And now let us leave Mademoiselle Danglars and her friendpursuing their way to Brussels, and return to poor AndreaCavalcanti, so inopportunely interrupted in his rise tofortune. Notwithstanding his youth, Master Andrea was a veryskilful and intelligent boy. We have seen that on the firstrumor which reached the salon he had gradually approachedthe door, and crossing two or three rooms at lastdisappeared. But we have forgotten to mention onecircumstance, which nevertheless ought not to be omitted; inone of the rooms he crossed, the trousseau of thebride-elect was on exhibition. There were caskets ofdiamonds, cashmere shawls, Valenciennes lace, Englishveilings, and in fact all the tempting things, the baremention of which makes the hearts of young girls bound withjoy, and which is called the "corbeille."* Now, in passingthrough this room, Andrea proved himself not only to beclever and intelligent, but also provident, for he helpedhimself to the most valuable of the ornaments before him.

Literally, "the basket," because wedding gifts wereoriginally brought in such a receptacle.

Furnished with this plunder, Andrea leaped with a lighterheart from the window, intending to slip through the handsof the gendarmes. Tall and well proportioned as an ancientgladiator, and muscular as a Spartan, he walked for aquarter of an hour without knowing where to direct hissteps, actuated by the sole idea of getting away from thespot where if he lingered he knew that he would surely betaken. Having passed through the Rue Mont Blanc, guided bythe instinct which leads thieves always to take the safestpath, he found himself at the end of the Rue Lafayette.There he stopped, breathless and panting. He was quitealone; on one side was the vast wilderness of theSaint-Lazare, on the other, Paris enshrouded in darkness."Am I to be captured?" he cried; "no, not if I can use moreactivity than my enemies. My safety is now a mere questionof speed." At this moment he saw a cab at the top of theFaubourg Poissonniere. The dull driver, smoking his pipe,was plodding along toward the limits of the FaubourgSaint-Denis, where no doubt he ordinarily had his station."Ho, friend!" said Benedetto.

"What do you want, sir?" asked the driver.

"Is your horse tired?"

"Tired? oh, yes, tired enough - he has done nothing thewhole of this blessed day! Four wretched fares, and twentysous over, making in all seven francs, are all that I haveearned, and I ought to take ten to the owner."

"Will you add these twenty francs to the seven you have?"

"With pleasure, sir; twenty francs are not to be despised.Tell me what I am to do for this."

"A very easy thing, if your horse isn't tired."

"I tell you he'll go like the wind, - only tell me whichway to drive."

"Towards the Louvres."

"Ah, I know the way - you get good sweetened rum overthere."

"Exactly so; I merely wish to overtake one of my friends,with whom I am going to hunt to-morrow atChapelle-en-Serval. He should have waited for me here with acabriolet till half-past eleven; it is twelve, and, tired ofwaiting, he must have gone on."

"It is likely."

"Well, will you try and overtake him?"

"Nothing I should like better."

"If you do not overtake him before we reach Bourget youshall have twenty francs; if not before Louvres, thirty."

"And if we do overtake him?"

"Forty," said Andrea, after a moment's hesitation, at theend of which he remembered that he might safely promise."That's all right," said the man; "hop in, and we're off!Who-o-o-p, la!"

Andrea got into the cab, which passed rapidly through theFaubourg Saint-Denis, along the Faubourg Saint-Martin,crossed the barrier, and threaded its way through theinterminable Villette. They never overtook the chimericalfriend, yet Andrea frequently inquired of people on footwhom he passed and at the inns which were not yet closed,for a green cabriolet and bay horse; and as there are agreat many cabriolets to be seen on the road to the LowCountries, and as nine-tenths of them are green, theinquiries increased at every step. Every one had just seenit pass; it was only five hundred, two hundred, one hundredsteps in advance; at length they reached it, but it was notthe friend. Once the cab was also passed by a calash rapidlywhirled along by two post-horses. "Ah," said Cavalcanti tohimself, "if I only had that britzska, those two goodpost-horses, and above all the passport that carries themon!" And he sighed deeply. The calash contained MademoiselleDanglars and Mademoiselle d'Armilly. "Hurry, hurry!" saidAndrea, "we must overtake him soon." And the poor horseresumed the desperate gallop it had kept up since leavingthe barrier, and arrived steaming at Louvres.

