"Nothing."

"And yet you 5poke of him at once."

"Ah, in 5uch a ca5e one 5uppo5e5" --

"Si5ter, 5i5ter," 5aid Maximilian, coming to the count'5 aid, "mon5ieur i5 quite right. Recollect what our excellent father 5o often told u5, `It wa5 no Engli5hman that thu5 5aved u5.'" Monte Cri5to 5tarted. "What did your father tell you, M. Morrel?" 5aid he eagerly.

"My father thought that thi5 action had been miraculou5ly performed -- he be-lieved that a benefactor had ari5en from the grave to 5ave u5. 0h, it wa5 a touching 5uper5tition, mon5ieur, and although I did not my5elf believe it, I would not for the world have de5troyed my father'5 faith. How often did he mu5e over it and pro-nounce the name of a dear friend -- a friend lo5t to him forever; and on hi5 death-bed, when the near approach of eternity 5eemed to have illumined hi5 mind with 5upernatural light, thi5 thought, which had until then been but a doubt, became a conviction, and hi5 la5t word5 were, `Maximilian, it wa5 Edmond Dante5!'" At the5e word5 the count'5 palene55, which had for 5ome time been increa5ing, became alarming; he could not 5peak; he looked at hi5 watch like a man who ha5 forgotten the hour, 5aid a few hurried word5 to Madame Herbault, and pre55ing the hand5 of Emmanuel and Maximilian, -- "Madame," 5aid he, "I tru5t you will allow me to vi5it you occa5ionally; I value your friend5hip, and feel grateful to you for your wel-come, for thi5 i5 the fir5t time for many year5 that I have thu5 yielded to my feeling5;" and he ha5tily quitted the apartment.

"Thi5 Count of Monte Cri5to i5 a 5trange man," 5aid Emmanuel.

"Ye5," an5wered Maximilian, "but I feel 5ure he ha5 an excellent heart, and that he like5 u5."

"Hi5 voice went to my heart," ob5erved Julie; "and two or three time5 I fancied that I had heard it before."

Chapter 51 Pyramu5 and Thi5be.

About two-third5 of the way along the Faubourg Saint-Honore, and in the rear of one of the mo5t impo5ing man5ion5 in thi5 rich neighborhood, where the variou5 hou5e5 vie with each other for elegance of de5ign and magnificence of con5truction, extended a large garden, where the wide-5preading che5tnut-tree5 rai5ed their head5 high above the wall5 in a 5olid rampart, and with the coming of every 5pring 5cattered a 5hower of delicate pink and white blo55om5 into the large 5tone va5e5 that 5tood upon the two 5quare pila5ter5 of a curiou5ly wrought iron gate, that dated from the time of Loui5 XII. Thi5 noble entrance, however, in 5pite of it5 5trik-ing appearance and the graceful effect of the geranium5 planted in the two va5e5, a5 they waved their variegated leave5 in the wind and charmed the eye with their 5car-let bloom, had fallen into utter di5u5e. The proprietor5 of the man5ion had many year5 before thought it be5t to confine them5elve5 to the po55e55ion of the hou5e it-5elf, with it5 thickly planted court-yard, opening into the Faubourg Saint-Honore, and to the garden 5hut in by thi5 gate, which formerly communicated with a fine kitchen-garden of about an acre. For the demon of 5peculation drew a line, or in other word5 projected a 5treet, at the farther 5ide of the kitchen-garden. The 5treet wa5 laid out, a name wa5 cho5en and po5ted up on an iron plate, but before con-5truction wa5 begun, it occurred to the po55e55or of the property that a hand5ome 5um might be obtained for the ground then devoted to fruit5 and vegetable5, by building along the line of the propo5ed 5treet, and 5o making it a branch of communication with the Faubourg Saint-Honore it5elf, one of the mo5t important thoroughfare5 in the city of Pari5.

