begged her to honour them with her presence as long as she was able, and
little by little received all her men within the walls. This was what
Catherine was waiting for: on the very day when her army was installed
at Saint Agatha, she suddenly entered the count's room, followed by four
soldiers, and seizing the old man by the throat, exclaimed wrathfully--

"Miserable traitor, you will not escape from our hands before you have
received the punishment you deserve. In the meanwhile, show me where
your treasure is hidden, if you would not have me throw your body out to
feed the crows that are swooping around these dungeons."

The count, half choking, the dagger at his breast, did not even attempt
to call for help; he fell on his knees, begging the empress to save at
least the life of his son, who was not yet well from the terrible attack
of melancholia that had shaken his reason ever since the catastrophe.
Then he painfully dragged himself to the place where he had hidden his
treasure, and pointing with his finger, cried--

"Take all; take my life; but spare my son."

Catherine could not contain herself for joy when she saw spread out
at her feet exquisite and incredibly valuable cups, caskets of pearls,
diamonds and rubies of marvellous value, coffers full of gold ingots,
and all the wonders of Asia that surpass the wildest imagination. But
when the old man, trembling, begged for the liberty of his son as the
price of his fortune and his own life, the empress resumed her cold,
pitiless manner, and harshly replied--

"I have already given orders for your son to be brought here; but
prepare for an eternal farewell, for he is to be taken to the fortress