"Certainly," said Andrea, "I shall not overtake my friend,but I shall kill your horse, therefore I had better stop.Here are thirty francs; I will sleep at the Red Horse, andwill secure a place in the first coach. Good-night, friend."And Andrea, after placing six pieces of five francs each inthe man's hand, leaped lightly on to the pathway. The cabmanjoyfully pocketed the sum, and turned back on his road toParis. Andrea pretended to go towards the Red Horse inn, butafter leaning an instant against the door, and hearing thelast sound of the cab, which was disappearing from view, hewent on his road, and with a lusty stride soon traversed thespace of two leagues. Then he rested; he must be nearChapelle-en-Serval, where he pretended to be going. It wasnot fatigue that stayed Andrea here; it was that he mightform some resolution, adopt some plan. It would beimpossible to make use of a diligence, equally so to engagepost-horses; to travel either way a passport was necessary.It was still more impossible to remain in the department ofthe Oise, one of the most open and strictly guarded inFrance; this was quite out of the question, especially to aman like Andrea, perfectly conversant with criminal matters.

He sat down by the side of the moat, buried his face in hishands and reflected. Ten minutes after he raised his head;his resolution was made. He threw some dust over thetopcoat, which he had found time to unhook from theante-chamber and button over his ball costume, and going toChapelle-en-Serval he knocked loudly at the door of the onlyinn in the place. The host opened. "My friend," said Andrea,"I was coming from Montefontaine to Senlis, when my horse,which is a troublesome creature, stumbled and threw me. Imust reach Compiegne to-night, or I shall cause deep anxietyto my family. Could you let me hire a horse of you?"

An inn-keeper has always a horse to let, whether it be goodor bad. The host called the stable-boy, and ordered him tosaddle "Whitey," then he awoke his son, a child of sevenyears, whom he ordered to ride before the gentleman andbring back the horse. Andrea gave the inn-keeper twentyfrancs, and in taking them from his pocket dropped avisiting card. This belonged to one of his friends at theCafe de Paris, so that the innkeeper, picking it up afterAndrea had left, was convinced that he had let his horse tothe Count of Mauleon, 25 Rue Saint-Dominique, that being thename and address on the card. "Whitey" was not a fastanimal, but he kept up an easy, steady pace; in three hoursand a half Andrea had traversed the nine leagues whichseparated him from Compiegne, and four o'clock struck as hereached the place where the coaches stop. There is anexcellent tavern at Compiegne, well remembered by those whohave ever been there. Andrea, who had often stayed there inhis rides about Paris, recollected the Bell and Bottle inn;he turned around, saw the sign by the light of a reflectedlamp, and having dismissed the child, giving him all thesmall coin he had about him, he began knocking at the door,very reasonably concluding that having now three or fourhours before him he had best fortify himself against thefatigues of the morrow by a sound sleep and a good supper. Awaiter opened the door.

"My friend," said Andrea, "I have been dining atSaint-Jean-au-Bois, and expected to catch the coach whichpasses by at midnight, but like a fool I have lost my way,and have been walking for the last four hours in the forest.Show me into one of those pretty little rooms which overlookthe court, and bring me a cold fowl and a bottle ofBordeaux." The waiter had no suspicions; Andrea spoke withperfect composure, he had a cigar in his mouth, and hishands in the pocket of his top coat; his clothes werefashionably made, his chin smooth, his boots irreproachable;he looked merely as if he had stayed out very late, that wasall. While the waiter was preparing his room, the hostessarose; Andrea assumed his most charming smile, and asked ifhe could have No. 3, which he had occupied on his last stayat Compiegne. Unfortunately, No. 3 was engaged by a youngman who was travelling with his sister. Andrea appeared indespair, but consoled himself when the hostess assured himthat No. 7, prepared for him, was situated precisely thesame as No. 3, and while warming his feet and chatting aboutthe last races at Chantilly, he waited until they announcedhis room to be ready.

Andrea had not spoken without cause of the pretty roomslooking out upon the court of the Bell Tavern, which withits triple galleries like those of a theatre, with thejessamine and clematis twining round the light columns,forms one of the prettiest entrances to an inn that you canimagine. The fowl was tender, the wine old, the fire clearand sparkling, and Andrea was surprised to find himselfeating with as good an appetite as though nothing hadhappened. Then be went to bed and almost immediately fellinto that deep sleep which is sure to visit men of twentyyears of age, even when they are torn with remorse. Now,here we are obliged to own that Andrea ought to have feltremorse, but that he did not. This was the plan which hadappealed to him to afford the best chance of his security.Before daybreak he would awake, leave the inn afterrigorously paying his bill, and reaching the forest, hewould, under presence of making studies in painting, testthe hospitality of some peasants, procure himself the dressof a woodcutter and a hatchet, casting off the lion's skinto assume that of the woodman; then, with his hands coveredwith dirt, his hair darkened by means of a leaden comb, hiscomplexion embrowned with a preparation for which one of hisold comrades had given him the recipe, he intended, byfollowing the wooded districts, to reach the nearestfrontier, walking by night and sleeping in the day in theforests and quarries, and only entering inhabited regions tobuy a loaf from time to time.