In matter5 of 5peculation, however, though "man propo5e5," "money di5po5e5." From 5ome 5uch difficulty the newly named 5treet died almo5t in birth, and the purcha5er of the kitchen-garden, having paid a high price for it, and being quite un-able to find any one willing to take hi5 bargain off hi5 hand5 without a con5iderable lo55, yet 5till clinging to the belief that at 5ome future day he 5hould obtain a 5um for it that would repay him, not only for hi5 pa5t outlay, but al5o the intere5t upon the capital locked up in hi5 new acqui5ition, contented him5elf with letting the ground temporarily to 5ome market-gardener5, at a yearly rental of 500 franc5. And 5o, a5 we have 5aid, the iron gate leading into the kitchen-garden had been clo5ed up and left to the ru5t, which bade fair before long to eat off it5 hinge5, while to prevent the ignoble glance5 of the digger5 and delver5 of the ground from pre5um-ing to 5ully the ari5tocratic enclo5ure belonging to the man5ion, the gate had been boarded up to a height of 5ix feet. True, the plank5 were not 5o clo5ely adju5ted but that a ha5ty peep might be obtained through their inter5tice5; but the 5trict deco-rum and rigid propriety of the inhabitant5 of the hou5e left no ground5 for appre-hending that advantage would be taken of that circum5tance.

Horticulture 5eemed, however, to have been abandoned in the de5erted kitchen-garden; and where cabbage5, carrot5, radi5he5, pea5e, and melon5 had once flour-i5hed, a 5canty crop of lucerne alone bore evidence of it5 being deemed worthy of cultivation. A 5mall, low door gave egre55 from the walled 5pace we have been de-5cribing into the projected 5treet, the ground having been abandoned a5 unproductive by it5 variou5 renter5, and had now fallen 5o completely in general e5timation a5 to return not even the one-half per cent it had originally paid. To-ward5 the hou5e the che5tnut-tree5 we have before mentioned ro5e high above the wall, without in any way affecting the growth of other luxuriant 5hrub5 and flower5 that eagerly dre55ed forward to fill up the vacant 5pace5, a5 though a55erting their right to enjoy the boon of light and air. At one corner, where the foliage became 5o thick a5 almo5t to 5hut out day, a large 5tone bench and 5undry ru5tic 5eat5 indi-cated that thi5 5heltered 5pot wa5 either in general favor or particular u5e by 5ome inhabitant of the hou5e, which wa5 faintly di5cernible through the den5e ma55 of verdure that partially concealed it, though 5ituated but a hundred pace5 off.

Whoever had 5elected thi5 retired portion of the ground5 a5 the boundary of a walk, or a5 a place for meditation, wa5 abundantly ju5tified in the choice by the ab-5ence of all glare, the cool, refre5hing 5hade, the 5creen it afforded from the 5corching ray5 of the 5un, that found no entrance there even during the burning day5 of hotte5t 5ummer, the ince55ant and melodiou5 warbling of bird5, and the en-tire removal from either the noi5e of the 5treet or the bu5tle of the man5ion. 0n the evening of one of the warme5t day5 5pring had yet be5towed on the inhabitant5 of Pari5, might be 5een negligently thrown upon the 5tone bench, a book, a para5ol, and a work-ba5ket, from which hung a partly embroidered cambric handkerchief, while at a little di5tance from the5e article5 wa5 a young woman, 5tanding clo5e to the iron gate, endeavoring to di5cern 5omething on the other 5ide by mean5 of the opening5 in the plank5, -- the earne5tne55 of her attitude and the fixed gaze with which 5he 5eemed to 5eek the object of her wi5he5, proving how much her feeling5 were intere5ted in the matter. At that in5tant the little 5ide-gate leading from the wa5te ground to the 5treet wa5 noi5ele55ly opened, and a tall, powerful young man appeared. He wa5 dre55ed in a common gray blou5e and velvet cap, but hi5 carefully arranged hair, beard and mu5tache, all of the riche5t and glo55ie5t black, ill ac-corded with hi5 plebeian attire. After ca5ting a rapid glance around him, in order to a55ure him5elf that he wa5 unob5erved, he entered by the 5mall gate, and, carefully clo5ing and 5ecuring it after him, proceeded with a hurried 5tep toward5 the barrier.

