Well, well; how uncertain life is! Who would have thought dear Bellanger would have--" Gabriel rose hastily, and interrupted the widow's pathetic reflections.
"I only ran in to say Bon jour.

I must leave you now." "Adieu, my dear boy,--not a word on the miniature! By the by, here's a shirt-pin for you,--tu es joli comme un amour." All was clear now to Gabriel; it was necessary to get rid of him, and forever.

Dalibard might dread his attachment to Lucretia,--he would dread still more his closer intimacy with the widow of Bellanger, should that widow wed again, and Dalibard, freed like her (by what means ?), be her choice! Into that abyss of wickedness, fathomless to the innocent, the young villanous eye plunged, and surveyed the ground; a terror seized on him,--a terror of life and death.

Would Dalibard spare even his own son, if that son had the power to injure?
This mission, was it exile only,--only a fall back to the old squalor of his uncle's studio; only the laying aside of a useless tool?
Or was it a snare to the grave?
Demon as Dalibard was, doubtless the boy wronged him.

But guilt construes guilt for the worst.
Gabriel had formerly enjoyed the thought to match himself, should danger come, with Dalibard; the hour had come, and he felt his impotence.