Villefort had, as we have said, hastened back to Madame deSaint-Meran's in the Place du Grand Cours, and on enteringthe house found that the guests whom he had left at tablewere taking coffee in the salon. Renee was, with all therest of the company, anxiously awaiting him, and hisentrance was followed by a general exclamation.

"Well, Decapitator, Guardian of the State, Royalist, Brutus,what is the matter?" said one. "Speak out."

"Are we threatened with a fresh Reign of Terror?" askedanother.

"Has the Corsican ogre broken loose?" cried a third.

"Marquise," said Villefort, approaching his futuremother-in-law, "I request your pardon for thus leaving you.Will the marquis honor me by a few moments' privateconversation?"

"Ah, it is really a serious matter, then?" asked themarquis, remarking the cloud on Villefort's brow.

"So serious that I must take leave of you for a few days;so," added he, turning to Renee, "judge for yourself if itbe not important."

"You are going to leave us?" cried Renee, unable to hide heremotion at this unexpected announcement.

"Alas," returned Villefort, "I must!"

"Where, then, are you going?" asked the marquise.

"That, madame, is an official secret; but if you have anycommissions for Paris, a friend of mine is going thereto-night, and will with pleasure undertake them." The guestslooked at each other.

"You wish to speak to me alone?" said the marquis.

"Yes, let us go to the library, please." The marquis tookhis arm, and they left the salon.

"Well," asked he, as soon as they were by themselves, "tellme what it is?"

"An affair of the greatest importance, that demands myimmediate presence in Paris. Now, excuse the indiscretion,marquis, but have you any landed property?"

"All my fortune is in the funds; seven or eight hundredthousand francs."

"Then sell out - sell out, marquis, or you will lose itall."

"But how can I sell out here?"

"You have it broker, have you not?"

"Yes."

"Then give me a letter to him, and tell him to sell outwithout an instant's delay, perhaps even now I shall arrivetoo late."

"The deuce you say!" replied the marquis, "let us lose notime, then!"

And, sitting down, he wrote a letter to his broker, orderinghim to sell out at the market price.

"Now, then," said Villefort, placing the letter in hispocketbook, "I must have another!"

"To whom?"

"To the king."

"To the king?"

"Yes."

"I dare not write to his majesty."

"I do not ask you to write to his majesty, but ask M. deSalvieux to do so. I want a letter that will enable me toreach the king's presence without all the formalities ofdemanding an audience; that would occasion a loss ofprecious time."

"But address yourself to the keeper of the seals; he has theright of entry at the Tuileries, and can procure youaudience at any hour of the day or night."

"Doubtless; but there is no occasion to divide the honors ofmy discovery with him. The keeper would leave me in thebackground, and take all the glory to himself. I tell you,marquis, my fortune is made if I only reach the Tuileriesthe first, for the king will not forget the service I dohim."

"In that case go and get ready. I will call Salvieux andmake him write the letter."

"Be as quick as possible, I must be on the road in a quarterof an hour."

"Tell your coachman to stop at the door."

"You will present my excuses to the marquise andMademoiselle Renee, whom I leave on such a day with greatregret."

"You will find them both here, and can make your farewellsin person."

"A thousand thanks - and now for the letter."

The marquis rang, a servant entered.

"Say to the Comte de Salvieux that I would like to see him."

"Now, then, go," said the marquis.

"I shall be gone only a few moments."

Villefort hastily quitted the apartment, but reflecting thatthe sight of the deputy procureur running through thestreets would be enough to throw the whole city intoconfusion, he resumed his ordinary pace. At his door heperceived a figure in the shadow that seemed to wait forhim. It was Mercedes, who, hearing no news of her lover, hadcome unobserved to inquire after him.

As Villefort drew near, she advanced and stood before him.Dantes had spoken of Mercedes, and Villefort instantlyrecognized her. Her beauty and high bearing surprised him,and when she inquired what had become of her lover, itseemed to him that she was the judge, and he the accused.

"The young man you speak of," said Villefort abruptly, "is agreat criminal. and I can do nothing for him, mademoiselle."Mercedes burst into tears, and, as Villefort strove to passher, again addressed him.

"But, at least, tell me where he is, that I may know whetherhe is alive or dead," said she.

"I do not know; he is no longer in my hands," repliedVillefort.

And desirous of putting an end to the interview, he pushedby her, and closed the door, as if to exclude the pain hefelt. But remorse is not thus banished; like Virgil'swounded hero, he carried the arrow in his wound, and,arrived at the salon, Villefort uttered a sigh that wasalmost a sob, and sank into a chair.

