"Speak on, and be quick, for time presses."

"Your excellency is resolved to burn down the cathedral?"

"Have I not told you that I would?" replied Melac, with a frown.

"Nothing in heaven or on earth shall save it."

"Then," said the monk with a deep sigh, "for the sake of our brotherhood, I must violate the sanct.i.ty of the confessional. But you must swear to preserve my secret, otherwise you shall not hear it."

"A secret of the confessional! How can it concern me?"

"You shall hear. It relates to the concealment of two millions'

worth of gold and precious stones."

The covetous eyes of Melac glittered, and the blood mounted to his brow. "Two millions!" gasped he.

"One for you and one for our brotherhood. Do you swear to keep the secret?"

"Most unquestionably."

"And also swear that no one but ourselves shall know the place of its concealment?"

"I swear, most willingly, for I do not intend to divide my share of the booty with anybody living. How soon do you expect to come in possession of it?"

"Now--at this very hour."

Melac drew back, and eyed the monk suspiciously. "How! These lying wretches had two millions of treasure, and not one of them would yield it up?"

"General, the people of Speier have nothing--nothing. n.o.body knew of it save the bishop, who died day before yesterday, and the sacristan, who died to-day. You remember that I was absent from your side during two hours to-day?"

Melac nodded, and the monk went on: "Those two hours I spent by the dying-bed of this sacristan, the only depositary of the secret. He was wounded among the rest, was conveyed to a neighboring house, and there I received his last confessions. All the treasures of the cathedral--its gold, silver, and jewels--were, at the approach of the French army, conveyed to a place in the tower, which place the sacristan designated so plainly, that I can find it without difficulty."

"But what has induced you to share it with me?" asked Melac, with a glance of mistrust.

"Imperative necessity, general. I cannot obtain it without your protection. You have given orders that no man shall be suffered to escape from the cathedral to-day, and, unless you go with me, the treasure must be given up to the flames. Certainly, if I could have gotten it without a.s.sistance, it would have been my duty to give it over entire into the hands of the brotherhood. But if you help me, I will divide it with you. It lies in the tower of the cathedral, close by the belfry."

"Come, then, come; show me the way."

They entered the ma.s.sive doors. The sentry saluted the general, and they pa.s.sed on.

"Let nothing more be done until I return," said Melac to the sentry.

"I wish to go over the old building before we consign it to the flames."

CHAPTER IV.

CASPAR'S VENGEANCE.

Deep silence reigned within the walls of the holy temple, broken occasionally by an expiring sigh, or the faint sound of the death- rattle. For the French soldiery had done their work. The poor wretches that had been ensnared into seeking refuge there, had all been murdered, and their possessions removed to a place of safety.

One hour earlier, the vaults of the house of G.o.d had rung with shrieks and groans, but the victims were now dying or dead.

General Melac went among the prostrate bodies, looking here and there behind the pillars, to see whether any thing of value had been overlooked by his subordinates. The monk mean while bent over the prostrate forms that lay in hundreds upon the marble pavement, and so absorbed was he in soothing their last moments, that he almost started as the rough voice of General Melac reached him from the opposite end of the nave.

"Come, come," cried he, in thundering tones. "Enough of useless sentimentality!"

Without a word the monk rose, and, pointing to the grand altar, the general entered the chancel, and followed his conductor to a small door cut in the wall. This the monk opened, and, stepping back, signed to Melac to advance.

"Does this winding-stair lead to the tower?" asked the latter.

"Yes, general, and as there is but one way to reach it, I resume my proper place, and follow you, as in duty bound."

Melac began to ascend the stairs, the monk coming behind him, with an aspect the very opposite of that he had endeavored to maintain all day. His stooping shoulders were flung back, his head was erect, and in his eyes there sat a threatening devil, which, if Melac could have seen it, would have made his heart grow chill with apprehension. But Melac, too, was no longer the same. Up to this moment he had a.s.sumed an appearance of friendliness toward his companion. But now his eye flashed, and his hand clutched his sword, while deep in his heart flowed a current of treachery, which, translated into words ran thus:

"I do not see why he should have any part in this treasure. As soon as he has pointed out the spot, I will catch him in my arms and hurl him down into the body of the church. By Heaven! the life of one miserable monk never was worth a million of treasure!"

Did the monk suspect what was pa.s.sing within the mind of the general? Perhaps he did; for well he knew that he was capable of any amount of atrocity.

On they went, sometimes stumbling in the dark, sometimes emerging into the light, until at last they reached the topmost step where Melac halted to breathe.

"Are we almost there?" asked he.

"Almost there." echoed the monk, while with a swift movement of his hand he drew from under his ca.s.sock two long, stout thongs of hide.

"What are you doing there?" asked Melac.

"I am making ready my la.s.so." replied he, throwing one of the thongs over the head of the general; and, before the latter had time to recover from his surprise, it was pa.s.sed around his body, and his hands were pinioned fast behind.

Melac comprehended that he was betrayed, and making desperate efforts to free himself, he lost his footing, and fell at full length on the granite pavement of the tower. The monk now sprang upon his body, and drawing from his bosom a long handkerchief, he tied it fast over his victim's mouth.

"Your cries might be heard, and some fool might come to the rescue,"

said he. "You shall die without being allowed to give utterance to your despair."

Melac's eyeb.a.l.l.s almost started from their sockets, but the monk looked on without pity. He dragged him to that part of the tower whence the gilded weatherc.o.c.k could be seen toying with the free air of heaven. The sky shone blue and bright; never had it seemed so fair to the wretch that was looking his last upon its azure dome. He felt himself raised in the arms of the monk, firmly fastened with a second thong, and then tossed outside the tower, where he hung, a small, dark speck in the eyes of the officers that were awaiting his return to the hall of council.

And now the monk cast himself down upon his knees. "O G.o.d, I thank Thee that Thou hast granted my prayer, and delivered this monster to my hands! 'Tis Thy will that I should be his executioner, and may Thy holy will be done forever and forever!"

He rose and approached Melac, whose face was ghastly pale, and whose eyes were overflowing with tears. "Now," said he, "know why I have delivered you unto a cruel and agonizing death. For months I have tracked your path, with power to have stricken you every hour of the day. But sudden death was too merciful for such a brute as you! The Hyena of Esslingen shall have the horror and apprehension of a slow, torturing, and solitary death. Without sympathy and without witnesses shall he die, and in his last moments, when his flesh quivers with agony, and the devouring flames shall consume his odious body, let him think on Marie Wengelin, and on me. her lover and betrothed husband--Caspar!"

Without another word, he drew from Melac's finger his signet-ring, and began to descend the winding-stair. The eye of his victim followed his tall, manly figure until it disappeared forever from his sight; and then he listened to his retreating footsteps until they grew faint and more faint, and all hope was lost! An hour of mortal agony went by; the sun sank slowly to rest, and a few stars brightened the sapphire vault above him. Suddenly a red glow brightened the heavens, and gilded the dark waters of the Rhine-- that Rhine which he had so incarnadined with blood! Avenging G.o.d! It was the fire himself had kindled! It leaped up from every point of Speier--and now--now the cathedral was in flames, and death--slow, lingering, and agonizing--had overtaken the Hyena of Esslingen!

CHAPTER V.

THE d.u.c.h.eSS OF ORLEANS.