"By the third clause," Derville went on, with imperturbable coolness,
"you pledge yourself to secure to Hyacinthe Comte Chabert an income of
twenty-four thousand francs on government stock held in his name, to
revert to you at his death--"

"But it is much too dear!" exclaimed the Countess.

"Can you compromise the matter cheaper?"

"Possibly."

"But what do you want, madame?"

"I want--I will not have a lawsuit. I want--"

"You want him to remain dead?" said Derville, interrupting her
hastily.

"Monsieur," said the Countess, "if twenty-four thousand francs a year
are necessary, we will go to law--"

"Yes, we will go to law," said the Colonel in a deep voice, as he
opened the door and stood before his wife, with one hand in his
waistcoat and the other hanging by his side--an attitude to which the
recollection of his adventure gave horrible significance.

"It is he," said the Countess to herself.

"Too dear!" the old soldier exclaimed. "I have given you near on a