but I cannot reply to your question. The events of the past few days
have dug a deep abyss between you and me. Do not endeavor to pass it.
Why should we ever meet again? I must say to you, what I said only
yesterday to Abbe Midon. If you are my friend, you will never come here
again--never--by night or by day, or under any pretext whatever. Even if
they tell you that I am dying, do not come. This house is fatal. And if
you meet me, turn away; shun me as you would a pestilence whose touch is
deadly!"

The baron was silent. This was in substance what Marie-Anne had said to
him, only under another form.

"But there is still a wiser course that you might pursue. Everything
here is certain to augment the sorrow and despair which afflicts your
son. There is not a path, nor a tree, nor a flower which does not
cruelly remind him of his former happiness. Leave this place; take him
with you, and go far away."

"Ah! how can I do this? Fouche has virtually imprisoned me here."

"All the more reason why you should listen to my advice. You were a
friend of the Emperor, hence you are regarded with suspicion; you are
surrounded by spies. Your enemies are watching for an opportunity
to ruin you. The slightest pretext would suffice to throw you into
prison--a letter, a word, an act capable of being misconstrued. The
frontier is not far off; go, and wait in a foreign land for happier
times."

"That is something which I will not do," said M. d'Escorval, proudly.