"Let her depart for Lyons to-day, even; we have an excellent house in that city, once entered there it would be impossible for her to communicate with the outside. Now, see what we are going to do. The first thing is to go at once to the Palais de Justice; there I shall find an influential person who will recommend me to the king's attorney, in whose hands you will lodge your complaint. After that we will hasten to the convent; among the livery hacks there is always a carriage ready for an emergency; one of our sisters and a steady and resolute man will accompany your niece; you will give your orders to them; in two hours she will be on the route to Lyons, and before the end of the day Captain Horace will be locked in jail, because, as he believes your complaint is withdrawn, he will come out of the retreat which we have not been able to discover. Once this miscreant arrested, and your niece out of Paris, you will see my Lord Appetite run to you, and with a little address--I will help you if you wish it--you will have him at your mercy, and can do with him as you please." "Dear abbé, you are my saviour!" cried the canon, rising from his seat, his face radiant with hope. "You are a superior man; Father Benoit told me so in Cadiz. Let us go, let us go. I abandon myself blindly to your counsels; everything tells me they are excellent, and that they will place him, who is an angel and a demon to me, in my power for ever." "Let us go, then, my dear Dom Diégo," said the abbé, hastily putting on his hat, and dragging the canon by the arm. The moment the canon opened the door of the parlour, he found himself face to face with Doctor Gasterini, who familiarly entered the saintly man's house without announcement. The abbé was just going to address a word to the doctor, when at a cry from the canon he turned abruptly and saw Dom Diégo, pale, motionless, his gaze fixed, and his hands clasped, and his face expressing all the contradictions of stupor, doubt, anguish, and hope. Finally, addressing the abbé, who comprehended nothing of this sudden emotion, the canon pointed to the doctor and stammered, in a broken voice, "It--is--he." But Dom Diégo was not able to say more, and overcome by emotion he sat down heavily in a chair, closed his eyes, and fell over in utter weakness. "The devil! the canon here!" said Doctor Gasterini to himself. "Cursed accident!" Abbé Ledoux, at the sight of Dom Diégo's collapse,--a pathetic picture,--turned to the doctor, and said: "I think, really, the canon must be ill. What is the matter with him? Your arrival is fortunate, my dear doctor; wait,--here is a vial of salts, it will assist his breathing."