In an instant the yard was filled with servants, while the ostler and Dame Martin hurried to examine the shed.

"Where?" cried Germain. "Gone," bawled Dame Martin, "without paying his score."

"The carriage burst open!" exclaimed the head valet, horror-struck.

"The soldier gone!" continued Dame Martin. "And Fournier!" thundered Germain.

"Which way?" asked one of the servants of Jean, he having, his clothes all covered with blood, descended to join the domestics.

"What is the matter?" said the voice of the Duke, who, a sword in his hand, and followed by Charles Clement, now entered the yard.

The worthy old nobleman, in a dressing gown and night-cap, having taken not even time to don his velvet culotte, would, under any other circumstances, and in the presence of any but his household, have excited much merriment; but, as it was, a dead silence followed, all the domes tics making way for Jean.

"But you are bleeding," said Charles anxiously. "It is nothing, monsieur,” replied Jean Torticolis, thankfully.

"But what is the matter?" inquired the Duke, petulantly.

Jean, who, for his own private reasons, chose to conceal that he knew all, quietly replied, that, awoke by a noise in the yard, he saw two men, the ritter and the coachman, on horseback, about to leave the inn. Judging from the hour, their suspicious manner, and the heavy portmanteau they carried, that all was not right, he challenged them, when the soldier fired his pistol and rode off.

"Examine the carriage," said the Duke, who was pale, and whose face was rigid.

"The carriage seat is burst open," replied Germain, in a trembling voice.

"Have they then taken everything ?" inquired the nobleman, in a faltering tone.

"Everything, Monsieur le Duc," said Germain, desperately.

Charles Clement, meanwhile, was obtaining from Torticolis some account of the appearance of the thieves. As for Duchesne, he had no idea upon the point save that they should be hanged. "What is the matter?" suddenly exclaimed the musical voice of the Countess Miranda, who, followed by Adela, now appeared on the threshold of the public room.

"That my negligence, in not taking our valuables into my room, has dishonoured me," replied the Duke, in a tone of deep grief. "I had charge of your jewels, and the deeds of your Italian estates, and they have all been stolen."

"You must buy me others, jewels are not rare in Paris, nor am I penniless; as for my papers, you must win them back through Ducrosne," said the Countess, laughing merrily. She was young, and could not grieve the old man by showing the slightest regret. Come, come, no shake of the head, my lord; but have you lost nothing yourself?"

"But I will mount and chase them," exclaimed Charles Clement, who stood resolutely out of sight, his costume being far from complete, "give me two of your servants."

"It is useless, nephew," said the Duke; "the rogues have a fair start. That scamp of a Fournier, he looked like a cut-throat. By-the-way, dress that man's wound, Pierre, and give him a couple of ecus, if, indeed, the vagabonds have left us any."

"But who knows they are not accomplices," muttered Pierre, the barber-valet, pointing to Jean and Duchesne.

"Search us," replied Torticolis, coldly, while his whole frame quivered.

"Do nothing of the kind," exclaimed Charles Clement, indignantly; "I answer for these men." Jean gave him a look of humble gratitude. He still alone possessed the secret of the pistol. The servant drew back with an ill-surprised growl.

"Go finish dressing, ladies," cried the Duke to his daughter and the Countess; more, however, to get clear passage for himself and Charles Clement, than because the young beauties required their maids.

"We go; come Rosa," said the Countess, smothering a laugh.

"Hush, Miranda," whispered the blushing Adela, "my father will be offended."

But they did look so richly comic," replied the merry Countess, "especially your cousin of the long robe."

"Miranda," said Adela, respectfully, for this was reminding her of his inferiority.

"Tush! girl, I meant no harm," answered the other, faintly blushing; "I think better of him than you perhaps imagine.”

"So much the better," exclaimed Adela, still pouting, for she had not disguised her affection for him from her friend. They had no mutual secrets-none. But we have all secret thoughts, which the breath of life has never fanned, and could they be exceptions?