Then the first pangs of an unending torture seized upon hisheart. The man he sacrificed to his ambition, that innocentvictim immolated on the altar of his father's faults,appeared to him pale and threatening, leading his affiancedbride by the hand, and bringing with him remorse, not suchas the ancients figured, furious and terrible, but that slowand consuming agony whose pangs are intensified from hour tohour up to the very moment of death. Then he had a moment'shesitation. He had frequently called for capital punishmenton criminals, and owing to his irresistible eloquence theyhad been condemned, and yet the slightest shadow of remorsehad never clouded Villefort's brow, because they wereguilty; at least, he believed so; but here was an innocentman whose happiness he had destroyed: in this case he wasnot the judge, but the executioner.

As he thus reflected, he felt the sensation we havedescribed, and which had hitherto been unknown to him, arisein his bosom, and fill him with vague apprehensions. It isthus that a wounded man trembles instinctively at theapproach of the finger to his wound until it be healed, butVillefort's was one of those that never close, or if theydo, only close to reopen more agonizing than ever. If atthis moment the sweet voice of Renee had sounded in his earspleading for mercy, or the fair Mercedes had entered andsaid, "In the name of God, I conjure you to restore me myaffianced husband," his cold and trembling hands would havesigned his release; but no voice broke the stillness of thechamber, and the door was opened only by Villefort's valet,who came to tell him that the travelling carriage was inreadiness.

Villefort rose, or rather sprang, from his chair, hastilyopened one of the drawers of his desk, emptied all the goldit contained into his pocket, stood motionless an instant,his hand pressed to his head, muttered a few inarticulatesounds, and then, perceiving that his servant had placed hiscloak on his shoulders, he sprang into the carriage,ordering the postilions to drive to M. de Saint-Meran's. Thehapless Dantes was doomed.

As the marquis had promised, Villefort found the marquiseand Renee in waiting. He started when he saw Renee, for hefancied she was again about to plead for Dantes. Alas, heremotions were wholly personal: she was thinking only ofVillefort's departure.

She loved Villefort, and he left her at the moment he wasabout to become her husband. Villefort knew not when heshould return, and Renee, far from pleading for Dantes,hated the man whose crime separated her from her lover.

Meanwhile what of Mercedes? She had met Fernand at thecorner of the Rue de la Loge; she had returned to theCatalans, and had despairingly cast herself on her couch.Fernand, kneeling by her side, took her hand, and covered itwith kisses that Mercedes did not even feel. She passed thenight thus. The lamp went out for want of oil, but she paidno heed to the darkness, and dawn came, but she knew notthat it was day. Grief had made her blind to all but oneobject - that was Edmond.

"Ah, you are there," said she, at length, turning towardsFernand.

"I have not quitted you since yesterday," returned Fernandsorrowfully.

M. Morrel had not readily given up the fight. He had learnedthat Dantes had been taken to prison, and he had gone to allhis friends, and the influential persons of the city; butthe report was already in circulation that Dantes wasarrested as a Bonapartist agent; and as the most sanguinelooked upon any attempt of Napoleon to remount the throne asimpossible, he met with nothing but refusal, and hadreturned home in despair, declaring that the matter wasserious and that nothing more could be done.

Caderousse was equally restless and uneasy, but instead ofseeking, like M. Morrel, to aid Dantes, he had shut himselfup with two bottles of black currant brandy, in the hope ofdrowning reflection. But he did not succeed, and became toointoxicated to fetch any more drink, and yet not sointoxicated as to forget what had happened. With his elbowson the table he sat between the two empty bottles, whilespectres danced in the light of the unsnuffed candle - spectres such as Hoffmann strews over his punch-drenchedpages, like black, fantastic dust.

Danglars alone was content and joyous - he had got rid ofan enemy and made his own situation on the Pharaon secure.Danglars was one of those men born with a pen behind theear, and an inkstand in place of a heart. Everything withhim was multiplication or subtraction. The life of a man wasto him of far less value than a numeral, especially when, bytaking it away, he could increase the sum total of his owndesires. He went to bed at his usual hour, and slept inpeace.

Villefort, after having received M. de Salvieux' letter,embraced Renee, kissed the marquise's hand, and shaken thatof the marquis, started for Paris along the Aix road.

Old Dantes was dying with anxiety to know what had become ofEdmond. But we know very well what had become of Edmond.