On the day after Montmorin's departure, we walked through the fields scarcely touching the ground. Reaching the border of the pestilential lake, we seated ourselves near the verdant fringe of delicate flowers. My head rested on her breast and our eyes promised what our lips could not utter, for very happiness. On returning home, Marie complained of feeling cold. The next day she lay shivering in bed. The malaria was having its effect. Her clear eyes grew clouded and after some days her dear form became emaciated. Montmorin was summoned, but she could scarcely greet him. The bells from the Capuchin convent near by were pealing out into the air and we knelt by her bed as she said: "Eugene, brother of my soul, forgive me." For answer, Montmorin took my hand in his. "Watch over him, Eugene." Montmorin, shedding hot streaming tears, promised. Together we watched beside her until she died. Chapter V A COURTEOUS MAN So far had René read. The revelations were so startling that he could but ask himself if he were the victim of a madman's delusion. "Am I reading a romance or a sincere autobiography? Before going further, I should look at the documents within the box. I must not espouse this man's cause while a shadow of doubt disturbs me. And Amélie? If these pages speak the truth, who am I to look upon Amélie?" The daylight was fading and a servant appeared bearing a candelabrum which he placed upon a stand, saying: "Monsieur, a French gentleman asks to be admitted to you." René placed the manuscript beneath the sofa pillow and said: "How did the French gentleman learn that I am here? What is his name?" The man handed him a card bearing these words: The Count de Keller. "Who may this be?" murmured René to himself. Then aloud: "Bid him enter." When alone, the Marquis concealed the manuscript in his traveling bag which also contained the casket or box. He awaited the visitor, remembering Naundorff's words: You have trusted men; in future beware of them. You have been frank; in future be astute and reticent. Then an elegantly appareled gentleman entered in a coat of violet cloth ornamented with gold buttons and a close-fitting pair of grey cashmere breeches. The many folds in his white cravat made him hold his head high indeed. On his finely shaped thigh dangled resplendently the chain and ornaments of the Sullivan, the latest fad. His appearance was prepossessing and he recalled vividly the famous Chateaubriand type.