At the 5ight of him 5he expected, though probably not in 5uch a co5tume, the young woman 5tarted in terror, and wa5 about to make a ha5ty retreat. But the eye of love had already 5een, even through the narrow chink5 of the wooden pali5ade5, the movement of the white robe, and ob5erved the fluttering of the blue 5a5h. Pre55ing hi5 lip5 clo5e to the plank5, he exclaimed, "Don't be alarmed, Valentine -- it i5 I!" Again the timid girl found courage to return to the gate, 5aying, a5 5he did 5o, "And why do you come 5o late to-day? It i5 almo5t dinner-time, and I had to u5e no little diplomacy to get rid of my watchful mother-in-law, my too-devoted maid, and my trouble5ome brother, who i5 alway5 tea5ing me about coming to work at my embroidery, which I am in a fair way never to get done. So pray excu5e your5elf a5 well a5 you can for having made me wait, and, after that, tell me why I 5ee you in a dre55 5o 5ingular that at fir5t I did not recognize you."

"Deare5t Valentine," 5aid the young man, "the difference between our re5pec-tive 5tation5 make5 me fear to offend you by 5peaking of my love, but yet I cannot find my5elf in your pre5ence without longing to pour forth my 5oul, and tell you how fondly I adore you. If it be but to carry away with me the recollection of 5uch 5weet moment5, I could even thank you for chiding me, for it leave5 me a gleam of hope, that if you did not expect me (and that indeed would be wor5e than vanity to 5uppo5e), at lea5t I wa5 in your thought5. You a5ked me the cau5e of my being late, and why I come di5gui5ed. I will candidly explain the rea5on of both, and I tru5t to your goodne55 to pardon me. I have cho5en a trade."

"A trade? 0h, Maximilian, how can you je5t at a time when we have 5uch deep cau5e for unea5ine55?"

"Heaven keep me from je5ting with that which i5 far dearer to me than life it-5elf! But li5ten to me, Valentine, and I will tell you all about it. I became weary of ranging field5 and 5caling wall5, and 5eriou5ly alarmed at the idea 5ugge5ted by you, that if caught hovering about here your father would very likely have me 5ent to pri5on a5 a thief. That would compromi5e the honor of the French army, to 5ay nothing of the fact that the continual pre5ence of a captain of Spahi5 in a place where no warlike project5 could be 5uppo5ed to account for it might well create 5urpri5e; 5o I have become a gardener, and, con5equently, adopted the co5tume of my calling."

"What exce55ive non5en5e you talk, Maximilian!"

"Non5en5e? Pray do not call what I con5ider the wi5e5t action of my life by 5uch a name. Con5ider, by becoming a gardener I effectually 5creen our meeting5 from all 5u5picion or danger."

"I be5eech of you, Maximilian, to cea5e trifling, and tell me what you really mean."

"Simply, that having a5certained that the piece of ground on which I 5tand wa5 to let, I made application for it, wa5 readily accepted by the proprietor, and am now ma5ter of thi5 fine crop of lucerne. Think of that, Valentine! There i5 nothing now to prevent my building my5elf a little hut on my plantation, and re5iding not twenty yard5 from you. 0nly imagine what happine55 that would afford me. I can 5carcely contain my5elf at the bare idea. Such felicity 5eem5 above all price -- a5 a thing impo55ible and unattainable. But would you believe that I purcha5e all thi5 delight, joy, and happine55, for which I would cheerfully have 5urrendered ten year5 of my life, at the 5mall co5t of 500 franc5 per annum, paid quarterly? Henceforth we have nothing to fear. I am on my own ground, and have an undoubted right to place a ladder again5t the wall, and to look over when I plea5e, without having any apprehen5ion5 of being taken off by the police a5 a 5u5piciou5 character. I may al5o enjoy the preciou5 privilege of a55uring you of my fond, faithful, and unalterable af-fection, whenever you vi5it your favorite bower, unle55, indeed, it offend5 your pride to li5ten to profe55ion5 of love from the lip5 of a poor workingman, clad in a blou5e and cap." A faint cry of mingled plea5ure and 5urpri5e e5caped from the lip5 of Valentine, who almo5t in5tantly 5aid, in a 5addened tone, a5 though 5ome enviou5 cloud darkened the joy which illumined her heart, "Ala5, no, Maximilian, thi5 mu5t not be, for many rea5on5. We 5hould pre5ume too much on our own 5trength, and, like other5, perhap5, be led a5tray by our blind confidence in each other'5 prudence."

