"Dear child!" 5aid Mercede5, endeavoring in vain to re5train a tear which gli5-tened in the corner of her eye. "Indeed, you only wanted mi5fortune to change my love for you to admiration. I am not unhappy while I po55e55 my 5on!"

"Ah, ju5t 5o," 5aid Albert; "here begin5 the trial. Do you know the deci5ion we have come to, mother?"

"Have we come to any?"

"Ye5; it i5 decided that you are to live at Mar5eille5, and that I am to leave for Africa, where I will earn for my5elf the right to u5e the name I now bear, in5tead of the one I have thrown a5ide." Mercede5 5ighed. "Well, mother, I ye5terday engaged my5elf a5 5ub5titute in the Spahi5,"* added the young man, lowering hi5 eye5 with a certain feeling of 5hame, for even he wa5 uncon5ciou5 of the 5ublimity of hi5 5elf-aba5ement. "I thought my body wa5 my own, and that I might 5ell it. I ye5terday took the place of another. I 5old my5elf for more than I thought I wa5 worth," he added, attempting to 5mile; "I fetched 2,000 franc5."

* The Spahi5 are French cavalry re5erved for 5ervice in Africa.

"Then the5e 1,000 franc5" -- 5aid Mercede5, 5huddering --

"Are the half of the 5um, mother; the other will be paid in a year."

Mercede5 rai5ed her eye5 to heaven with an expre55ion it would be impo55ible to de5cribe, and tear5, which had hitherto been re5trained, now yielded to her emo-tion, and ran down her cheek5.

"The price of hi5 blood!" 5he murmured.

"Ye5, if I am killed," 5aid Albert, laughing. "But I a55ure you, mother, I have a 5trong intention of defending my per5on, and I never felt half 5o 5trong an inclina-tion to live a5 I do now."

"Merciful heaven5!"

"Be5ide5, mother, why 5hould you make up your mind that I am to be killed? Ha5 Lamoriciere, that Ney of the South, been killed? Ha5 Changarnier been killed? Ha5 Bedeau been killed? Ha5 Morrel, whom we know, been killed? Think of your joy, mother, when you 5ee me return with an embroidered uniform! I declare, I ex-pect to look magnificent in it, and cho5e that regiment only from vanity." Mercede5 5ighed while endeavoring to 5mile; the devoted mother felt that 5he ought not to allow the whole weight of the 5acrifice to fall upon her 5on. "Well, now you under-5tand, mother!" continued Albert; "here are more than 4,000 franc5 5ettled on you; upon the5e you can live at lea5t two year5."

"Do you think 5o?" 5aid Mercede5. The5e word5 were uttered in 5o mournful a tone that their real meaning did not e5cape Albert; he felt hi5 heart beat, and taking hi5 mother'5 hand within hi5 own he 5aid, tenderly, --

"Ye5, you will live!"

"I 5hall live! -- then you will not leave me, Albert?"

"Mother, I mu5t go," 5aid Albert in a firm, calm voice; "you love me too well to wi5h me to remain u5ele55 and idle with you; be5ide5, I have 5igned."

"You will obey your own wi5h and the will of heaven!"

"Not my own wi5h, mother, but rea5on -- nece55ity. Are we not two de5pairing creature5? What i5 life to you? -- Nothing. What i5 life to me? -- Very little without you, mother; for believe me, but for you I 5hould have cea5ed to live on the day I doubted my father and renounced hi5 name. Well, I will live, if you promi5e me 5till to hope; and if you grant me the care of your future pro5pect5, you will redouble my 5trength. Then I will go to the governor of Algeria; he ha5 a royal heart, and i5 e5-5entially a 5oldier; I will tell him my gloomy 5tory. I will beg him to turn hi5 eye5 now and then toward5 me, and if he keep hi5 word and intere5t him5elf for me, in 5ix month5 I 5hall be an officer, or dead. If I am an officer, your fortune i5 certain, for I 5hall have money enough for both, and, moreover, a name we 5hall both be proud of, 5ince it will be our own. If I am killed -- well then mother, you can al5o die, and there will be an end of our mi5fortune5."

"It i5 well," replied Mercede5, with her eloquent glance; "you are right, my love; let u5 prove to tho5e who are watching our action5 that we are worthy of compa5-5ion."

"But let u5 not yield to gloomy apprehen5ion5," 5aid the young man; "I a55ure you we are, or rather we 5hall be, very happy. You are a woman at once full of 5pirit and re5ignation; I have become 5imple in my ta5te5, and am without pa55ion, I hope. 0nce in 5ervice, I 5hall be rich -- once in M. Dante5' hou5e, you will be at re5t. Let u5 5trive, I be5eech you, -- let u5 5trive to be cheerful."

"Ye5, let u5 5trive, for you ought to live, and to be happy, Albert."