"What manner of man was this!" inquired the Duke of Germain, who assisted him to dress, while Pierre hound up the wourd of Torticolis. The domestic described him minutely.

"Humph! a cut-throat thief enough. As soon as breakfast is over, put in the horses; then ride ahead without waiting for us. When you reach Paris, give information to the lieutenant of the police. Tell M. Ducrosne that I will give fifty thousand livres for the Countess' jewels, and as many for her papers."

It was the best plan. In those days the police served as go-betweens for thieves and their victims. The change has not been for the better. In a few hours after, the whole party were on their road to Paris.

Charles Clement accompanied the Duke, his daughter and Miranda. Jean Torticolis followed on foot. After a brief colloquy, in which, without mentioning names, he told his history, Charles Clement had engaged him as a servant. With the young re

“A trifle,” answered the Duke, without flinch-publican, his chief recommendation was his having, "a month's revenue. Fasten up the doors, ing been oppressed. and prepare breakfast, it is useless retiring to rest ⚫again."

The hangman accompanied his friend not at all displeased to return to Paris, that centre of civi

lization-that soul of the world, as it is called over the water, where lived, and had their being, more knaves, rogues, and ; but plainspoken English has gone out with Smollet and Fielding. We do not speak now, we insinuate.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FIRST SCENE.

Paris was seething, hissing, but not yet boil-
ing. The elections were over, and everywhere
men of liberal tendencies had been returned by
the Tiers-Etats. The world was now anxiously
inquiring what it would do this assembly of
the nation's representatives. There was want,
there was misery, there was oppression, there
were grinding and opprobious laws-if legality
can thus be insulted. There was incredulity on
the one hand, bigotry on the other; there was
hope in the people's heart, selfishness in the
middle classes, hate in the upper ranks. Alrea-
dy the rotten fabric of aristocracy trembled, for
the light of truth was breaking in upon it. Too
long had one favoured portion of the nation
been masters-the turn of others had come now
and they knew it. But they met not the revolution
boldly, and seizing the helm guided it-they ran
away, or conspired in holes or corners. The
emigration of the great, of the rich, such is the
secret of subsequent anarchy. The chivalrous
French nobility struck their colours and fled.
At no great distance from the Palais-Royal,
and leading from the Rue St. Honoré to the
Fromagerie, is a street known by the name of the
Tonnelerie, which belongs to it ever since the
year 1300, when Guillot in his "Dits des Rues
de Paris" says-

"Droit et avant sui ma trace
Jusques en la Tonuelerie."

gloomy quarters, narrow lanes, like slits in a wall, where no sun or light ever penetrated; highpriced provisions, and high duties for all that en tered the city walls; uncleansed gutters, unlightened streets; everything which could brutalise both mind and body. Such was the state of things in Paris when the storm began to blow; all hurrying on the catastrophe, and furnishing, unprincipled, and bad men, who degraded and ready, reckless, and blind tools for the selfish, stained a revolution in its outbursts-natural, hearty, wholesome and just.

way between the great and little Friperie, in a In this street, and in a house which lay midlarge room, almost bare of furniture, save a truckle-bed, a table, and a few chairs, sat a man, deeply engaged in the luxurious employment of drinking a carafe of brandy, and of smoking as black and ill-looking a pipe as could be found, even in that unwholesome establishment. If the walls of the room were dingy and repellent, with their plaster falling inwards-if the ceiling was clouded, the floor absolutely filthy-the whole was in excellent keeping with the occupant of the chamber. Not more than forty, there was yet in his puffed red cheeks, carroty hair, bald crown, and unwashed visage-in his keen grey eyes, thin hands, and punchy shape-in his shabby black hat, and coarse shoes-in his unshaven chin-a sublime whole, which spoke an age of lips and dilated nostrils, with eye fixed hardly or crime or misfortune, or both. Those compressed fiercely on the ceiling, showed that he was contemplating some object of deep interest. Whatever it was, however, it did not abate the perseverance with which he sent forth clouds of tobacco smoke, in the examination of which, as they rose upwards to the sky, he might, by a cas ual spectator, have been supposed engaged.

