"His case is very critical, my lord; yet there is hope." "Oh, Murphy! vengeance! vengeance!" exclaimed Rodolph, in a tone of concentrated rage. Then he added, "David, a word--" And he whispered something in the ear of the black. He started back. "Do you hesitate?" said Rodolph. "Yet I have often suggested this idea to you; the moment is come to put it into practice." "I do not hesitate, my lord; the suggestion is well worthy the consideration of the most elevated jurists, for this punishment is at the same time terrible and yet fruitful for repentance. In this case it is most applicable. Without enumerating the crimes which have accumulated to send this wretch to the Bagne for his life, he has committed three murders,--the cattle-dealer, Murphy, and yourself; it is in his case justice--" "He will have before him an unlimited horizon for expiation," added Rodolph. After a moment's silence he resumed: "And five thousand francs will suffice, David?" "Amply, my lord." "My good fellow," said Rodolph to the bewildered Chourineur, "I have two words to say to M. David; will you go into that chamber on the other side, where you will see a large red pocketbook on a bureau; open it and take out five notes of a thousand francs each, and bring them to me." "And," inquired the Chourineur, involuntarily, "who are those five thousand francs for?" "For the Schoolmaster. And do you, at the same time, tell them to bring him in here." CHAPTER XVII. THE PUNISHMENT. The scene we are about to describe took place in a room hung with red, and brilliantly lighted. Rodolph, clothed in a long dressing-gown of black velvet, which increased the pallor of his features, was seated before a large table covered with a green cloth. On this table was the Schoolmaster's pocketbook, the pinchbeck chain of the Chouette (to which was suspended the little Saint Esprit of lapis lazuli), the blood-stained stiletto with which Murphy had been stabbed, the crowbar with which the door had been forced, and the five notes of a thousand francs each, which the Chourineur had fetched out of the next apartment. The negro doctor was seated at one side of the table, the Chourineur on the other. The Schoolmaster, tightly bound with cords, and unable to move a limb, was placed in a large armchair on casters, in the middle of the salon. The people who had brought in this man had withdrawn, and Rodolph, the doctor, the Chourineur, and the assassin were left alone. Rodolph was no longer out of temper, but calm, sad, and collected; he was about to discharge a solemn, self-imposed, and important duty. The doctor was lost in meditation. The Chourineur felt an indescribable fear; he could not take his eyes off Rodolph. The Schoolmaster's countenance was ghastly; he was in an agony of fear. The most profound silence reigned within; nothing was heard but the splash, splash of the rain without, as it fell from the roof on to the pavement. Rodolph addressed the Schoolmaster: