"They will come hither," said he, "in spite of both Giacomo and myself, and this room has no other egress." The voices of the Carbonari fell on the ears of the Marquise. "Go in there," said Monte-Leone to the Marquise; and he opened an elegant closet. "In a few moments I will dismiss them." The young woman did so--and scarcely had the door been closed than the three young men entered the room. Their brows were stern and severe, and bore the impress of their feelings. "What is the matter now?" asked Monte-Leone. Not a sound was heard, but six eyes glared at him with disdain and arrogance. Von Apsberg took a paper from his breast, and without speaking, gave it to Monte-Leone. "What means this?" said he. He read---- "STATUTES OF FRENCH CABONARISM. "_Article 1._--Whosoever shall denounce or betray his brethren, confesses that he deserves death, and sentences himself for the crime at the time of its commission." "Well," said the Count, looking at his friends, "I know all that. I signed that article as well as you." "Go on," said Taddeo. The Count continued: "We, chiefs of the central ventes, supreme judges of the members of the association, we to whom our brethren have confided the sacred right of life and death, declare, swear, and affirm, that a base traitor and informer is among us. Each of us therefore demands on this man the punishment which he has made himself liable to, which is death." "His name? his name?" asked Monte-Leone. "His name," said Von Apsberg, "we hesitated to tell you the other day, but do so no longer. His name is Count Monte-Leone!" Monte-Leone stood mute at this reply, and cast glances of surprise and terror on his companions. His blood ran as if it would burst the arteries. His eyes became fiery, and the nails of his fingers drew blood from his palms. He was silent. One might have fancied him the animating spirit of a cloud charged with thunder. After the reading of the sentence, the silence was broken by Von Apsberg, who said: "He who was our chief, who was our dearest friend"--his voice trembled at this sentence--"should not die like a common Carbonaro. We have therefore forgotten our aversion to his crime, and offer to risk our lives against his in strife." The Count let the Doctor conclude, and then said, "I was right! I saw what I fancied I did. This is no dream--no hallucination. A man has dared to couple my name and the reproach of a denunciator together." "There are three who dare, and their names are Rovero, D'Harcourt, and Von Apsberg." "Gentlemen," said he, "sometimes one is forced to condescend to be affronted when dealing with people too low to reach their mark. I, however, cannot condescend to stoop to the gutters where such epithets are gathered up as you throw on me." "These epithets," said D'Harcourt, "are not addressed merely by three men to Count Monte-Leone. All Paris does so."