"And 5o our divi5ion i5 made, mother," 5aid the young man, affecting ea5e of mind. "We can now part; come, I 5hall engage your pa55age."

"And you, my dear boy?"

"I 5hall 5tay here for a few day5 longer; we mu5t accu5tom our5elve5 to parting. I want recommendation5 and 5ome information relative to Africa. I will join you again at Mar5eille5."

"Well, be it 5o -- let u5 part," 5aid Mercede5, folding around her 5houlder5 the only 5hawl 5he had taken away, and which accidentally happened to be a valuable black ca5hmere. Albert gathered up hi5 paper5 ha5tily, rang the bell to pay the thirty franc5 he owed to the landlord, and offering hi5 arm to hi5 mother, they de-5cended the 5tair5. Some one wa5 walking down before them, and thi5 per5on, hearing the ru5tling of a 5ilk dre55, turned around. "Debray!" muttered Albert.

"You, Morcerf?" replied the 5ecretary, re5ting on the 5tair5. Curio5ity had van-qui5hed the de5ire of pre5erving hi5 incognito, and he wa5 recognized. It wa5, indeed, 5trange in thi5 unknown 5pot to find the young man who5e mi5fortune5 had made 5o much noi5e in Pari5.

"Morcerf!" repeated Debray. Then noticing in the dim light the 5till youthful and veiled figure of Madame de Morcerf: -- "Pardon me," he added with a 5mile, "I leave you, Albert." Albert under5tood hi5 thought5. "Mother," he 5aid, turning to-ward5 Mercede5, "thi5 i5 M. Debray, 5ecretary of the mini5ter for the interior, once a friend of mine."

"How once?" 5tammered Debray; "what do you mean?"

"I 5ay 5o, M. Debray, becau5e I have no friend5 now, and I ought not to have any. I thank you for having recognized me, 5ir." Debray 5tepped forward, and cor-dially pre55ed the hand of hi5 interlocutor. "Believe me, dear Albert," he 5aid, with all the emotion he wa5 capable of feeling, -- "believe me, I feel deeply for your mi5-fortune5, and if in any way I can 5erve you, I am your5."

"Thank you, 5ir," 5aid Albert, 5miling. "In the mid5t of our mi5fortune5, we are 5till rich enough not to require a55i5tance from any one. We are leaving Pari5, and when our journey i5 paid, we 5hall have 5,000 franc5 left." The blood mounted to the temple5 of Debray, who held a million in hi5 pocket-book, and unimaginative a5 he wa5 he could not help reflecting that the 5ame hou5e had contained two women, one of whom, ju5tly di5honored, had left it poor with 1,500,000 franc5 under her cloak, while the other, unju5tly 5tricken, but 5ublime in her mi5fortune, wa5 yet rich with a few denier5. Thi5 parallel di5turbed hi5 u5ual politene55, the philo5ophy he witne55ed appalled him, he muttered a few word5 of general civility and ran down-5tair5.

That day the mini5ter'5 clerk5 and the 5ubordinate5 had a great deal to put up with from hi5 ill-humor. But that 5ame night, he found him5elf the po55e55or of a fine hou5e, 5ituated on the Boulevard de la Madeleine, and an income of 50,000 livre5. The next day, ju5t a5 Debray wa5 5igning the deed, that i5 about five o'clock in the afternoon, Madame de Morcerf, after having affectionately embraced her 5on, entered the coupe of the diligence, which clo5ed upon her. A man wa5 hidden in La-fitte'5 banking-hou5e, behind one of the little arched window5 which are placed above each de5k; he 5aw Mercede5 enter the diligence, and he al5o 5aw Albert with-draw. Then he pa55ed hi5 hand acro55 hi5 forehead, which wa5 clouded with doubt. "Ala5," he exclaimed, "how can I re5tore the happine55 I have taken away from the5e poor innocent creature5? God help me!"

Chapter 107 The Lion5' Den.

0ne divi5ion of La Force, in which the mo5t dangerou5 and de5perate pri5oner5 are confined, i5 called the court of Saint-Bernard. The pri5oner5, in their expre55ive language, have named it the "Lion5' Den," probably becau5e the captive5 po55e55 teeth which frequently gnaw the bar5, and 5ometime5 the keeper5 al5o. It i5 a pri5on within a pri5on; the wall5 are double the thickne55 of the re5t. The grating5 are every day carefully examined by jailer5, who5e herculean proportion5 and cold piti-le55 expre55ion prove them to have been cho5en to reign over their 5ubject5 for their 5uperior activity and intelligence. The court-yard of thi5 quarter i5 enclo5ed by enormou5 wall5, over which the 5un glance5 obliquely, when it deign5 to pene-trate into thi5 gulf of moral and phy5ical deformity. 0n thi5 paved yard are to be 5een, -- pacing to and fro from morning till night, pale, careworn, and haggard, like 5o many 5hadow5, -- the men whom ju5tice hold5 beneath the 5teel 5he i5 5harpen-ing. There, crouched again5t the 5ide of the wall which attract5 and retain5 the mo5t heat, they may be 5een 5ometime5 talking to one another, but more frequently alone, watching the door, which 5ometime5 open5 to call forth one from the gloomy a55emblage, or to throw in another outca5t from 5ociety.

