“We were kindly treated.  They did not take away my money; and they willingly sold us little luxuries; they also granted us two hours of exercise each day in the court-yard, and even loaned us books to read.  In short, I should not have had any particular cause to complain, if I had been allowed to receive or to forward letters, or if I had been able to communicate with my father or with Marie-Anne.  But we were in the secret cells, and were not allowed to have any intercourse with the other prisoners.

“At length our detention seemed so strange and became so insupportable to us, that we resolved to obtain some explanation of it, cost what it might.

“We changed our tactics.  Up to that time we had been quite submissive; we suddenly became violent and intractable.  We made the prison resound with our cries and protestations; we were continually sending for the superintendent; we claimed the intervention of the French ambassador.  We were not obliged to wait long for the result.

“One fine afternoon, the superintendent released us, not without expressing much regret at being deprived of the society of such amiable and charming guests.

“Our first act, as you may suppose, was to run to the ambassador.  We did not see that dignitary, but his secretary received us.  He knit his brows when I told my story, and became excessively grave.  I remember each word of his reply.

“‘Monsieur,’ said he, ’I can swear that the persecution of which you have been the object in France had nothing whatever to do with your detention here.’

“And as I expressed my astonishment: 

“‘One moment,’ he added.  ’I shall express my opinion very frankly.  One of your enemies—­I leave you to discover which one—­must exert a very powerful influence in Turin.  You were in his way, perhaps; he had you imprisoned by the Piedmontese police.’”

With a heavy blow of his clinched fist, Jean Lacheneur made the table beside him reel.

“Ah! the secretary was right!” he exclaimed.  “Maurice, it was Martial de Sairmeuse who caused your arrest——­”

“Or the Marquis de Courtornieu,” interrupted the abbe, with a warning glance at Jean.

A wrathful light gleamed for an instant in the eyes of Maurice; but it vanished almost immediately, and he shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“Nonsense,” said he, “I do not wish to trouble myself any more about the past.  My father is well again, that is the main thing.  We can easily find some way of getting him safely across the frontier.  Marie-Anne and I, by our devotion, will strive to make him forget that my rashness almost cost him his life.  He is so good, so indulgent to the faults of others.  We will take up our residence in Italy or in Switzerland.  You will accompany us, Monsieur l’Abbe, and you also, Jean.  As for you, corporal, it is decided that you belong to our family.”

Nothing could be more horrible than to see this man, upon whose life such a terrible blight was about to fall, so bright and full of hope and confidence.