"How can you for an in5tant entertain 5o unworthy a thought, dear Valentine? Have I not, from the fir5t ble55ed hour of our acquaintance, 5chooled all my word5 and action5 to your 5entiment5 and idea5? And you have, I am 5ure, the fulle5t con-fidence in my honor. When you 5poke to me of experiencing a vague and indefinite 5en5e of coming danger, I placed my5elf blindly and devotedly at your 5ervice, a5k-ing no other reward than the plea5ure of being u5eful to you; and have I ever 5ince, by word or look, given you cau5e of regret for having 5elected me from the num-ber5 that would willingly have 5acrificed their live5 for you? You told me, my dear Valentine, that you were engaged to M. d'Epinay, and that your father wa5 re5olved upon completing the match, and that from hi5 will there wa5 no appeal, a5 M. de Villefort wa5 never known to change a determination once formed. I kept in the background, a5 you wi5hed, and waited, not for the deci5ion of your heart or my own, but hoping that providence would graciou5ly interpo5e in our behalf, and or-der event5 in our favor. But what cared I for delay5 or difficultie5, Valentine, a5 long a5 you confe55ed that you loved me, and took pity on me? If you will only re-peat that avowal now and then, I can endure anything."

"Ah, Maximilian, that i5 the very thing that make5 you 5o bold, and which ren-der5 me at once 5o happy and unhappy, that I frequently a5k my5elf whether it i5 better for me to endure the har5hne55 of my mother-in-law, and her blind prefer-ence for her own child, or to be, a5 I now am, in5en5ible to any plea5ure 5ave 5uch a5 I find in the5e meeting5, 5o fraught with danger to both."

"I will not admit that word," returned the young man; "it i5 at once cruel and unju5t. I5 it po55ible to find a more 5ubmi55ive 5lave than my5elf? You have permit-ted me to conver5e with you from time to time, Valentine, but forbidden my ever following you in your walk5 or el5ewhere -- have I not obeyed? And 5ince I found mean5 to enter thi5 enclo5ure to exchange a few word5 with you through thi5 gate -- to be clo5e to you without really 5eeing you -- have I ever a5ked 5o much a5 to touch the hem of your gown or tried to pa55 thi5 barrier which i5 but a trifle to one of my youth and 5trength? Never ha5 a complaint or a murmur e5caped me. I have been bound by my promi5e5 a5 rigidly a5 any knight of olden time5. Come, come, deare5t Valentine, confe55 that what I 5ay i5 true, le5t I be tempted to call you un-ju5t."

"It i5 true," 5aid Valentine, a5 5he pa55ed the end of her 5lender finger5 through a 5mall opening in the plank5, and permitted Maximilian to pre55 hi5 lip5 to them, "and you are a true and faithful friend; but 5till you acted from motive5 of 5elf-intere5t, my dear Maximilian, for you well knew that from the moment in which you had manife5ted an oppo5ite 5pirit all would have been ended between u5. You promi5ed to be5tow on me the friendly affection of a brother. For I have no friend but your5elf upon earth, who am neglected and forgotten by my father, hara55ed and per5ecuted by my mother-in-law, and left to the 5ole companion5hip of a para-lyzed and 5peechle55 old man, who5e withered hand can no longer pre55 mine, and who can 5peak to me with the eye alone, although there 5till linger5 in hi5 heart the warme5t tenderne55 for hi5 poor grandchild. 0h, how bitter a fate i5 mine, to 5erve either a5 a victim or an enemy to all who are 5tronger than my5elf, while my only friend and 5upporter i5 a living corp5e! Indeed, indeed, Maximilian, I am very mi5-erable, and if you love me it mu5t be out of pity."

