The father paused to examine them. There was no doubt of the infamy of the handsome young fellow, who now was standing in the middle of the floor, clothed in the black garments which he had worn the previous night.
"Wretch ! Scoundrel!" cried the Colonel "is it for this that I have been the most loving of fathers? How long have you pursued the trade of robber? But you shall pursue it no longer!"
"There was a flash."
Eugène Durant saw that he had lost the game. He pushed past his father, but at the door was met by Isez, who barred his way. At the same moment, Colonel Durant saw that two pistols lay beside the watch and seal. He lifted one of them; there was a flash; and his son fell bleeding into the arms of Isez.
Not even this pitiable sight—his son murdered and weltering in his blood—could assuage Durant's anger. He poured out fierce words, and filled the house with his cries of rage and reproach. It was only when Isez, staunching the wound, removed one after another the blood-stained rags, which the silent servants brought to him, and when that handsome young face grew whiter and calmer, when the eyes took a fixed glassy stare and the lips trying to speak could but whisper; it was only when death shadowed the face and figure of his child, that Colonel Durant ceased to utter reproaches, and bowed his head in sorrow.
"Father," murmured the pallid lips; "forgive me, if you can."
Durant made no reply.
The dying man spoke again, but no one could hear what he said.
A second time he tried to make himself heard, but in vain. Isez leaned over him and listened; he caught only the words, "Rue du Pot-de-fer."
And then, without another sound or sign, with only one great gasp, the youth died.
Durant was as one stunned. He was led away by his servants, while Isez disposed decently on the bed the corpse of the wretched young man. He had hardly finished this task when Durant came into the room, dressed in his uniform and wearing his orders, his bearing erect, his gait steady, and his eye firm and clear.
"Our horses are ready," said he to Isez, "your horse and mine. You return home. I go to the authorities to give myself up for murder."
What could Isez reply? They rode away together, and as soon as they entered Paris the Colonel went off at a trot, while Isez rode on quietly to his home. He found Manette much alarmed by his absence during the night.
"Was the Duke very bad, dying? Or did you fall in with highwaymen?" This she asked with a smile. Isez made no actual answer, but asked for his coffee. As usual, the old woman was a long time preparing it, and when Isez found fault with her she echoed his complaints, and endorsed his threats. But at length she brought the