Once past the frontier, Andrea proposed making money of hisdiamonds; and by uniting the proceeds to ten bank-notes healways carried about with him in case of accident, he wouldthen find himself possessor of about 50,000 livres, which hephilosophically considered as no very deplorable conditionafter all. Moreover, he reckoned much on the interest of theDanglars to hush up the rumor of their own misadventures.These were the reasons which, added to the fatigue, causedAndrea to sleep so soundly. In order that he might awakenearly he did not close the shutters, but contented himselfwith bolting the door and placing on the table an unclaspedand long-pointed knife, whose temper he well knew, and whichwas never absent from him. About seven in the morning Andreawas awakened by a ray of sunlight, which played, warm andbrilliant, upon his face. In all well-organized brains, thepredominating idea - and there always is one - is sure tobe the last thought before sleeping, and the first uponwaking in the morning. Andrea had scarcely opened his eyeswhen his predominating idea presented itself, and whisperedin his ear that he had slept too long. He jumped out of bedand ran to the window. A gendarme was crossing the court. Agendarme is one of the most striking objects in the world,even to a man void of uneasiness; but for one who has atimid conscience, and with good cause too, the yellow, blue,and white uniform is really very alarming.

"Why is that gendarme there?" asked Andrea of himself. Then,all at once, he replied, with that logic which the readerhas, doubtless, remarked in him, "There is nothingastonishing in seeing a gendarme at an inn; instead of beingastonished, let me dress myself." And the youth dressedhimself with a facility his valet de chambre had failed torob him of during the two months of fashionable life he hadled in Paris. "Now then," said Andrea, while dressinghimself, "I'll wait till he leaves, and then I'll slipaway." And, saying this, Andrea, who had now put on hisboots and cravat, stole gently to the window, and a secondtime lifted up the muslin curtain. Not only was the firstgendarme still there, but the young man now perceived asecond yellow, blue, and white uniform at the foot of thestaircase, the only one by which he could descend, while athird, on horseback, holding a musket in his fist, wasposted as a sentinel at the great street door which aloneafforded the means of egress.

The appearance of the third gendarme settled the matter, fora crowd of curious loungers was extended before him,effectually blocking the entrance to the hotel. "They'reafter me!" was Andrea's first thought. "The devil!" A palloroverspread the young man's forehead, and he looked aroundhim with anxiety. His room, like all those on the samefloor, had but one outlet to the gallery in the sight ofeverybody. "I am lost!" was his second thought; and, indeed,for a man in Andrea's situation, an arrest meant theassizes, trial, and death, - death without mercy or delay.For a moment he convulsively pressed his head within hishands, and during that brief period he became nearly madwith terror; but soon a ray of hope glimmered in themultitude of thoughts which bewildered his mind, and a faintsmile played upon his white lips and pallid cheeks. Helooked around and saw the objects of his search upon thechimney-piece; they were a pen, ink, and paper. With forcedcomposure he dipped the pen in the ink, and wrote thefollowing lines upon a sheet of paper: -

"I have no money to pay my bill, but I am not a dishonestman; I leave behind me as a pledge this pin, worth ten timesthe amount. I shall be excused for leaving at daybreak, forI was ashamed."

He then drew the pin from his cravat and placed it on thepaper. This done, instead of leaving the door fastened, hedrew back the bolts and even placed the door ajar, as thoughhe had left the room, forgetting to close it, and slippinginto the chimney like a man accustomed to that kind ofgymnastic exercise, having effaced the marks of his feetupon the floor, he commenced climbing the only opening whichafforded him the means of escape. At this precise time, thefirst gendarme Andrea had noticed walked up-stairs, precededby the commissary of police, and supported by the secondgendarme who guarded the staircase and was himselfre-enforced by the one stationed at the door.

