"Take this;--and now, Tobie, let us be off."

Albert entered the cab, but Tobie seized the opportunity to whisper in Paul's ear:

"Carry the letter at once; then his father, knowing that he is going to fight, may succeed in preventing the duel."

"Come on, Tobie! we have no time to waste."

"Here I am; I was just fixing my suspenders."

When the young men were in the cab, the driver, spurred on by Albert, lashed his horse, which started off at a rapid trot; and Paul was left standing on the boulevard, with the letter to Monsieur Vermoncey in his hand.

The young messenger considered what it was his duty to do. The sight of Albert recalled the adventure of the loft, Celestin's insolence, and his schemes to seduce Elina. For a moment, he was tempted to wait the prescribed two hours before delivering the letter. But such impulses, inspired by hatred, could not long exist in his heart.

"This Monsieur Albert isn't as vicious as the others," he thought; "he allows his friends to lead him into folly, just as Sans-Cravate allows Jean Ficelle to lead him. But I don't believe that he is bad at heart.

And if he should be killed! Mon Dieu! I think I have heard that his father had no one left but him, that he had lost all his other children.

Ah! I must at least try to save this one for him. I will deliver the letter at once."

Paul went to the address written on the letter. He did not know Albert's father, he had never seen him; and yet, the thought of his grief if his son should fall in this duel awoke the keenest interest in his heart.

"I would like to speak to Monsieur Vermoncey--the elder," said Paul to the concierge.

"Second floor, door at the left."

"Is he at home?"

"Yes; he never goes out so early."

The messenger ran hastily up the two flights of stairs, rang at the door, and said to the servant who answered the bell:

"I would like to speak to Monsieur Vermoncey."

"What do you want of him?"

"I have a letter for him."

"Give it to me; I will hand it to him."

"Oh! no, I must give it into his own hands."

"But monsieur is breakfasting. However, I'll go and tell him. Wait."

"But tell him that it is very urgent, most important."

The servant left Paul in the reception-room, frantic with impatience. At last the man returned, and ushered him into the room where Monsieur Vermoncey was breakfasting.

Albert's father looked up at the young man, who seemed to be profoundly agitated. Paul's interesting and by no means ordinary face prepossessed everybody in his favor; Monsieur Vermoncey addressed him kindly:

"You wish to speak to me, my friend?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"You have a letter for me, I understand?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Give it to me."

"Oh! pardon me; but I must tell you first under what circ.u.mstances it was handed to me."

"Very well, go on. But you seem much excited, my friend; try to be calm.

If you have come in behalf of some unfortunate person, I will try to grant his request."

"Oh! it isn't that, monsieur; this letter that I have brought is from monsieur your son."

"From my son?"

"Yes, monsieur; he handed it to me a few minutes ago, and said: 'If you don't see me again in two hours, take this letter to my father; but not before.'"

"What does it mean?"

"But his friend, the man who was with him, whispered to me: 'Go to Monsieur Vermoncey at once; there's to be a duel.'"

"A duel! O my G.o.d!"

Monsieur Vermoncey rose, took the letter from Paul's hand, and hastily ran his eyes over it.

"The unhappy boy!" he cried; "he says good-bye to me, asks me to forgive him for fighting. Ah! he must have determined to kill me too. But you say it was only a moment ago that Albert gave you this letter?"

"Yes, monsieur--out on the boulevard."

"Ah! then he shall not fight; I will stop this duel. O my G.o.d! my son, the last of my children! to lose him as well would be too horrible!"

Monsieur Vermoncey put on his hat and hastened downstairs, followed by Paul. When they were in the street, he looked anxiously at the messenger, and said:

"You know where this duel is to take place, do you not?"

"No, monsieur; they did not tell me that."

"What! his friend did not tell you?"

"No, I suppose he didn't think of it; and it didn't occur to me to ask him."

"What a misfortune! Where are we to go, then? where shall we find them?"

"One moment, monsieur; they were in a cab in front of the Cafe de Paris; they have not gone to the Bois de Boulogne, for the cab drove away rapidly in the direction of Porte Saint-Denis."

"Then they must be at Vincennes; yes, that must be the place. We will go there. Isn't that a cab yonder? just call it."

"Yes, monsieur."