"He has bad health."

"No," said Gabriel, with a downcast eye and a strange smile, "he has not
bad health; but he may not be long-lived."

"How do you mean?" asked Lucretia, sinking her voice into a still lower
whisper, while a shudder, she scarce knew why, passed over her frame.

"What does my father do," resumed Gabriel, "in that room at the top of
the house? Does he tell you that secret?"

"He makes experiments in chemistry. You know that that was always his
favourite study. You smile again! Gabriel, do not smile so; it appalls
me. Do you think there is some mystery in that chamber?"

"It matters not what we think, belle-mere; it matters much what we know.
If I were you, I would know what is in that chamber. I repeat, to be
safe, you must have all his secrets, or none. Hush, that is his step!"

The door-handle turned noiselessly, and Olivier entered. His look fell
on his son's face, which betrayed only apparent surprise at his
unexpected return. He then glanced at Lucretia's, which was, as usual,
cold and impenetrable.

"Gabriel," said Dalibard, gently, "I have come in for you. I have
promised to take you to spend the day at M. Bellanger's; you are a great
favourite with Madame. Come, my boy. I shall be back soon, Lucretia. I
shall but drop in to leave Gabriel at my cousin's."