terminate this scene, and tell me who this man was."

"See if there be not a Providence!" replied Pierre Herbin; "this Montbard, the pretext of Jacques Briot's death, the victim of your revengeful schemes-was-the Marquis de Souvry, your wife's father!

Pierre Herbin resumed more calmly: "Jacques Briot was poor, and Captain Butler, also poor, would not accept him as a son-in-law. It was too late the poor girl had listened to the voice of nature, and three months after her lover's death she gave birth to a son. That son-is-ror. Herman Forster!"

"Herman !-Jacques Briot's son!-Herman Forster!" cried the Duke with terror.

"Soon after you left Dijon for Lyons, Wilhelmina Butler returned to Vienna. Her father died; she brought up her son by the name of Butler, till certain affairs, that do not concern you, obliged him to come to France under the name of Herman Forster. That was about six months ago. I happened to hear that you wanted a secretary, and left no stone unturned till I had placed him here in your house, without your guessing whom you had, or who had made you this fine present.'

"Wretch !"-cried the Duke. "You wanted to seize some political secret and ruin me!-to introduce a man into my family who has a right to hate me--who must be my mortal enemy-to poison his mind by your calumnies-" "Calumnies!-he knew you had murdered his father-I needed no calumnies."

"A tissue of infernal stratagems."

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Ah! you might well cry ever that man'! Listen again, Jerôme Morisson; I have not come to the end yet. You've got your secretary; let him be—we must return to Montbard, whom you guillotined, and who was the involuntary cause of Jacques Briot's death. Do you know who this Montbard was?"

"An old guardsman, you said so yourself. I am very tired, sir, you may return to-morrow."

CHAPTER XVI.

EXPLANATION S.

At these words the Duke started back in horPierre Herbin triumphantly contemplated him and continued:-" Were you not prophetic in crying, ever that man?"" The blood of Jacques Briot brings forth its avengers." Both were silent.

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He-he," murmured the Duke, "Montbard, the Marquis de Souvry-impossible! The Marquis died in prison at Lyons. You lie, villain! you lie !-with unparalleled audacity."

Pierre Herbin showed the papers to the Duke, and replied with unmovable sang froid-" You will perceive by this copy of a letter written by the Marquis de Souvry, that he escaped from Lyons, where he had been imprisoned, under his real name. He was supposed to have been thrown into the Rhône with the other victims of that terrible night. In his flight, he took the name of Montbard, concealing his real rank even fromJacques Briot, to whom he described himself as an old soldier and a deserter. On his arrest he was still careful not to discover himself; but when sentenced, he wrote this letter to a friend and in it describes his flight from Lyons. He gave it, with all his remaining gold, to one of the turnkeys, who, instead of forwarding it, brought it to me as greffier; you were in haste, and cared little for his correspondence, so you countersigned this paper, I believe, without reading it."

"Can it be !" said the Duke, snatching the paper from Pierre he read it, tore it to atoms, and trampled on them with curses.

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"I was right you see not to bring the original, which I have in safety, with your signature," said Pierre. "Now just look over these other pieces; tear them if you like,-I shall have so much the less to carry home.'

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The Duke returned no answer, but eagerly perused the whole bundle, and found the frightful discovery confirmed. He pushed away the papers and hid his face in his hands. After a moment's silence, he calmly said: "Now, sir, I understand it all. Of course you put a price on your silence. Herman is without friends, I will secure his fortune. I bitterly regret the past, and I will do all in my power to repair it. You need no assurances from me-the papers you hold are a sufficient guarantee. I feel how much I owe to the son of that unfortunate man, Mr. Herbin; but although appearances are against me, be assured I was only the instrument of the law. I will provide for Herman Forster, but I could not bear to have him near me: he may depend first on having a good place, and then on an annual sum equivalent to his wants-say 200 Napoleons. Do you think that enough? Be candid, Monsieur Herbin; I will make any sacrifice."

