laid his hand on the shoulder of the old man, the
lately proud advocate, but now wretched culprit, as a
sign of his being put under arrest. But none else
moved; the Sheriff himself shrinking from ordering
the constable to give effect to the signal. All seemed
transfixed with pain or chained with horror, as in
tremulous tones of touching tenderness the slayer
continued to call upon the dead.

"Narcisse, my son, my son," he cried in agony;
"Oh, I have killed thee, child; oh, thou art dead,
dead, dead. -- But thou didst steal thy sister; yes, I
know thou didst; ay, that thou didst, and hast deli-
vered her to dishonor, therefore have I killed thee.
Come, Amanda, come hither, dearest, and behold thy
brother; behold thy father, see what he has done,
and all for thee. Yes, I did it, all you curious crowd.
Amanda, oh, where art thou? let me see thee ere I
die: Amanda dear, Amanda;" and at the words,
Amanda, leaning on the arm of Claude, and followed
by the elder Montigny and Andre Duchatel, appear-
ed upon the corridor, a sweet smile playing upon her
features, and hastening forwards she fell upon the
neck of her guardian, who was still leaning against
the balustrade, pale, haggard and forlorn. Her com-
panions, restrained by astonishment and fear, gazed
aloof and mute, whilst the wretched criminal, eyeing
them with a look of misery and suspicion, in a tone
of inexpressible sadness at length exclaimed:

"Come you to see me, then, before I die; do you
come to triumph over me, Seigneur Montigny?
Look, see there, but do not touch it, for it is abhorred,
abominable, a foul spirit, a black imp of hell. Aman-
da, art thou found? -- Do not tremble, girl, do not

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v?