“You must not forget,” said he, “that they are one. You have the instincts of the gardeners of the Ferte-sous-Jonarre. Those instincts are good, but you have the soul of Cartouche, which is detestable. Take care. You are his declared enemy, the question is raised as to who will vanquish— the soul of former years, or the instincts of today.” Théophraste asked Adolphe if the soul of Cartouche was really altogether detestable, and was happy to learn that it had some good points. Adolphe said that Cartouche had expressly forbidden to kill or even wound passers-by without cause. When he operated in Paris with some of his bands, and they brought victims to him, he spoke to them with so much politeness and kindness, that they always returned a part of the booty to him. Sometimes they would limit matters to a simple exchange of clothes. When he found letters or pictures in the pockets of the coats thus exchanged, he ran after the ex-proprietors to return them. It was a maxim of that extraordinary individual, that a man ought not to be robbed twice in the same night, nor were they to be too severely treated, so as not to prevent the Parisians from going out in the evening. Therefore he ordered his men to take the utmost care not to kill any one without good reason. At this time the man was not yet thoroughly wicked. Up to then he had always had a reason for every act. It is to be regretted, however, that he had had one hundred and fifty reasons to assassinate. Let us return to the wax mask. Théophraste and Adolphe were going down the stairs in the station of St. Germain-en-Laye, when suddenly Théophraste thought he saw a familiar figure ahead of him, among a group of travelers. Moved by a feeling over which he had no control, he ran rapidly towards the group, but the figure had disappeared. Where had he seen that figure before? It was so repulsive to him. Adolphe asked him the cause of his agitation, and he recovered himself at once. “I would swear,” said Théophraste, “that it was Signor Petito, the Italian professor of the floor below. What did Signor Petito come to St. Germain for? I do not want to run foul of him.” “Well, what has he done, then?” asked Adolphe. “Oh, nothing. Only if he runs across my way, I swear I will cut off his ears, and you know I will do it if I say so.”