The Baron apologized, commiserated, and sat down on a seat near, with a look of fretful despair; and his daughter and Monsieur the Viscount were left standing together. Monsieur the Viscount desired to say a great deal and could say very little. The moments went by and hardly a word had been spoken. Valerie asked if he knew his fate. "I have not heard it," he said; "but I am morally certain. There can be but one end in these days." She sighed. "It is the same with us. And if you must suffer, Monsieur, I wish that we may suffer together. It would comfort my father--and me." Her composure vexed him. Just, too, when he was sensible that the desire of life was making a few fierce struggles in his own breast. "You seem to look forward to death with great cheerfulness, Mademoiselle." The large eyes were raised to him with a look of surprise at the irritation of his tone. "I think," she said gently, "that one does not look forward to, but _beyond_ it." She stopped and hesitated, still watching his face, and then spoke hurriedly and diffidently:-- "Monsieur, it seems impertinent to make such suggestions to you, who have doubtless a full fund of consolation; but I remember, when a child, going to hear the preaching of a monk who was famous for his eloquence. He said that his text was from the Scriptures--it has been in my mind all to-day--'_There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at rest._' The man is becoming impatient. Adieu! Monsieur. A thousand thanks and a thousand blessings." She offered her cheek, on which there was not a ray of increased color, and Monsieur the Viscount stooped and kissed it, with a thick mist gathering in his eyes, through which he could not see her face. "Adieu! Valerie!" "Adieu! Louis!" So they met, and so they parted; and as Monsieur the Viscount went back to his prison, he flattered himself that the last link was broken for him in the chain of earthly interests. When he reached the cell he was tired, and lay down, and in a few seconds a soft scrambling over the floor announced the return of Monsieur Crapaud from his hiding place. With one wrinkled leg after another he clambered on to the stone, and Monsieur the Viscount started when he saw him.