Suddenly a faint tinkle of a bell was heard, once, and then a heavy tread was distinguished on

the stairs.

The man continued to smoke as impassively as if he had not heard anything,

'M. Brown,' said a voice through a small loophole in the door.

'Come in,' still without moving.

To this locality, where, at No. 3, in 1640, was born Molière, we must now transport ourselves. Antiquated, dirty, with windows mended by pa. per, and tenanted by old-clothes men, the houses project into the middle of the street on one side, being supported by huge square wooden pillars, black, begrimmed, and soiled by the air of Their duration had not added to their respectaages. bility; like the noblesse, they were rotten at the The man entered, and stood almost meekly becore. The pavement, at the time of which we fore the dirty personage, whom he addressed by speak, was broken and disjointed; while the the name of Brown. In a plain suit of grey, front of the shops, where piles of old rags were with clean bands, clean face, clean shoes, he look displayed under the specious name of second-ed a marked contrast to the smoker, but not less hand clothes, exhibited all the hideous features which appertained to one of the old quarters of Paris, in those days of utter disregard in relation to the comforts of the poor, the indigent, the humble. Death, which in other places is conquered by the power of life, stalked in Paris by the side of the new-born child, and for every babe that came into the world, there perished one to make him place. Not a soul was added to the population, though twenty thousand annually drew their first breath in the pestilent and crowded atmosphere of a metropolis which boasted so many splendid monuments of its ancient race of kings, and not one to the benefactors of the people.* Horrible prisons, dark and

with himself a few days previously, for under the garb of a sober domestic were the little piercing eyes and the crick-neck of Torticolis.

'Take a pipe and a seat,' said the other without moving.

Torticolis looked irresolute and half indignant. 'Paul,' exclaimed M. Brown, quietly, you did not hear me. Take a pipe and a seat.

The crick-neck started as if he had seen the gallows of the Grève before him, but he did as

ordered.

'You have been warmly recommended to me,' said the man taking up a paper from the table before him, but still continuing to smoke. 'Hum,' half growled the other.

For several years before the revolution there were while marriage had increased, and the number of ill gitimate. In 1794, the deaths had decreased to 17,000, 20,000 annual births and deaths, 7,000 of the births illegitimate children had diminished to 3,000.

"By my worthy, by our mutual friend, Duchesne,' continued Brown, eyeing the other with a horrid leer, which made him shudder. 'For what purpose?' said Torticolis, almost impatiently.

Your name is now?' added his questioner, preparing to write his reply.

Jean Torticolis is my name,' he answered briefly.

'You are in the service of—'

'Monsieur Charles Clement. But why those questions ?'

'Monsieur Torticolis,' replied the other, 'I am the secret agent of his majesty's police.' 'Oh!' said the domestic curiously, and with

another faint shudder.

'And your friend,' continued the other. 'Ah.'

'You wish to recover your wife?' threw out the other (M. Brown) carelessly.

'Man or devil!' cried Torticolis, with an indescribable look, 'how know you all this?'

And to be revenged on a certain aristocrat,' said M. Brown, rubbing his hands.

You are right, replied Torti, sombrely; 'show me him, and I am your slave.'

"Ah! I thought we should understand one another, and I am quite willing to assist you, if you satisfy me.'

'I will do my best,' said Torticolis, whose face was radiant with hope, for he hated, and revenge was at hand.

'Your master has inherited a portion hitherto unjustly withheld from him by his mother's relations.'

'I believe so.'

'His uncle, the Duke, fascinated by his talents and manner, aims even at giving him, through the king's letters patent, the right to inherit his title.'

'I have heard it whispered.'

'It remains to be seen,' said Brown, peering at the ceiling, if the king can do this."

The king can do anything,' replied Jean Torticolis, who recollected that the monarch was called La France by his courtiers.

'Can he?' continued Brown, who was French born, though of English parents, and who spoke both languages equally well; then, why does he not without the States-General?' But that is not the question. Your master loves Adela de Ravilliere?'