Andrea was indebted for this visit to the followingcircumstances. At daybreak, the telegraphs were set at workin all directions, and almost immediately the authorities inevery district had exerted their utmost endeavors to arrestthe murderer of Caderousse. Compiegne, that royal residenceand fortified town, is well furnished with authorities,gendarmes, and commissaries of police; they therefore beganoperations as soon as the telegraphic despatch arrived, andthe Bell and Bottle being the best-known hotel in the town,they had naturally directed their first inquiries there.

Now, besides the reports of the sentinels guarding the Hotelde Ville, which is next door to the Bell and Bottle, it hadbeen stated by others that a number of travellers hadarrived during the night. The sentinel who was relieved atsix o'clock in the morning, remembered perfectly that justas he was taking his post a few minutes past four a youngman arrived on horseback, with a little boy before him. Theyoung man, having dismissed the boy and horse, knocked atthe door of the hotel, which was opened, and again closedafter his entrance. This late arrival had attracted muchsuspicion, and the young man being no other than Andrea, thecommissary and gendarme, who was a brigadier, directed theirsteps towards his room.

They found the door ajar. "Oh, ho," said the brigadier, whothoroughly understood the trick; "a bad sign to find thedoor open! I would rather find it triply bolted." And,indeed, the little note and pin upon the table confirmed, orrather corroborated, the sad truth. Andrea had fled. We saycorroborated, because the brigadier was too experienced tobe convinced by a single proof. He glanced around, looked inthe bed, shook the curtains, opened the closets, and finallystopped at the chimney. Andrea had taken the precaution toleave no traces of his feet in the ashes, but still it wasan outlet, and in this light was not to be passed overwithout serious investigation.

The brigadier sent for some sticks and straw, and havingfilled the chimney with them, set a light to it. The firecrackled, and the smoke ascended like the dull vapor from avolcano; but still no prisoner fell down, as they expected.The fact was, that Andrea, at war with society ever sincehis youth, was quite as deep as a gendarme, even though hewere advanced to the rank of brigadier, and quite preparedfor the fire, he had climbed out on the roof and wascrouching down against the chimney-pots. At one time hethought he was saved, for he heard the brigadier exclaim ina loud voice, to the two gendarmes, "He is not here!" Butventuring to peep, he perceived that the latter, instead ofretiring, as might have been reasonably expected upon thisannouncement, were watching with increased attention.

It was now his turn to look about him; the Hotel de Ville, amassive sixteenth century building, was on his right; anyone could descend from the openings in the tower, andexamine every corner of the roof below, and Andrea expectedmomentarily to see the head of a gendarme appear at one ofthese openings. If once discovered, he knew he would belost, for the roof afforded no chance of escape; hetherefore resolved to descend, not through the same chimneyby which he had come up, but by a similar one conducting toanother room. He looked around for a chimney from which nosmoke issued, and having reached it, he disappeared throughthe orifice without being seen by any one. At the sameminute, one of the little windows of the Hotel de Ville wasthrown open, and the head of a gendarme appeared. For aninstant it remained motionless as one of the stonedecorations of the building, then after a long sigh ofdisappointment the head disappeared. The brigadier, calm anddignified as the law he represented, passed through thecrowd, without answering the thousand questions addressed tohim, and re-entered the hotel.

"Well?" asked the two gendarmes.

"Well, my boys," said the brigadier, "the brigand mustreally have escaped early this morning; but we will send tothe Villers-Coterets and Noyon roads, and search the forest,when we shall catch him, no doubt." The honorablefunctionary had scarcely expressed himself thus, in thatintonation which is peculiar to brigadiers of thegendarmerie, when a loud scream, accompanied by the violentringing of a bell, resounded through the court of the hotel."Ah, what is that?" cried the brigadier.

"Some traveller seems impatient," said the host. "Whatnumber was it that rang?"

"Number 3."

"Run, waiter!" At this moment the screams and ringing wereredoubled. "Ah," said the brigadier, stopping the servant,"the person who is ringing appears to want something morethan a waiter; we will attend upon him with a gendarme. Whooccupies Number 3?"

"The little fellow who arrived last night in a post-chaisewith his sister, and who asked for an apartment with twobeds." The bell here rang for the third time, with anothershriek of anguish.

"Follow me, Mr. Commissary!" said the brigadier; "tread inmy steps."

"Wait an instant," said the host; "Number 3 has twostaircases, - inside and outside."

"Good," said the brigadier. "I will take charge of theinside one. Are the carbines loaded?"

