He was aroused at a late hour on the following morning, from feverish slumber, by the opening of his door; and, starting up, he, with equal surprise and displeasure, recognized M. d’Aulney in the intruder.  A glance of angry defiance was the only salutation which he deigned to give; but it was unnoticed by D’Aulney, who had apparently resolved to restrain the violence, which they had mutually indulged on the preceding day.

“I come to offer you freedom, M. de la Tour,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation, “and on terms which the most prejudiced could not but consider lenient.”

“Freedom from life, then!” La Tour scornfully replied; “I can expect no other liberty, while it is in your power to hold me in bondage.”

“Beware how you defy my power!” replied D’Aulney; “or provoke the wrath which may burst in vengeance on your head.  You are my prisoner, De la Tour; and, as the representative of royalty here, the command of life or death is entrusted to my discretion.”

“I deny that command,” said La Tour, “and bid you exercise it at your peril.  Prove to me the authority which constitutes you my judge; which gives you a right to scrutinize the actions of a compeer; to hold in duresse the person of a free and loyal subject of our king;—­prove this, and I may submit to your judgment, I may crave the clemency, which I now despise—­nay, which I would not stoop to receive from your hands.”

“You speak boldly, for a rebel and a traitor!” said D’Aulney, contemptuously; “for one whose office is annulled, and whose name is branded with infamy!”

“Come you hither to insult me, false-hearted villain?” exclaimed La Tour, passionately; “prisoner and defenceless, though I now am, you may yet have cause to repent the rashness which brings you to my presence!”

“Your threats are idle,” returned D’Aulney; “I never feared you, even in your greatest strength; and think you, that I can now be intimidated by your words?”

“What is the purport of this interview?” asked La Tour, impatiently; “and why am I compelled to endure your presence? speak, and briefly, if you have aught to ask of me; or go, and leave me to the solitude, which you have so rudely disturbed.”

“I spoke to you of freedom,” replied D’Aulney; “but since you persist in believing my intentions evil, it would be useless to name the terms on which I offer it.”

“You can offer no terms,” said La Tour, “which comport with the honor of a gentleman and a soldier to accept.”

“Are you ignorant,” asked D’Aulney, “that you are proscribed, that an order is issued for your arrest, and that a traitor’s doom awaits you, in your native land?”

“It is a calumny, vile as your own base heart,” exclaimed La Tour; “and so help me, heaven, as I shall one day prove its falsehood.”

“You have been denounced at a more impartial tribunal than mine,” said D’Aulney, deliberately unrolling a parchment which he carried, and pointing to the seal of France; “these characters,” he added, “are traced by high authority; and need you any farther proof, that your honors are wrested from you, and your name consigned to infamy?”