cated them to Albert, praising the goodness of
his heart, his talent, and his dramatic triumphs.
The epistle was signed, for very good reasons,
with a name which was not actually that of the
author. All men, without exception, are fond of
praise; but dramatic artists are so avid of the
incense, that, when deprived of it, they pine away,
like creatures that are stinted of vital air. Albert
was neither better nor worse than the rest of his
colleagues in this respect, and could not feel
otherwise than pleased with the compliments in
rhyme addressed to him. He thanked the
versificator, and, as in duty bound, invited him
to call on him, Lacenaire took advantage of
the permission, and paid frequent visits to his
new acquaintance. Their conversation almost
always turned upon theatrical matters.

"I like your acting," he often said to Albert.
"It stirs me and lays hold of me. You
sometimes carry your effects to the utmost,
occasionally you even exaggerate; but there is no
harm in that. On the stage, you know, you
must hit hard to strike home. That's Voltaire's
opinion; and I had rather see you outstretch
the meaning of a part than leave the public
uninformed of the intention of the character."
After every new creation the actor received
from his habitual admirer the warmest
compliments, occasionally mingled with just and
intelligent criticisms. His guest, moreover, was
a strict observer of the rules of politeness, full of
tact and knowledge of the world, who never
committed an indiscretion, nor intruded himself
on the artist's friends who happened to be
thrown in his way.

All at once the familiar disappeared; and, after
a certain time, his host forgot him. A few months
later, all Paris was in excitement about a trial.
Albert, like everybody else, was tempted to
witness the development of this judicial drama, and
made his way into the Palace of Justice. He
obtained a place very near the bench. What was his
surprise, on glancing at the three accomplices,
to recognise in the grand criminal his panegyrist
of the Ambigu, the accustomed laureat of his
triumphs! Lacenaire, smiling, gave him a
slight but friendly nod; Albert, overcome by
the shock, was seized on the spot with jaundice,
which he did not get rid of for a couple of years.

Lacenaire, an amateur of the drama, and
short of cash, had previously paid a visit to
M. Scribe, the fertile dramatic author, with
the intention of putting his liberality to the
test, and in case of refusal, of nailing him
with a dagger to his desk, and then making off
with anything he could lay hands upon. M.
Scribe, without allowing him to finish his story,
took a couple of Louis d'or out of a drawer,
and said,

"Accept this; you are in distress. I have
no occasion to learn any further particulars."

Lacenaire, touched by his generosity,
stammered out his thanks and retired.

"Note the effect of benevolence!" he afterwards
said. "I went to M. Scribe with the
intention of murdering him; but ever since that
day, I remember him with gratitude."

The adventure which led to the final
catastrophe was this. In 1829, at Poissy, Lacenaire
became acquainted with one Chardon, a thief.
Chardon tried to hide his vices under the
mask of religion, and sold devotional emblems
made of spun glass. He tacked to his name
the title "Brother of the Charity of Sainte-
Camille," and in a petition addressed to the
Queen Marie Amélie, he prayed for the
establishment of a conventual hospital for men. He
lodged with his aged mother, the widow Chardon,
on a first floor in the Passage of the Cheval
Rouge, between the Rue St. Martin and the
Rue du Ponceau. Lacenaire had a deadly
quarrel in prison with Chardon about money
matters, and ever since their liberation they
carefully avoided each other.

One Germain, also an ex-prisoner of Poissy,
called unexpectedly on Bâton, his friend, and
found him busy writing with Lacenaire. He
immediately reported the circumstance to Chardon,
whom he constantly visited, bitterly hating
him all the while.

"They are up to forgery," said the pretended
Brother of Charity, with that instinctive
certainty peculiar to old offenders—and he was
right! "But Lacenaire had better take care.
I will get him arrested!"

Germain, who was the most perfidious and
active of mischief-makers, lost no time in
acquainting Lacenaire with the temper of his old
companion in captivity, assuring him, besides,
that Chardon kept in a closet a quantity of silver
plate, and of large gold pieces with the effigy of
Henri the Fifth, and, amongst other sums of
money, a donation of ten thousand francs from
Queen Marie Amélie, destined to the building
of the conventual hospital invented by the false
begging friar.

"Chardon is easy enough to clean out,"
added Germain, in Bâton's presence. "All
you want is false keys, which I can get you, as
well as rendering other services. What say you
to the job ?"

"That I'll have nothing to do with it,"
replied Lacenaire, mistrusting both of the parties
present. "I have no faith in Chardon's money,
and, in any case, I am the last man to do him an
injury." He had conceived a surer pian than
that. "If I rob him with false keys," he
thought, "he knows very well whom to suspect;
but if I silence him——"

So he spoke to Avril of the closet in question
as if it had been a gold mine, inflaming his
imagination, but giving no hint of intended murder ;
all the while, he insisted strongly on the risk
they ran, from Chardon and his mother, after
the robbery. Avril then proposed to make an
end of the mother and son; it was what
Lacenaire wanted. The bargain was made.

But next day, Avril had considered the matter.
"I can't make up my mind," he said. "I know
what you are ; as soon as you have got me
under your thumb, you will——"

"Those who are not first to betray me, never
need fear anything."

"I don't care. l can't make up my mind to-day."