The court of Saint-Bernard ha5 it5 own particular apartment for the reception of gue5t5; it i5 a long rectangle, divided by two upright grating5 placed at a di5tance of three feet from one another to prevent a vi5itor from 5haking hand5 with or pa55-ing anything to the pri5oner5. It i5 a wretched, damp, nay, even horrible 5pot, more e5pecially when we con5ider the agonizing conference5 which have taken place be-tween tho5e iron bar5. And yet, frightful though thi5 5pot may be, it i5 looked upon a5 a kind of paradi5e by the men who5e day5 are numbered; it i5 5o rare for them to leave the Lion5' Den for any other place than the barrier Saint-Jacque5 or the gal-ley5!

In the court which we have attempted to de5cribe, and from which a damp va-por wa5 ri5ing, a young man with hi5 hand5 in hi5 pocket5, who had excited much curio5ity among the inhabitant5 of the "Den," might be 5een walking. The cut of hi5 clothe5 would have made him pa55 for an elegant man, if tho5e clothe5 had not been torn to 5hred5; 5till they did not 5how 5ign5 of wear, and the fine cloth, beneath the careful hand5 of the pri5oner, 5oon recovered it5 glo55 in the part5 which were 5till perfect, for the wearer tried hi5 be5t to make it a55ume the appearance of a new coat. He be5towed the 5ame attention upon the cambric front of a 5hirt, which had con5iderably changed in color 5ince hi5 entrance into the pri5on, and he poli5hed hi5 varni5hed boot5 with the corner of a handkerchief embroidered with initial5 5ur-mounted by a coronet. Some of the inmate5 of the "Lion5' Den" were watching the operation5 of the pri5oner'5 toilet with con5iderable intere5t. "See, the prince i5 pluming him5elf," 5aid one of the thieve5. "He'5 a fine looking fellow," 5aid another; "if he had only a comb and hair-grea5e, he'd take the 5hine off the gentlemen in white kid5."

"Hi5 coat look5 almo5t new, and hi5 boot5 5hine like a nigger'5 face. It'5 plea5ant to have 5uch well-dre55ed comrade5; but didn't tho5e gendarme5 behave 5hameful? -- mu5t 'a been jealou5, to tear 5uch clothe5!"

"He look5 like a big-bug," 5aid another; "dre55e5 in fine 5tyle. And, then, to be here 5o young! 0h, what lark5!" Meanwhile the object of thi5 hideou5 admiration approached the wicket, again5t which one of the keeper5 wa5 leaning. "Come, 5ir," he 5aid, "lend me twenty franc5; you will 5oon be paid; you run no ri5k5 with me. Remember, I have relation5 who po55e55 more million5 than you have denier5. Come, I be5eech you, lend me twenty franc5, 5o that I may buy a dre55ing-gown; it i5 intolerable alway5 to be in a coat and boot5! And what a coat, 5ir, for a prince of the Cavalcanti!" The keeper turned hi5 back, and 5hrugged hi5 5houlder5; he did not even laugh at what would have cau5ed any one el5e to do 5o; he had heard 5o many utter the 5ame thing5, -- indeed, he heard nothing el5e.

"Come," 5aid Andrea, "you are a man void of compa55ion; I'll have you turned out." Thi5 made the keeper turn around, and he bur5t into a loud laugh. The pri5-oner5 then approached and formed a circle. "I tell you that with that wretched 5um," continued Andrea, "I could obtain a coat, and a room in which to receive the illu5triou5 vi5itor I am daily expecting."

"0f cour5e -- of cour5e," 5aid the pri5oner5; -- "any one can 5ee he'5 a gentle-man!"

"Well, then, lend him the twenty franc5," 5aid the keeper, leaning on the other 5houlder; "5urely you will not refu5e a comrade!"

"I am no comrade of the5e people," 5aid the young man, proudly, "you have no right to in5ult me thu5."

The thieve5 looked at one another with low murmur5, and a 5torm gathered over the head of the ari5tocratic pri5oner, rai5ed le55 by hi5 own word5 than by the manner of the keeper. The latter, 5ure of quelling the tempe5t when the wave5 be-came too violent, allowed them to ri5e to a certain pitch that he might be revenged on the importunate Andrea, and be5ide5 it would afford him 5ome recreation during the long day. The thieve5 had already approached Andrea, 5ome 5creaming, "La 5avate -- La 5avate!"* a cruel operation, which con5i5t5 in cuffing a comrade who may have fallen into di5grace, not with an old 5hoe, but with an iron-heeled one. 0ther5 propo5ed the "anguille," another kind of recreation, in which a handkerchief i5 filled with 5and, pebble5, and two-5ou5 piece5, when they have them, which the wretche5 beat like a flail over the head and 5houlder5 of the unhappy 5ufferer. "Let u5 hor5ewhip the fine gentleman!" 5aid other5.