"Yes, brigadier."

"Well, you guard the exterior, and if he attempts to fly,fire upon him; he must be a great criminal, from what thetelegraph says."

The brigadier, followed by the commissary, disappeared bythe inside staircase, accompanied by the noise which hisassertions respecting Andrea had excited in the crowd. Thisis what had happened. Andrea had very cleverly managed todescend two-thirds of the chimney, but then his footslipped, and notwithstanding his endeavors, he came into theroom with more speed and noise than he intended. It wouldhave signified little had the room been empty, butunfortunately it was occupied. Two ladies, sleeping in onebed, were awakened by the noise, and fixing their eyes uponthe spot whence the sound proceeded, they saw a man. One ofthese ladies, the fair one, uttered those terrible shriekswhich resounded through the house, while the other, rushingto the bell-rope, rang with all her strength. Andrea, as wecan see, was surrounded by misfortune.

"For pity's sake," he cried, pale and bewildered, withoutseeing whom he was addressing, - "for pity's sake do notcall assistance! Save me! - I will not harm you."

"Andrea, the murderer!" cried one of the ladies.

"Eugenie! Mademoiselle Danglars!" exclaimed Andrea,stupefied.

"Help, help!" cried Mademoiselle d'Armilly, taking the bellfrom her companion's hand, and ringing it yet moreviolently. "Save me, I am pursued!" said Andrea, claspinghis hands. "For pity, for mercy's sake do not deliver meup!"

"It is too late, they are coming," said Eugenie.

"Well, conceal me somewhere; you can say you were needlesslyalarmed; you can turn their suspicions and save my life!"

The two ladies, pressing closely to one another, and drawingthe bedclothes tightly around them, remained silent to thissupplicating voice, repugnance and fear taking possession oftheir minds.

"Well, be it so," at length said Eugenie; "return by thesame road you came, and we will say nothing about you,unhappy wretch."

"Here he is, here he is!" cried a voice from the landing;"here he is! I see him!" The brigadier had put his eye tothe keyhole, and had discovered Andrea in a posture ofentreaty. A violent blow from the butt end of the musketburst open the lock, two more forced out the bolts, and thebroken door fell in. Andrea ran to the other door, leadingto the gallery, ready to rush out; but he was stopped short,and he stood with his body a little thrown back, pale, andwith the useless knife in his clinched hand.

"Fly, then!" cried Mademoiselle d'Armilly, whose pityreturned as her fears diminished; "fly!"

"Or kill yourself!" said Eugenie (in a tone which a Vestalin the amphitheatre would have used, when urging thevictorious gladiator to finish his vanquished adversary).Andrea shuddered, and looked on the young girl with anexpression which proved how little he understood suchferocious honor. "Kill myself?" he cried, throwing down hisknife; "why should I do so?"

"Why, you said," answered Mademoiselle Danglars, "that youwould be condemned to die like the worst criminals."

"Bah," said Cavalcanti, crossing his arms, "one hasfriends."

The brigadier advanced to him, sword in hand. "Come, come,"said Andrea, "sheathe your sword, my fine fellow; there isno occasion to make such a fuss, since I give myself up;"and he held out his hands to be manacled. The girls lookedwith horror upon this shameful metamorphosis, the man of theworld shaking off his covering and appearing as agalley-slave. Andrea turned towards them, and with animpertinent smile asked, - "Have you any message for yourfather, Mademoiselle Danglars, for in all probability Ishall return to Paris?"

Eugenie covered her face with her hands. "Oh, ho!" saidAndrea, "you need not be ashamed, even though you did postafter me. Was I not nearly your husband?"

And with this raillery Andrea went out, leaving the twogirls a prey to their own feelings of shame, and to thecomments of the crowd. An hour after they stepped into theircalash, both dressed in feminine attire. The gate of thehotel had been closed to screen them from sight, but theywere forced, when the door was open, to pass through athrong of curious glances and whispering voices. Eugenieclosed her eyes; but though she could not see, she couldhear, and the sneers of the crowd reached her in thecarriage. "Oh, why is not the world a wilderness?" sheexclaimed, throwing herself into the arms of Mademoiselled'Armilly, her eyes sparkling with the same kind of ragewhich made Nero wish that the Roman world had but one neck,that he might sever it at a single blow. The next day theystopped at the Hotel de Flandre, at Brussels. The sameevening Andrea was incarcerated in the Conciergerie.