A few minutes after the scene of confusion produced in thesalons of M. Danglars by the unexpected appearance of thebrigade of soldiers, and by the disclosure which hadfollowed, the mansion was deserted with as much rapidity asif a case of plague or of cholera morbus had broken outamong the guests. In a few minutes, through all the doors,down all the staircases, by every exit, every one hastenedto retire, or rather to fly; for it was a situation wherethe ordinary condolences, - which even the best friends areso eager to offer in great catastrophes, - were seen to beutterly futile. There remained in the banker's house onlyDanglars, closeted in his study, and making his statement tothe officer of gendarmes; Madame Danglars, terrified, in theboudoir with which we are acquainted; and Eugenie, who withhaughty air and disdainful lip had retired to her room withher inseparable companion, Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly. Asfor the numerous servants (more numerous that evening thanusual, for their number was augmented by cooks and butlersfrom the Cafe de Paris), venting on their employers theiranger at what they termed the insult to which they had beensubjected, they collected in groups in the hall, in thekitchens, or in their rooms, thinking very little of theirduty, which was thus naturally interrupted. Of all thishousehold, only two persons deserve our notice; these areMademoiselle Eugenie Danglars and Mademoiselle Louised'Armilly.

The betrothed had retired, as we said, with haughty air,disdainful lip, and the demeanor of an outraged queen,followed by her companion, who was paler and more disturbedthan herself. On reaching her room Eugenie locked her door,while Louise fell on a chair. "Ah, what a dreadful thing,"said the young musician; "who would have suspected it? M.Andrea Cavalcanti a murderer - a galley-slave escaped - aconvict!" An ironical smile curled the lip of Eugenie. "Intruth I was fated," said she. "I escaped the Morcerf only tofall into the Cavalcanti."

"Oh, do not confound the two, Eugenie."

"Hold your tongue! The men are all infamous, and I am happyto be able now to do more than detest them - I despisethem."

"What shall we do?" asked Louise.

"What shall we do?"

"Yes."

"Why, the same we had intended doing three days since - setoff."

"What? - although you are not now going to be married, youintend still" -

"Listen, Louise. I hate this life of the fashionable world,always ordered, measured, ruled, like our music-paper. WhatI have always wished for, desired, and coveted, is the lifeof an artist, free and independent, relying only on my ownresources, and accountable only to myself. Remain here? Whatfor? - that they may try, a month hence, to marry me again;and to whom? - M. Debray, perhaps, as it was once proposed.No, Louise, no! This evening's adventure will serve for myexcuse. I did not seek one, I did not ask for one. God sendsme this, and I hail it joyfully!"

"How strong and courageous you are!" said the fair, frailgirl to her brunette companion.

"Did you not yet know me? Come, Louise, let us talk of ouraffairs. The post-chaise" -

"Was happily bought three days since."

"Have you had it sent where we are to go for it?"

"Yes."

"Our passport?"

"Here it is."

And Eugenie, with her usual precision, opened a printedpaper, and read, -

"M. Leon d'Armilly, twenty years of age; profession, artist;hair black, eyes black; travelling with his sister."

"Capital! How did you get this passport?"

"When I went to ask M. de Monte Cristo for letters to thedirectors of the theatres at Rome and Naples, I expressed myfears of travelling as a woman; he perfectly understoodthem, and undertook to procure for me a man's passport, andtwo days after I received this, to which I have added withmy own hand, `travelling with his sister.'"

"Well," said Eugenie cheerfully, "we have then only to packup our trunks; we shall start the evening of the signing ofthe contract, instead of the evening of the wedding - thatis all."

"But consider the matter seriously, Eugenie!"

"Oh, I am done with considering! I am tired of hearing onlyof market reports, of the end of the month, of the rise andfall of Spanish funds, of Haitian bonds. Instead of that,Louise - do you understand? - air, liberty, melody ofbirds, plains of Lombardy, Venetian canals, Roman palaces,the Bay of Naples. How much have we, Louise?" The young girlto whom this question was addressed drew from an inlaidsecretary a small portfolio with a lock, in which shecounted twenty-three bank-notes.

"Twenty-three thousand francs," I said she.

"And as much, at least, in pearls, diamonds, and jewels,"said Eugenie. "We are rich. With forty-five thousand francswe can live like princesses for two years, and comfortablyfor four; but before six months - you with your music, andI with my voice - we shall double our capital. Come, youshall take charge of the money, I of the jewel-box; so thatif one of us had the misfortune to lose her treasure, theother would still have hers left. Now, the portmanteau - let us make haste - the portmanteau!"

"Stop!" said Louise, going to listen at Madame Danglars'door.

"What do you fear?"

"That we may be discovered."

"The door is locked."

"They may tell us to open it."

"They may if they like, but we will not."

"You are a perfect Amazon, Eugenie!" And the two young girlsbegan to heap into a trunk all the things they thought theyshould require. "There now," said Eugenie, "while I changemy costume do you lock the portmanteau." Louise pressed withall the strength of her little hands on the top of theportmanteau. "But I cannot," said she; "I am not strongenough; do you shut it."

"Ah, you do well to ask," said Eugenie, laughing; "I forgotthat I was Hercules, and you only the pale Omphale!" And theyoung girl, kneeling on the top, pressed the two parts ofthe portmanteau together, and Mademoiselle d'Armilly passedthe bolt of the padlock through. When this was done, Eugenieopened a drawer, of which she kept the key, and took from ita wadded violet silk travelling cloak. "Here," said she,"you see I have thought of everything; with this cloak youwill not be cold."

"But you?"

