hunger--and--"

Rudolph could not finish, but cried in a heartrending voice:

"And this was my daughter! my child!"

"Imprecations on my head!" murmured Sarah, concealing her face in her
hands, as if she had feared the light of day.

"Yes," cried Rudolph, "imprecations on you! for it is your abandonment of
this child which has caused all these horrors. Maledictions on you! for
when, rescuing her from this filth, I had placed her in a peaceable
retreat, you had her torn away by your miserable accomplices. Maledictions
on you! for this again placed her in the power of Jacques Ferrand."

At this name, Rudolph stopped suddenly. He shuddered as if he had
pronounced it for the first time. It was because he now pronounced this
name for the first time since he had known that his daughter was the victim
of that monster. The features of the prince assumed then a frightful
expression of rage and hatred. Silent, immovable, he remained, as it were,
crushed by this thought--that the murderer of his child still lived. Sarah,
notwithstanding her increasing weakness, was struck by his sinister look;
she feared for herself.

"Alas! what is the matter with you?" she murmured, in a trembling voice.
"Is it not enough of suffering?"

"No; it is not enough!" cried Rudolph, responding to his own thoughts. "I
have never before experienced--never! such a desire for vengeance--a thirst
for blood--a calm, reflecting rage! When I did not know that one of the