"'In truth,' the count replied, amazed at finding his meaning so thoroughly divined; 'the Prince, my brother-in-law, is a man of extreme prudence, and he had too great an interest in destroying these overwhelming proofs.'"
"'Certainly; and he would not have failed, I feel convinced, to employ the most expeditious means in succeeding; but the Prince was ignorant that these proofs remained in my possession. This is how, whenever he appointed a meeting with me by letter, so soon as I arrived in his presence, I burned a letter exactly like the one I had received from him, in order to prove to him with what good faith I acted, and what confidence I had in him, so that he never supposed I had kept them. In the next place, immediately after your sister's confinement, supposing rightly that the Prince, having succeeded in his object, would desire to get rid of me, I prevented him by leaving the country suddenly. I remained in foreign parts for three years. At the expiration of that period, I spread a report of my death. I managed so that the news should reach the Prince most naturally, and as a certain thing; then I returned here. The Prince never knew my name—we gentlemen adventurers have a custom not only of changing our alias frequently, for an incognito is a safeguard for us—but also of always wearing three or four at once, in order to establish a confusion about ourselves, through which we find ourselves in perfect safety; so that, in spite of his attempts, even if the Prince had made any, of which I am ignorant, he has not succeeded in learning my existence, much less in discovering me.'"
"'But for what object did you keep these letters?'"
"'The very simple one of employing them against him; so as to compel him by the fear of a revelation to supply me with the sums I might require, when I felt inclined to give up my perilous career. As I was suddenly surprised, I could not make the desired use of them, but now I do not regret it.'"
"'I thank you,' the count replied, warmly; 'but cannot I do anything for you in your present extremity, as a recognition of so great a service?'"
"Red Arm looked cautiously around; in order to give the count full liberty to converse with the condemned man, the chaplain and the two officers had retired into the most distant corner of the cell, where they seemed to be talking with great animation."
"'Alas, my lord!' he said, lowering his voice; 'It is too late now. I should have liked—'"
"'Speak, and possibly I may be able to satisfy this last desire.'"
"'Well, be it so. It is not death that terrifies me, but, mounting an ignoble scaffold, to be exposed alive to the laughter and insults of people whom I have so long seen tremble before me: this it is that troubles my last moments, and renders me unhappy. I should like to foil the expectations of the ferocious crowd, who are rejoicing in the hope of my punishment; and that, when the moment arrives, only my corpse should be found. You see clearly that you can do nothing for me, my lord.'"
"'You are mistaken,' he answered, quickly. 'I can, on the contrary, do everything. Not only will I spare you the punishment, but your two comrades, if they like, can escape it by a voluntary death.'"