"Ah! why look for the informer?--there he is. Father, father, that scoundrel has sold me to the persons who tear me from your arms. There is the man whose name henceforth is Judas." The Duke and Marie shrank from the Count as from a reptile. "René," said the Count, "thank God that my hand has no dagger to reach your heart for this new insult!" "Ah! I believe you. One more crime would have cost you nothing. You would then slay the body as you did the soul. A coward is but a coward--a spy is but an assassin." "A spy!" said Monte-Leone, rushing towards the Vicomte. He then paused as if he had been seized by a new idea, and, turning towards the chief of police, said, pointing to René, "Tell this man that I am not one of your creatures. Tell him that I do not know you. If he needs proof, arrest _me_, for I am far more criminal than he is." "We have no orders to arrest Count Monte-Leone," said M. H----, with a smile. "Well," the Count said, "if you have no orders, I will give you reason to do so. Instead of being an agent of police, I am the head of the secret association you seek after. I am the leader of those who seek to ruin you, the soul of the invisible world which conspires against the throne of your king and hated government. Now, far from avoiding, I call on you to act. Earn your rewards, and arrest the most implacable enemy of your master--the chief of Carbonarism--arrest me!" The Duke, the Vicomte, and the witnesses of this scene, looked with amazement at Monte-Leone, who, as it were, rushed to the block. René d'Harcourt felt something of remorse at what he had said. M. H----, piqued at the defiance, as it were, cast in his face, said to Monte-Leone, "Instead of admitting you guilty of the crimes with which you charge yourself, we protest against your statement: were you as guilty as you say, you would not dare thus to speak. Besides, this bravado is useless. We know to what your conduct is to be attributed, and that you have pursued a very different course from what you say. If you suffer, it is because you have forced me thus publicly to make an explanation." The Count was stricken down by this overwhelming statement, and by the attempt to establish complicity between himself and the police. His sight, his very thoughts became dim, and his lips, contracted by fury, gave vent only to indistinct mutterings. Before he recovered his _sang-froid_, before he could repel this disgraceful imputation, René, in obedience to a signal from M. H----, disengaged himself from his sister's arm, and, clasping his father to his bosom, went from the room. Pausing at the door, he pointed to H----, and said to Monte-Leone, "the words of this man tear away my last doubt; I maintain all I have said. May an old man and young woman's tears, may my blood rest on your head." The Vicomte left. When the old man saw his son depart, he went to Monte-Leone, and with a gesture of anger and contempt