"My master was to-night at the Neapolitan embassy. I waited for him in the courtyard which was black as a fair on days when there is no reception. After having remained an hour there he got into the carriage and bade me drive to the _quai des Orfevres, near the Prefecture of Police_. Here I am, Monsieur, and so are you. Good night, then." Whipping up his horses at the risk of driving over two of the young men who stood at their heads, he went away at a gallop. Von Apsberg, d'Harcourt, and Rovero, were all as white as the snow, which had again begun to fall with violence, and looked at each other with that sympathy of a thousand sentiments which might have been expected in persons so terribly situated as they were. Terror, shame, and despair were all united in their glance. Then by one of those sudden and sublime emotions, they clasped each other's hands as if to say, that, henceforth they could rely on no others. Von Apsberg and the Vicomte, were about to speak, when Taddeo made them wait, and said, "No complaints, no insults. _If it be he_, contempt and death." As he spoke the last word his voice quivered. "'_If it be he?_' what doubt can there be?" said Von Apsberg. "Have not our eyes seen? Have not our ears heard? Are we not satisfied?" "Did you not hear the name?" "May he not have used the name surreptitiously?" "Was it not his form, dress, and air?" "Did you see his face?" asked Taddeo, who was himself struck with the poverty of his reasons, and contended against his convictions. "But, are not the driver and carriage his?" "The driver may have been bribed," said Taddeo, who, like many others, became enthusiastic in favor of a bad cause. "I need something more, I must be certain, and will be. In two hours I will see you at Matheus's." He entered a hackney-coach and drove away; bidding the coachman go to the Neapolitan embassy. "I know his plan," said Von Apsberg, "for if Monte-Leone was not at the embassy, the driver was mistaken, and it was not Monte-Leone we saw." "What now shall we do?" asked the Vicomte, whose cough became more violent, and more frequent. "Go home," said Von Apsberg, "for both your body and mind suffer. You remember I am accountable to your father, and to--your sister, for your health." "But what will you do?" said the Vicomte. "I will wait." "Where--here? at this door?" "Yes; at this door, deserted as it is. I will wait here, for the phantom or the reality. I will wait and tear off the hat which covers his brow, and read with my own eyes the shame there, and thus throw from my soul the last remnant of faith in the honor of my friend." "But if he resist?" "So much the better: I will then kill him." "And if he kill you?" "His work will be complete; for, like Judas, he will have slain one he said he loved."