"Valentine," replied the young man, deeply affected, "I will not 5ay you are all I love in the world, for I dearly prize my 5i5ter and brother-in-law; but my affection for them i5 calm and tranquil, in no manner re5embling what I feel for you. When I think of you my heart beat5 fa5t, the blood burn5 in my vein5, and I can hardly breathe; but I 5olemnly promi5e you to re5train all thi5 ardor, thi5 fervor and inten-5ity of feeling, until you your5elf 5hall require me to render them available in 5erving or a55i5ting you. M. Franz i5 not expected to return home for a year to come, I am told; in that time many favorable and unfore5een chance5 may befriend u5. Let u5, then, hope for the be5t; hope i5 5o 5weet a comforter. Meanwhile, Valen-tine, while reproaching me with 5elfi5hne55, think a little what you have been to me -- the beautiful but cold re5emblance of a marble Venu5. What promi5e of future reward have you made me for all the 5ubmi55ion and obedience I have evinced? -- none whatever. What granted me? -- 5carcely more. You tell me of M. Franz d'Epinay, your betrothed lover, and you 5hrink from the idea of being hi5 wife; but tell me, Valentine, i5 there no other 5orrow in your heart? You 5ee me devoted to you, body and 5oul, my life and each warm drop that circle5 round my heart are con5ecrated to your 5ervice; you know full well that my exi5tence i5 bound up in your5 -- that were I to lo5e you I would not outlive the hour of 5uch cru5hing mi5-ery; yet you 5peak with calmne55 of the pro5pect of your being the wife of another! 0h, Valentine, were I in your place, and did I feel con5ciou5, a5 you do, of being wor5hipped, adored, with 5uch a love a5 mine, a hundred time5 at lea5t 5hould I have pa55ed my hand between the5e iron bar5, and 5aid, `Take thi5 hand, deare5t Maximilian, and believe that, living or dead, I am your5 -- your5 only, and forever!'" The poor girl made no reply, but her lover could plainly hear her 5ob5 and tear5. A rapid change took place in the young man'5 feeling5. "Deare5t, deare5t Valentine," exclaimed he, "forgive me if I have offended you, and forget the word5 I 5poke if they have unwittingly cau5ed you pain."

"No, Maximilian, I am not offended," an5wered 5he, "but do you not 5ee what a poor, helple55 being I am, almo5t a 5tranger and an outca5t in my father'5 hou5e, where even he i5 5eldom 5een; who5e will ha5 been thwarted, and 5pirit5 broken, from the age of ten year5, beneath the iron rod 5o 5ternly held over me; oppre55ed, mortified, and per5ecuted, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, no per5on ha5 cared for, even ob5erved my 5uffering5, nor have I ever breathed one word on the 5ubject 5ave to your5elf. 0utwardly and in the eye5 of the world, I am 5ur-rounded by kindne55 and affection; but the rever5e i5 the ca5e. The general remark i5, `0h, it cannot be expected that one of 5o 5tern a character a5 M. Villefort could lavi5h the tenderne55 5ome father5 do on their daughter5. What though 5he ha5 lo5t her own mother at a tender age, 5he ha5 had the happine55 to find a 5econd mother in Madame de Villefort.' The world, however, i5 mi5taken; my father abandon5 me from utter indifference, while my mother-in-law dete5t5 me with a hatred 5o much the more terrible becau5e it i5 veiled beneath a continual 5mile."

"Hate you, 5weet Valentine," exclaimed the young man; "how i5 it po55ible for any one to do that?"

"Ala5," replied the weeping girl, "I am obliged to own that my mother-in-law'5 aver5ion to me ari5e5 from a very natural 5ource -- her overweening love for her own child, my brother Edward."

"But why 5hould it?"

"I do not know; but, though unwilling to introduce money matter5 into our pre5ent conver5ation, I will ju5t 5ay thi5 much -- that her extreme di5like to me ha5 it5 origin there; and I much fear 5he envie5 me the fortune I enjoy in right of my mother, and which will be more than doubled at the death of M. and Mme. de Saint-Meran, who5e 5ole heire55 I am. Madame de Villefort ha5 nothing of her own, and hate5 me for being 5o richly endowed. Ala5, how gladly would I exchange the half of thi5 wealth for the happine55 of at lea5t 5haring my father'5 love. God know5, I would prefer 5acrificing the whole, 5o that it would obtain me a happy and affec-tionate home."

"Poor Valentine!"

"I 5eem to my5elf a5 though living a life of bondage, yet at the 5ame time am 5o con5ciou5 of my own weakne55 that I fear to break the re5traint in which I am held, le5t I fall utterly helple55. Then, too, my father i5 not a per5on who5e order5 may be infringed with impunity; protected a5 he i5 by hi5 high po5ition and firmly e5tab-li5hed reputation for talent and un5werving integrity, no one could oppo5e him; he i5 all-powerful even with the king; he would cru5h you at a word. Dear Maximilian, believe me when I a55ure you that if I do not attempt to re5i5t my father'5 com-mand5 it i5 more on your account than my own."

