“Ah, Henrietta! your father deserved—­Wretched old man! to abandon his child to the mercy of such miserable wretches!”

And, when the poor girl looked at him imploringly, he replied,—­

“Be it so!  I will say nothing more of the count.  He is your father, and that is enough.”

Then he added coldly,—­

“But that M. Thomas Elgin, I swear by God he shall die by my hand; and as to Sarah Brandon”—­

He was interrupted by the old dealer, who tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and said with an indescribable smile,—­

“You shall not do that honor to the Hon. M. Elgin, M. Champcey.  People like him do not die by the sword of honest men.”

In the meantime Henrietta had resumed her history, and spoke of her surprise and amazement when she reached that bare room in Water Street, with its scanty second-hand furniture.

“And yet, Henrietta,” here broke in Daniel, “I had handed that man all my money to be placed at your disposal in case of any accident.”

“What!” exclaimed the old dealer, “you had”—­

He did not finish, but looked at the young officer with an utterly amazed air, as if he were an improbable phenomenon, never seen before.

Daniel shook his head sadly.

“Yes,” he said, “I know it was an insane thing.  But it was less insane than to intrust my betrothed to his care.  I believed in the friendship of that man.”

“And besides,” remarked Mrs. Bertolle, “how could you suppose such atrocious treachery?  There are crimes which honest hearts never even conceive.”

Henrietta continued, describing her sensations when she found herself for the first time in her life harassed by want, destitution, hunger.  But, when she came to the disgusting ill-treatment she received at the hands of the concierge’s wife, Daniel cried out,—­

“Stop!”

And, fearfully excited, he asked her,—­

“Did I hear right?  Did you say the concierge of that house in Water Street, and his wife, were called Chevassat?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because Maxime de Brevan’s real name is Justin Chevassat.”

Papa Ravinet started up as if he had been shot.

“What,” he said, “you know that?”

“I learned it three months ago.  I also know that my friend, the proud nobleman, Maxime de Brevan, who has been received in the most aristocratic salons of Paris, has been a galley-slave, condemned for forgery.”

Henrietta had risen, filled with terror.

“Then,” she stammered, “this wretched man was”—­

“Chevassat’s son; yes, madam,” replied Mrs. Bertolle.

“Oh!” exclaimed the poor girl, “oh!”

And she fell heavily back into her chair, overcome by this discovery. 
The old dealer alone preserved his calm appearance.

“How did you learn that?” he asked Daniel.

“Through the man whom my friend Maxime had hired to murder me.”