Pierre's only reply was a strange smile. M. de Bracciano, emboldened by his silence, continued "For yourself, my dear sir, I suppose at your age you are not very anxious for an active life. I fancy you told me you were poor: well, will an allowance equal to Herman's content you? If not sufficient I will say 300 Napoleons, although I have many expenses to meet. Well, what do you say? Eh? For mercy's sake, speak!" he cried, alarmed at length by Herbin's silence and strange smile. "If you have other views, speak !"

"Did you imagine, citizen," said Pierre, "that a few paltry thousands could purchase our silence? Reflect-we have only to say, 'Do you see that man? he brought the father to the scaffold, and dared to marry the daughter! In his insatiable ambition, in his insatiable avarice, he sought this marriage, well knowing that Mlle. de Souvry was the daughter of his victim.'

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Infamous!" cried the Duke; "you know it is false-that I was not aware of this deplorable circumstance."

"Who will believe it? Did not you, Jerôme Morisson, public accuser, countersign this let ter, these papers? Who will believe that you had not read them?"

"This is abominable; but what price do you ask for your silence?"

"A price! a price! the infamy is yours who dare to offer me a price: no," continued Herbin ironically: "no, I have come here for the love of virtue. Neither I nor Herman will accept anything from you: from you, the murderer of my friend-from you, the murderer of Herman's father-from you, the murderer of your wife's father! What I choose-what, in my virtuous disinterestedness, I will have, is the rupture of an impious, sacrilegious union that outrages nature."

"What does he say?" said M. de Bracciano, fearing to have understood these words.

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"I say, that God and man abhor your union with Jeanne de Souvry, the daughter of him whom you slew! I say, that if you do not instantly draw up a petition for a divorce, founded on no matter what, these papers shall be published to-morrow. Do you think that the law will hesitate in rescuing your victim? will see yourself covered with opprobrium, an object of universal horror, deprived of your places, your honours-for no one can doubt your guilty knowledge of Montbard's real station. Is not this letter countersigned by you? Who will believe that when you first met Mlle. de Souvry, you did not remember these circumstances? The Emperor himself will have no pity on you, lest he be taken for your accomplice."

M. de Bracciano remained overwhelmed with rage and despair. At length he exclaimed-“I see all now! The colonel has discovered these papers-you are his tool. It was to work his infernal schemes, that he braved the Emperor's displeasure in hastening home-"

"The colonel coming!" thought Herbin : "it's just as well I know it. He does not suspect Herman, so much the better. I'll leave him in his ignorance and now, to kill two birds with one stone, I must have Surville safely stowed Jerome Morisson," continued he aloud, “as a away; he might interrupt our plans. Listen, proof that I am no friend of the colonel's, I will give you a bit of advice. You are hand-in-glove with the Ministre de Police-write to him in the Emperor's name, and desire him to place a guard he arrives." at the barriers, and arrest the colonel as soon as

"You advise this! the Emperor has already ordered him to be conveyed to Vincennes as soon as he enters Paris," cried the Duke in astonishment.

thought Pierre: "I was going to order a deli"I did not think I was so good a prophet," cate job, and the Emperor does my work for me! The colonel boxed up, we are all right.

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M. de Bracciano paced the library. He was at a loss how to decide: he foresaw the deplorable results of allowing the particulars of the Marquis's trial to be published; he saw the base of his hardly-earned fortune crumbling beneath him. He could not hesitate, he must himself press forward this divorce, and by this means obtain the destruction of the papers; he might then hope to preserve his offices, his reputation. If, on the contrary, the papers were published, he knew the Emperor and felt certain, that, even were there a doubt of his guilt, his master would sacrifice him a thousand times rather than retain a man supposed capable of such an action. He therefore said to Herbin, " I am in your power, sir-I trust to your word. I will myself petition for a divorce: as soon as it is pronounced, you will burn, in my presence, the originals of these papers: is it a bargain ?"

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Agreed!" said Herbin. "I ask no more: only, a formal demand in your name must be

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