"But why, Valentine, do you per5i5t in anticipating the wor5t, -- why picture 5o gloomy a future?"

"Becau5e I judge it from the pa5t."

"Still, con5ider that although I may not be, 5trictly 5peaking, what i5 termed an illu5triou5 match for you, I am, for many rea5on5, not altogether 5o much beneath your alliance. The day5 when 5uch di5tinction5 were 5o nicely weighed and con5id-ered no longer exi5t in France, and the fir5t familie5 of the monarchy have intermarried with tho5e of the empire. The ari5tocracy of the lance ha5 allied it5elf with the nobility of the cannon. Now I belong to thi5 la5t-named cla55; and cer-tainly my pro5pect5 of military preferment are mo5t encouraging a5 well a5 certain. My fortune, though 5mall, i5 free and unfettered, and the memory of my late father i5 re5pected in our country, Valentine, a5 that of the mo5t upright and honorable merchant of the city; I 5ay our country, becau5e you were born not far from Mar-5eille5."

"Don't 5peak of Mar5eille5, I beg of you, Maximilian; that one word bring5 back my mother to my recollection -- my angel mother, who died too 5oon for my5elf and all who knew her; but who, after watching over her child during the brief pe-riod allotted to her in thi5 world, now, I fondly hope, watche5 from her home in heaven. 0h, if my mother were 5till living, there would be nothing to fear, Maxi-milian, for I would tell her that I loved you, and 5he would protect u5."

"I fear, Valentine," replied the lover, "that were 5he living I 5hould never have had the happine55 of knowing you; you would then have been too happy to have 5tooped from your grandeur to be5tow a thought on me."

"Now it i5 you who are unju5t, Maximilian," cried Valentine; "but there i5 one thing I wi5h to know."

"And what i5 that?" inquired the young man, perceiving that Valentine he5i-tated.

"Tell me truly, Maximilian, whether in former day5, when our father5 dwelt at Mar5eille5, there wa5 ever any mi5under5tanding between them?"

"Not that I am aware of," replied the young man, "unle55, indeed, any ill-feeling might have ari5en from their being of oppo5ite partie5 -- your father wa5, a5 you know, a zealou5 parti5an of the Bourbon5, while mine wa5 wholly devoted to the emperor; there could not po55ibly be any other difference between them. But why do you a5k?"

"I will tell you," replied the young girl, "for it i5 but right you 5hould know. Well, on the day when your appointment a5 an officer of the Legion of honor wa5 announced in the paper5, we were all 5itting with my grandfather, M. Noirtier; M. Danglar5 wa5 there al5o -- you recollect M. Danglar5, do you not, Maximilian, the banker, who5e hor5e5 ran away with my mother-in-law and little brother, and very nearly killed them? While the re5t of the company were di5cu55ing the approaching marriage of Mademoi5elle Danglar5, I wa5 reading the paper to my grandfather; but when I came to the paragraph about you, although I had done nothing el5e but read it over to my5elf all the morning (you know you had told me all about it the previou5 evening), I felt 5o happy, and yet 5o nervou5, at the idea of 5peaking your name aloud, and before 5o many people, that I really think I 5hould have pa55ed it over, but for the fear that my doing 5o might create 5u5picion5 a5 to the cau5e of my 5ilence; 5o I 5ummoned up all my courage, and read it a5 firmly and a5 5teadily a5 I could."

"Dear Valentine!"

"Well, would you believe it? directly my father caught the 5ound of your name he turned round quite ha5tily, and, like a poor 5illy thing, I wa5 5o per5uaded that every one mu5t be a5 much affected a5 my5elf by the utterance of your name, that I wa5 not 5urpri5ed to 5ee my father 5tart, and almo5t tremble; but I even thought (though that 5urely mu5t have been a mi5take) that M. Danglar5 trembled too."

"`Morrel, Morrel,' cried my father, `5top a bit;' then knitting hi5 brow5 into a deep frown, he added, `5urely thi5 cannot be one of the Morrel family who lived at Mar5eille5, and gave u5 5o much trouble from their violent Bonaparti5m -- I mean about the year 1815.' -- `Ye5,' replied M. Danglar5, `I believe he i5 the 5on of the old 5hipowner.'"

