“I understand you,” replied Diana.  “You wish to be paid for what you call your kindness.”

“Ah, mademoiselle!”

“And you put a value of sixty thousand francs upon it; that is rather a high price, is it not?”

“Alas! it is not half what this unhappy business has cost me.”

“Nonsense; your demand is preposterous.”

“Demand!” returned he; “I make no demand.  I come to you respectfully and with a little charity.  If I were to demand, I should come to you in quite a different manner.  I should say, ’Pay me such and such a sum, or I tell everything.’  What have I to lose if the whole story comes to light?  A mere nothing.  I am a poor man, and am growing old.  You and M. Norbert are the ones that have something to fear.  You are noble, rich, and young, and a happy future lies before you.”

Diana paused and thought for an instant.

“You are speaking,” answered she at last, “in a most foolish manner.  When charges are made against people, proofs must be forthcoming.”

“Quite right, mademoiselle; but can you say that these proofs are not in my hands?  Should you, however, desire to buy them, you are at liberty to do so.  I give you the first option, and yet you grumble.”

As he spoke, he drew a battered leather pocket-book from his breast, and took from it a paper, which, after having been crumpled, had been carefully smoothed out again.  Diana glanced at it, and then uttered a stifled cry of rage and fear, for she at once recognized her last letter to Norbert.

“That wretch, Francoise, has betrayed me,” exclaimed she, “and I saved her mother from a death by hunger and cold.”

The Counsellor held out the letter to her.  She thought that he had no suspicion of her, and made an attempt to snatch it from him; but he was on his guard, and drew back with a sarcastic smile on his face.

“No, mademoiselle,” said he; “this is not the little bottle of poison; however, I will give it to you, together with another one, when I have obtained what I ask.  Nothing for nothing, however; and if I must go to the scaffold, I will do so in good company.”

Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was in utter despair.

“But I have no money,” said she.  “Where is a girl to find such a sum?”

“M.  Norbert can find it.”

“Go to him, then.”

Daumon made a negative sign with his head.

“I am not quite such a fool,” answered he; “I know M. Norbert too well.  He is the very image of his father.  But you can manage him, mademoiselle; besides, you have much interest in having the matter settled.”

“Counsellor!”

“There is no use in beating about the bush.  I come to you humbly enough, and you treat me like so much dirt.  I will not submit to this, as you will find to your cost. I never poisoned any one; but enough of this kind of thing.  To-day is Tuesday; if on Friday, by six o’clock, I do not have what I have asked for, your father and the Count Octave will have a letter from me, and perhaps your fine marriage may come to nothing after all.”