'I believe so.'

'And she loves him,' added Brown.

'I believe so,' again dryly observed Jean. To complete the romance, there is an impedment,' chuckled the spy.

An impediment ?' cried Jean, anxiously-he already loved his master.

'A serious impediment, one which cannot be got over,' added Brown.

The bell tinkled again; this time sharply. 'Ah!' exclaimed the spy, jumping to his feet, and laying down his pipe.

'Shall I go?' inquired Torticolis, rising.

'By no means,' cried M. Brown, 'but enter here, and remain still until I call you. You will find a bottle of brandy, drink it.'

With these words Torticolis was pushed through what seemed a cupboard, but which was in reality a door into another apartment.

For an instant the crick-neck remained perfectly lost in astonishment. He was in a chamber, half boudoir, half bed-100m, that appeared to belong rather to some Madame Dubarry than to the dirty police spy. In an alcove was a bed elegantly and tastefully laid out, while mirrors, sofas, velvet chairs, the unheard-of luxury of a carpet, little knick-knackeries more suited to a woman than a man, a magnificent clock of Sevrès China, with curtains to deaden the light, all added to the puzzled senses of Jean. On a chair was a complete suit of clothes, of the most irreproachable character, which appeared to be those of M. Brown. On pegs hung a number of suits of all kinds, suited to peer or peasant, but all of one size-that of M. Brown.

On a table in the middle of the room were the remains of a supper, at which two persons had been present, but not a sign was there of the second personage. Numerous untouched bottles were on the sideboard, and to these Jean was advancing, when he suddenly paused as if a serpent had stung him.

'Monsieur Brown! Monsieur Brown!' said a voice which made the crick-neck's heart leap. It was that of the trooper of the Dernier Sou. 'Your servant, Count,' replied the spy.

'It is he; but Count, that is surely a mistake,' muttered Jean, who, the wine now forgotten, was listening with all his ears through the door.

'Well,' continued the new arrival, throwing himself on a chair, any news?'

་

'Plenty,' replied the other, the Court is allowing the people to get a-head.'

ly,

'I know it, and this must be stopped.'
'There is only one means,' said the spy, cold-
and I doubt you using it.'

What is it?' inquired the other.

'Win over the middle classes,' replied Brown. 'Willingly, but how?' asked the soldier.

'Concede some of your privileges, join with them heartily on the meeting of the States, divide the taxes fairly, let the nobles bear their part, the clergy theirs."

'I grant you the church,' said the other, 'having no interest in that venerable establishment, but for the rest, impossible.'

'I know it; you have held too long your place to give up willingly,' said the spy, with an expression of face impossible to be rendered or understood; 'you have held it too long.'

'But what then?' inquired the soldier. 'You must frighten the middle classes, you must separate them from the people.' 'Whom call you the people?' said the puzzled trooper.

The labouring classes, the porters, the hawkers, the little tradespeople, the beggars, the unemployed, all who work without employing others.'

'And you think this canaille worth troubling our heads about.'

'This canaille,' said the spy, with lowering eye 'is hungry.'

'Let them eat,' sneered the soldier.

'To eat they must have wages-to have wage they must have work-to have work, there must

be trade, commerce, credit-to have trade, com-
merce, credit there must be a steady government;
now we have none of all this.'

You are a politician?' said the goldier.
'I am a police spy, and know everything,' re-
plied the other, with perfect self-confidence.
'Now these people have their writers, their talkers,
their plotters; and if the Etats-Generaux don't
please them, and give them work and food, they
will act.'

'We must fill Paris with troops.'

'You must have the consent and good-will of the middle classes.'

And how pestiferous talker, can this be

gained.'

'Frighten them, and they will consent to anything.'

'Well,' said the trooper, of all this anon. The Abbé Roy and the Prince de Lambesc will be here presently, incognito, to confer with us. The Court is alarmed.'

"The king?' inquired Brown, raising his head. 'Bah! his majesty sticks to his blacksmith's shop, and comes out upon state occasions.'