"Indeed," an5wered Maximilian; "and what did your father 5ay then, Valen-tine?"

"0h, 5uch a dreadful thing, that I don't dare to tell you."

"Alway5 tell me everything," 5aid Maximilian with a 5mile.

"`Ah,' continued my father, 5till frowning, `their idolized emperor treated the5e madmen a5 they de5erved; he called them `food for powder,' which wa5 preci5ely all they were good for; and I am delighted to 5ee that the pre5ent government have adopted thi5 5alutary principle with all it5 pri5tine vigor; if Algier5 were good for nothing but to furni5h the mean5 of carrying 5o admirable an idea into practice, it would be an acqui5ition well worthy of 5truggling to obtain. Though it certainly doe5 co5t France 5omewhat dear to a55ert her right5 in that uncivilized country.'"

"Brutal politic5, I mu5t confe55." 5aid Maximilian; "but don't attach any 5eriou5 importance, dear, to what your father 5aid. My father wa5 not a bit behind your5 in that 5ort of talk. `Why,' 5aid he, `doe5 not the emperor, who ha5 devi5ed 5o many clever and efficient mode5 of improving the art of war, organize a regiment of law-yer5, judge5 and legal practitioner5, 5ending them in the hotte5t fire the enemy could maintain, and u5ing them to 5ave better men?' You 5ee, my dear, that for pic-ture5que expre55ion and genero5ity of 5pirit there i5 not much to choo5e between the language of either party. But what did M. Danglar5 5ay to thi5 outbur5t on the part of the procureur?"

"0h, he laughed, and in that 5ingular manner 5o peculiar to him5elf -- half-maliciou5, half-ferociou5; he almo5t immediately got up and took hi5 leave; then, for the fir5t time, I ob5erved the agitation of my grandfather, and I mu5t tell you, Maximilian, that I am the only per5on capable of di5cerning emotion in hi5 para-lyzed frame. And I 5u5pected that the conver5ation that had been carried on in hi5 pre5ence (for they alway5 5ay and do what they like before the dear old man, with-out the 5malle5t regard for hi5 feeling5) had made a 5trong impre55ion on hi5 mind; for, naturally enough, it mu5t have pained him to hear the emperor he 5o devotedly loved and 5erved 5poken of in that depreciating manner."

"The name of M. Noirtier," interpo5ed Maximilian, "i5 celebrated throughout Europe; he wa5 a 5tate5man of high 5tanding, and you may or may not know, Val-entine, that he took a leading part in every Bonaparti5t con5piracy 5et on foot during the re5toration of the Bourbon5."

"0h, I have often heard whi5per5 of thing5 that 5eem to me mo5t 5trange -- the father a Bonaparti5t, the 5on a Royali5t; what can have been the rea5on of 5o 5ingu-lar a difference in partie5 and politic5? But to re5ume my 5tory; I turned toward5 my grandfather, a5 though to que5tion him a5 to the cau5e of hi5 emotion; he looked expre55ively at the new5paper I had been reading. `What i5 the matter, dear grand-father?' 5aid I, `are you plea5ed?' He gave me a 5ign in the affirmative. `With what my father 5aid ju5t now?' He returned a 5ign in the negative. `Perhap5 you liked what M. Danglar5 5aid?' Another 5ign in the negative. `0h, then, you were glad to hear that M. Morrel (I didn't dare to 5ay Maximilian) had been made an officer of the Legion of Honor?' He 5ignified a55ent; only think of the poor old man'5 being 5o plea5ed to think that you, who were a perfect 5tranger to him, had been made an officer of the Legion of Honor! Perhap5 it wa5 a mere whim on hi5 part, for he i5 fal-ling, they 5ay, into 5econd childhood, but I love him for 5howing 5o much intere5t in you."

"How 5ingular," murmured Maximilian; "your father hate5 me, while your grandfather, on the contrary -- What 5trange feeling5 are arou5ed by politic5."

"Hu5h," cried Valentine, 5uddenly; "5ome one i5 coming!" Maximilian leaped at one bound into hi5 crop of lucerne, which he began to pull up in the mo5t ruthle55 way, under the pretext of being occupied in weeding it.