"Oh, I am never cold, you know! Besides, with these men'sclothes" -

"Will you dress here?"

"Certainly."

"Shall you have time?"

"Do not be uneasy, you little coward! All our servants arebusy, discussing the grand affair. Besides, what is thereastonishing, when you think of the grief I ought to be in,that I shut myself up? - tell me!"

"No, truly - you comfort me."

"Come and help me."

From the same drawer she took a man's complete costume, fromthe boots to the coat, and a provision of linen, where therewas nothing superfluous, but every requisite. Then, with apromptitude which indicated that this was not the first timeshe had amused herself by adopting the garb of the oppositesex, Eugenie drew on the boots and pantaloons, tied hercravat, buttoned her waistcoat up to the throat, and put ona coat which admirably fitted her beautiful figure. "Oh,that is very good - indeed, it is very good!" said Louise,looking at her with admiration; "but that beautiful blackhair, those magnificent braids, which made all the ladiessigh with envy, - will they go under a man's hat like theone I see down there?"

"You shall see," said Eugenie. And with her left handseizing the thick mass, which her long fingers couldscarcely grasp, she took in her right hand a pair of longscissors, and soon the steel met through the rich andsplendid hair, which fell in a cluster at her feet as sheleaned back to keep it from her coat. Then she grasped thefront hair, which she also cut off, without expressing theleast regret; on the contrary, her eyes sparkled withgreater pleasure than usual under her ebony eyebrows. "Oh,the magnificent hair!" said Louise, with regret.

"And am I not a hundred times better thus?" cried Eugenie,smoothing the scattered curls of her hair, which had nowquite a masculine appearance; "and do you not think mehandsomer so?"

"Oh, you are beautiful - always beautiful!" cried Louise."Now, where are you going?"

"To Brussels, if you like; it is the nearest frontier. Wecan go to Brussels, Liege, Aix-la-Chapelle; then up theRhine to Strasburg. We will cross Switzerland, and go downinto Italy by the Saint-Gothard. Will that do?"

"Yes."

"What are you looking at?"

"I am looking at you; indeed you are adorable like that! Onewould say you were carrying me off."

"And they would be right, pardieu!"

"Oh, I think you swore, Eugenie." And the two young girls,whom every one might have thought plunged in grief, the oneon her own account, the other from interest in her friend,burst out laughing, as they cleared away every visible traceof the disorder which had naturally accompanied thepreparations for their escape. Then, having blown out thelights, the two fugitives, looking and listening eagerly,with outstretched necks, opened the door of a dressing-roomwhich led by a side staircase down to the yard, - Eugeniegoing first, and holding with one arm the portmanteau, whichby the opposite handle Mademoiselle d'Armilly scarcelyraised with both hands. The yard was empty; the clock wasstriking twelve. The porter was not yet gone to bed. Eugenieapproached softly, and saw the old man sleeping soundly inan arm-chair in his lodge. She returned to Louise, took upthe portmanteau, which she had placed for a moment on theground, and they reached the archway under the shadow of thewall.

Eugenie concealed Louise in an angle of the gateway, so thatif the porter chanced to awake he might see but one person.Then placing herself in the full light of the lamp which litthe yard, - "Gate!" cried she, with her finest contraltovoice, and rapping at the window.

The porter got up as Eugenie expected, and even advancedsome steps to recognize the person who was going out, butseeing a young man striking his boot impatiently with hisriding-whip, he opened it immediately. Louise slid throughthe half-open gate like a snake, and bounded lightlyforward. Eugenie, apparently calm, although in allprobability her heart beat somewhat faster than usual, wentout in her turn. A porter was passing and they gave him theportmanteau; then the two young girls, having told him totake it to No. 36, Rue de la Victoire, walked behind thisman, whose presence comforted Louise. As for Eugenie, shewas as strong as a Judith or a Delilah. They arrived at theappointed spot. Eugenie ordered the porter to put down theportmanteau, gave him some pieces of money, and havingrapped at the shutter sent him away. The shutter whereEugenie had rapped was that of a little laundress, who hadbeen previously warned, and was not yet gone to bed. Sheopened the door.

"Mademoiselle," said Eugenie, "let the porter get thepost-chaise from the coach-house, and fetch some post-horsesfrom the hotel. Here are five francs for his trouble."

"Indeed," said Louise, "I admire you, and I could almost sayrespect you." The laundress looked on in astonishment, butas she had been promised twenty louis, she made no remark.

In a quarter of an hour the porter returned with a post-boyand horses, which were harnessed, and put in the post-chaisein a minute, while the porter fastened the portmanteau onwith the assistance of a cord and strap. "Here is thepassport," said the postilion, "which way are we going,young gentleman?"

"To Fontainebleau," replied Eugenie with an almost masculinevoice.

"What do you say?" said Louise.

"I am giving them the slip," said Eugenie; "this woman towhom we have given twenty louis may betray us for forty; wewill soon alter our direction." And the young girl jumpedinto the britzska, which was admirably arranged for sleepingin, without scarcely touching the step. "You are alwaysright," said the music teacher, seating herself by the sideof her friend.

A quarter of an hour afterwards the postilion, having beenput in the right road, passed with a crack of his whipthrough the gateway of the Barriere Saint-Martin. "Ah," saidLouise, breathing freely, "here we are out of Paris."

"Yes, my dear, the abduction is an accomplished fact,"replied Eugenie. "Yes, and without violence," said Louise.

"I shall bring that forward as an extenuating circumstance,"replied Eugenie. These words were lost in the noise whichthe carriage made in rolling over the pavement of LaVillette. M. Danglars no longer had a daughter.