"Why," added he, with great vehemence, "why do you not ask for another version than that which condemns him? why may not these lists have been taken and copied while in his possession? why may they not have been thus treated, so that he gave you but counterfeits when he fancied he gave you originals? Indeed," said the noble-hearted young man, "you forget too easily the qualities of those you love, and are oblivious of years of courage consecrated to the cause we sustain, and for which he has periled his life. Truly your friendship turns now into hatred and contempt." "Taddeo," said d'Harcourt, "We too, suffer--our hearts also repel what our reason tells us is true. As you do we seek to satisfy ourselves that hate not design had produced our ruin. We, like you, are unwilling to think our friend a villain; and God grant we may not be mistaken." Von Apsberg added that his faith in Monte-Leone had been revived by Taddeo's energetic defence. Every thing must have a cause, a reason, a motive. Why then should Monte-Leone betray us. "Well, well, my friends," said Taddeo, clasping their hands, "if you do not suspect you are not sure of what you say; you will soon be satisfied, and in a short time will deplore your unworthy suspicion. But I who repelled it will now fathom what it means. Our safety and a brother's honor depend on our doing so." "Gentlemen," said Von Apsberg, "we should be guilty if we concealed any longer from Monte-Leone what we intended. Certainly a determined will is required to enable one to inflict such a blow on him. He alone can enable us to trace the traitors and criminals. He can give us light--otherwise we are in darkness." Taddeo said, "Ask me to brave death, to risk my liberty for our cause, and I will not hesitate. Do not, though, ask me to say to a man whom I think honorable, 'you are accused of having sold your brothers, of having basely denounced their secrets--you are called a traitor and a spy--that I cannot do.'" D'Harcourt said, like Taddeo, "I feel myself incompetent to make this revelation. My lips would quiver, and in spite of my efforts, my strength would fail when I looked into his lofty brow and frank countenance. On that brow fear and shame have never spread a blush." "Then I will speak," said Von Apsberg, "I love the Count as well as you do, and accused him just now with deep regret, my heart refuting the imputation which my mouth uttered. I will see him, I will tell him of all, and will in my devotion accomplish the most cruel task ever imposed on me."