Goutran was really in love, although for a time his attention had been distracted by the strange affair of Jane Zeld. But now that calm was in a measure restored, Goutran thought of Carmen with quickened pulse. He no longer hesitated. He resolved to write to a millionaire uncle of his who spent his last days hunting wolves in the Ardennes, and beg him to come up and lay his proposal before the banker. He told Esperance what he meant to do, and the Vicomte encouraged the plan.

When he had come to this conclusion, he was astonished to find that the same indecision again attacked him. Why did he hesitate? He would have been at a loss to say. He determined, however, on one of two things, either to ask Carmen's hand or never see her again. He had been with Esperance for forty-eight hours, encouraging him and ministering to Jane, and now he felt the need of fresh air. He walked toward Saint Cloud, softly saying to himself among the green trees:

"I love her! I love her!"

On his return the decision was made. He would write to his uncle the next day. As he entered the hÔtel, the concierge said to him mysteriously:

"There was a lady here, sir."

"A lady! What lady?"

"Ah! sir, that I can't say. My discretion was too great to permit me to ask her name. I think she is young and pretty, though she was heavily vailed. She asked for you, and when I told her you were out she looked embarrassed, and finally drew from her pocket a little note which she had prepared. She gave it to me, saying it was very urgent."

"A note! Where is it? You should have given it to me at once."

"Oh! it is safe, sir, in my davenport."

A concierge with a davenport! What is the world coming to, thought Goutran.

Finally the good man produced the paper in question, rose colored and perfumed. Goutran tore it open, but did not read it until he reached his own room. The address was in delicate, long letters, the result of lessons from an English master. Who could have sent it? He did not know the writing. But when he glanced at the signature he with difficulty refrained from a cry of surprise. The note was signed, "Carmen de L——." These were its contents:

"Monsieur Goutran—or will you allow me to call you my friend—I must see you at once on matters of vast importance. To-night, at eleven o'clock, I shall expect you. Ring at the side door of the hÔtel; my maid will be in attendance. Do not fail, for you and those you love are in danger."

Goutran was amazed. What did these mysterious lines mean? And of whom did Carmen speak when she said "those you love"? He was greatly disturbed, but he was not the man to hesitate.

At ten o'clock he was already walking up and down a street which commanded a view of the HÔtel Laisangy, but he felt none of the emotion natural to a lover going to a rendezvous. He had a feeling of strange oppression. Finally the clock struck eleven. The side door was on the Rue Saint HonorÉ. Goutran was about to ring the bell, when the door was opened and a hand was laid on his.

"Come this way," said a woman's voice.

It was the curious maid whom we have already seen. She was enchanted, feeling sure that it was a lover she admitted. The stairs were carpeted and dimly lighted. Presently he entered Carmen's boudoir, but she was not there.

"I will notify the young lady," said the maid, with one of those knowing smiles that tell so much.

Goutran was standing with his hat in his hand when Carmen entered. She was very simply dressed in black. Her beautiful face was very pale. Her blonde hair looked like burnished gold. She extended her hand as he advanced with a profound bow.

"Many thanks," she said, "for having come. I hardly dared expect you."

"Why did you doubt me? Did you suppose that I could be deaf to such a mark of confidence?"

Carmen smiled sadly.

"Yes," she said, "I do feel entire confidence in you, a confidence that is most real."

She seated herself and motioned him to a chair, and with her large eyes fixed on her companion, was silent for a minute. At last she said, abruptly:

"Monsieur Goutran, do you love me?"

At this most unexpected question, Goutran started.

"Yes," he answered, gravely. "I love you, and I feel a devotion for you which is, perhaps, better than love."

Carmen's long lashes rested on her burning cheeks.

"Your words are sweeter to me than you can well imagine. By and by you will understand me better. I need your affection, and I need your assistance, but I am about to put your interest in me to a very severe test."

"You have but to express your wishes," said Goutran.

Carmen waited. Evidently she had not strength to go on with her explanation.

"Listen to me," she resumed. "I owe you a declaration which will remove every possibility of a misunderstanding between us. A few days ago, when on the terrace of your house my hands rested in yours, I fully realized that, so far as you were concerned, a tacit engagement from that moment existed between us."

"From that moment," interrupted Goutran, "I felt that if you would accept my hand and name——"

"And yet you did not apply to Monsieur Laisangy?" said Carmen, gently.

"Did you doubt me? I did not dare."

"And you were right, for, Monsieur Goutran, I can never be your wife!"

Goutran rose quickly.

"Was it to break my heart that you summoned me here to-night?" he cried.

"I can never be your wife," repeated Carmen, "because only an unstained woman should bear your name!"

Goutran turned deadly pale.

"And I," she continued, "am not such a woman!"

"Ah! Mademoiselle, I cannot understand you."

"Listen to me. Every word I speak I have thoroughly weighed, and I understand my duty. I hope my frankness will at least win your esteem, and possibly your pity."

"My pity! Ah! Carmen, for God's sake do not say such things!"

"I have not finished. Goutran, I love you, deeply and sincerely. Your character, your talents, all inspire me, for the first time in my life, with those sentiments which tend to elevate us. Before knowing you I passed through life knowing little, and caring little, of what was right or what was wrong."