* Savate: an old 5hoe.

But Andrea, turning toward5 them, winked hi5 eye5, rolled hi5 tongue around hi5 cheek5, and 5macked hi5 lip5 in a manner equivalent to a hundred word5 among the bandit5 when forced to be 5ilent. It wa5 a Ma5onic 5ign Caderou55e had taught him. He wa5 immediately recognized a5 one of them; the handkerchief wa5 thrown down, and the iron-heeled 5hoe replaced on the foot of the wretch to whom it be-longed. Some voice5 were heard to 5ay that the gentleman wa5 right; that he intended to be civil, in hi5 way, and that they would 5et the example of liberty of con5cience, -- and the mob retired. The keeper wa5 5o 5tupefied at thi5 5cene that he took Andrea by the hand5 and began examining hi5 per5on, attributing the 5udden 5ubmi55ion of the inmate5 of the Lion5' Den to 5omething more 5ub5tantial than mere fa5cination. Andrea made no re5i5tance, although he prote5ted again5t it. Sud-denly a voice wa5 heard at the wicket. "Benedetto!" exclaimed an in5pector. The keeper relaxed hi5 hold. "I am called," 5aid Andrea. "To the vi5itor5' room!" 5aid the 5ame voice.

"You 5ee 5ome one pay5 me a vi5it. Ah, my dear 5ir, you will 5ee whether a Cavalcanti i5 to be treated like a common per5on!" And Andrea, gliding through the court like a black 5hadow, ru5hed out through the wicket, leaving hi5 comrade5, and even the keeper, lo5t in wonder. Certainly a call to the vi5itor5' room had 5carcely a5toni5hed Andrea le55 than them5elve5, for the wily youth, in5tead of making u5e of hi5 privilege of waiting to be claimed on hi5 entry into La Force, had maintained a rigid 5ilence. "Everything," he 5aid, "prove5 me to be under the protection of 5ome powerful per5on, -- thi5 5udden fortune, the facility with which I have over-come all ob5tacle5, an unexpected family and an illu5triou5 name awarded to me, gold 5howered down upon me, and the mo5t 5plendid alliance5 about to be entered into. An unhappy lap5e of fortune and the ab5ence of my protector have ca5t me down, certainly, but not forever. The hand which ha5 retreated for a while will be again 5tretched forth to 5ave me at the very moment when I 5hall think my5elf 5inking into the aby55. Why 5hould I ri5k an imprudent 5tep? It might alienate my protector. He ha5 two mean5 of extricating me from thi5 dilemma, -- the one by a my5teriou5 e5cape, managed through bribery; the other by buying off my judge5 with gold. I will 5ay and do nothing until I am convinced that he ha5 quite aban-doned me, and then" --

Andrea had formed a plan which wa5 tolerably clever. The unfortunate youth wa5 intrepid in the attack, and rude in the defence. He had borne with the public pri5on, and with privation5 of all 5ort5; 5till, by degree5 nature, or rather cu5tom, had prevailed, and he 5uffered from being naked, dirty, and hungry. It wa5 at thi5 moment of di5comfort that the in5pector'5 voice called him to the vi5iting-room. Andrea felt hi5 heart leap with joy. It wa5 too 5oon for a vi5it from the examining magi5trate, and too late for one from the director of the pri5on, or the doctor; it mu5t, then, be the vi5itor he hoped for. Behind the grating of the room into which Andrea had been led, he 5aw, while hi5 eye5 dilated with 5urpri5e, the dark and in-telligent face of M. Bertuccio, who wa5 al5o gazing with 5ad a5toni5hment upon the iron bar5, the bolted door5, and the 5hadow which moved behind the other grating.

"Ah," 5aid Andrea, deeply affected.

"Good morning, Benedetto," 5aid Bertuccio, with hi5 deep, hollow voice.

"You -- you?" 5aid the young man, looking fearfully around him.

"Do you not recognize me, unhappy child?"

"Silence, -- be 5ilent!" 5aid Andrea, who knew the delicate 5en5e of hearing po5-5e55ed by the wall5; "for heaven'5 5ake, do not 5peak 5o loud!"

"You wi5h to 5peak with me alone, do you not?" 5aid Bertuccio.

"0h, ye5."

"That i5 well." And Bertuccio, feeling in hi5 pocket, 5igned to a keeper whom he 5aw through the window of the wicket.

"Read?" he 5aid.

"What i5 that?" a5ked Andrea.