'You mean the Austrian, then, Monsieur, and the Count D'Artois?'

"They are the rulers.'

"They are,' replied the spy, dryly; 'the more is the pity.'

'As for that, It is none of my business; and now that I have sounded you, let us talk on my affairs, ere they come.'

'I am ready, Count,' said Brown. "Torticolis listened, his ear against the door; what would he not have given to have seen. 'Well, and what says Ducrosne?' inquired the soldier.

"That you can have thirty thousand livres for the diamonds, and the same sum for the papers.' Sapristie the lieutenant is generous.Nothing less than a hundred thousand for the two will satisfy me.'

'That is exactly what he gets,' replied the spy dryly.

And he thinks to pocket forty thousand. I will treat with them myself.'

"There is a sight objection to it,' quietly an swered Brown.

violence even than before.
Again the bell twinkled, this time with greater

Our company, said the trooper, carelessly, and seating himself, for hitherto he had been standing. M. Brown, as two men entered, the one in the 'I am your most humble servant,' exclaimed rich costume of the Colonel of the Royal-Allemands, the other in the garb of a priest.

'Well met Count,' said the Prince; 'have you come to an understanding.

for you."
'Not at all, replied the soldier, 'I leave that

which he was imitated by the Abbé.
De Lambesc bit his lip, and took a chair, in

'But what progress have you made?' inquired the Colonel.

the point.
The soldier explained what had passed upon

poor Prince, really puzzled; for what could such
'But what does this canaille want?' said the
people possibly desire?

They want equality of rights,' replied the spy. 'Peste! nothing more?' laughed the Colonel; 'and if we don't agree to so reasonable a wish?" 'There is talk-not loudly, but in corners as yet-of a republic.'

vating his eyebrows, and using his tooth-pick-
And what is that?' inquired the dragoon, ele-
he had just dined in the Palais-Royal.

said the spy, with a reverence.
'I refer you to the Abbé, Monsieur le Prince,'

'An atrocious system. which Montesquieu,
replied the priest, with an expression of horror,
Voltaire, Rousseau, and that gang have devised,'
aristocracy.
in which there is a government without king or

this is absurd; a monarchy of fifteen centuries,
"The devil!' cried De Lambesc; but in France
a powerful nobility, a-a-

spy, smiling; the tradespeople, the merchants,
'Nothing else, Monsieur le Prince,' said the
the robe, are against you.'
the middle classes, all save the petite noblesse of

haughtily; but we have the army, and this herd
'So it is said at court,' exclaimed the prince,
would suffer from the reign of the mob.'
of the middle classes must see that they, too,

'More than they do now?' ventured the spy.
'And what do they want?' said the dragoon,

What?' inquired the Count, haughtily. 'The Chatelet,' said the spy, looking at his impatiently. empty fire-place.

You would betray me?'

'You would be no longer useful,' continued the impassible policeman.

Then my utility alone saves me!' said the

Count, furiously.

And your generosity,' smiled the spy.

"That, paying the taxes, they may have the assurance of regular States-General.' voting of them; for this purpose they desire an

consented to, and they were to take it into their 'Peste take that word! but supposing this wish wooden heads not to vote supplies?'

"When their will was baulked, they would,

"Then

this shop-keeping canaille would

'Well, never mind, I will wait; a greater re- do so," replied the spy. ward will be offered, perhaps.' 'Perhaps,' said Brown.

Torticolis breathed more freely-the proofs of guilt were still in his enemy's hands.

'The Abbé Roy, I think you said,' observed the spy, consulting a register.

'I observed so,' replied the soldier, who was devouring his rage at not being able to chastise the insolence of the policeman.

'A notorious intriguer and rogue,' continued Brown, with perfect sang-froid.

rule

'As they do in England.'
'Cursed example!'

'Unless middle classes and people united to rule, as in America.'

'This comes of Lafayette playing the Quixote,' unite with the mob?' sneered the prince. 'But will the Paris bourgeois

fronde of Mazarin; the canaille will do the 'To gain their objects, as in the time of the work.'