Tears were now pouring down her cheeks.

"I am not the daughter," she sobbed, "I am not the daughter, I am the friend, of Monsieur de Laisangy!"

A pained exclamation broke from Goutran's breast, and he hid his face in his hands. He felt as if a dagger had struck him in the heart.

"Yes," continued Carmen, with a smile of contempt, "this old man, for reasons of his own, insisted on my bearing his name. Do not condemn me too greatly," she continued, "I was not sixteen when I fell into the trap that this man laid for me. Think of it!"

"The miserable scoundrel!"

"Yes, he ruined me, body and soul! All the finer instincts of my nature he sneered at. He taught me to despise everything—himself, myself! For five long years I endured this martyrdom. When we reached Paris, he added another wrong to those he had already inflicted on me. He compelled me to profane the sacred name of father, and yet I did not realize my shame until the day I met you. I sat to you for my portrait, and as you talked I felt a whole new world opening before me. I knew then, for the first time, that I was unworthy of the love of an honest man. Ah! Goutran, how I have suffered in loving you!"

And the poor girl sank on her knees, a very Magdalen.

Goutran laid his hand on her head.

"Carmen, these avowals prove to me that I was not wrong in thinking you the best and the most adorable woman in the world!"

"You do not loathe me, then?"

"Have I any right to be your judge? I have certainly received a sad shock."

He lifted her to a chair.

"If you have made me this terrible confidence it is because you wish to give me a proof of your great confidence in me. I shall be worthy of it, be sure of that. And now, tell me what you wish."

Carmen lifted her sad eyes to his.

"How good you are!" she said, quietly. "But you are right. Now you will not doubt my motives nor me?"

"I swear that I will believe every syllable you utter!"

Carmen, after a few moments' consideration, said:

"You are very fond of this young Monte-Cristo?"

"Certainly I am. He is one of the noblest fellows I ever met. But why do you speak of him?"

"Because it was to speak of him that I summoned you here to-night. Your friend, Goutran, is in great danger, as are you—and myself, too."

"Danger!"

"We must find some means of avoiding it, but your enemies——"

"I have no enemies!"

"Yes, and Monsieur de Laisangy is one of them."

"That scoundrel!"

"Yes, and he is worse than I supposed, and the other foe is—but did you notice an Italian here, the secretary of the Italian Count?"

"Yes—his name was Fagiano."

"He calls himself Fagiano, but that is not his real name."

"Who is he, then?"

"I cannot say. But listen. For some time I have hated and loathed Laisangy. I felt that he was a greater criminal towards others than myself, and as my conscience began to stir, I felt my suspicions daily increase. At your soirÉe I noticed that this man whom I called father started and turned pale when he heard the name of Monte-Cristo, and then he invented some pretext to leave the room."

"I remember," said Goutran.

"Then, when we were on the terrace—" Carmen hesitated. There were memories connected with that terrace which she did not care to approach.

Goutran said, kindly:

"Go on, dear child."

"I do not know if you remember as well as myself a dispute which we, in a measure, overheard. I recognized Laisangy's voice, and the disconnected words confirmed my suspicions. Early the next morning I sent for him and questioned him very closely, and in a most peremptory manner. In the midst of our animated discussion a card was brought in. This Signor Fagiano had called to see Monsieur de Laisangy.

"I heard no more of him, saw no more of him, until yesterday, when, as I entered the hÔtel, I saw Fagiano coming in. I at once ran into Laisangy's private office, and reached it first, where I hid in a closet, ready to listen to every word. Do not reprove me. All means are lawful when dangers threaten those you love, and some instinct taught me that I should learn something of you and the Vicomte."

Goutran kissed Carmen's hand as his sole reply.

"The two men came in a moment or two, and I at once learned from the first words they uttered that they were associates in some crime. What it is I know not, but Fagiano said:

"'I have done it, and now our vengeance is certain. But I need money.'

"'I have already told you that I would give it to you. Here is what you want. And now, what do you mean to do?'

"'She is in my power now, and I shall soon have him, too.'

"'No imprudence! We must not be compromised.'

"'I am hardly foolish enough for that. I will torture Monte-Cristo's son, but not in a way that the law can reach!'

"'Let him be tortured! Let him pay for all the agony his father has inflicted on me!'

"'You shall be satisfied!'

"The two men then walked away still talking, but in such low voices that I could not hear. I rushed from my hiding-place and hastened to my room. I had learned little, it is true; but what I heard had opened wide and fearful possibilities. I knew Monsieur de Laisangy, and knew that he would stop at nothing. It would be useless for me to interfere openly, and then I thought of you."

"And you we're right in sending for me. In your recital, however, there are many points that are obscure. Thank you for warning me. You asked me, a few moments since, if I loved Esperance. I look upon him as my brother, and I would give my life to spare him a pang."

"But of whom did the man speak when he said, 'she is in my power'?"

"I do not venture to say; but in an hour we shall know."

The young man turned toward the door. Carmen came to his side and gave him her hand. He drew her to his breast.

"You have hurt me, Carmen, but I respect you more than ever, and I love you!"

"Ah!" she said, passionately, "those words from your lips have made me your slave. I belong to you from this moment! I will mount guard over the enemy, and we will work together!"