manner that confinement to the carriage had
given them the fidgets, and that they were
walking up the hill to try the remedy of gentle
exercise. Poulailler's heart was touched, and
Poulailler's generosity to the sex was roused in
the nick of time. With a polite apology to the
young ladies, he ran back, by a short cut, to the
ambush on the other side of the hill in which
his men were posted. "Gentlemen!" cried the
generous Thief, "in the charming name of
Wilhelmina de Kirbergen, I charge you all, let the
Baron's carriage pass free."  The band was not
susceptible—the band demurred. Poulailler
knew them. He had appealed to their hearts
in vain—he now appealed to their pockets.
"Gentlemen!" he resumed, "excuse my
momentary misconception of your sentiments,
Here is my one half share of the Marquis
Petrucci's property. If I divide it among you,
will you let the carriage pass free?" The band
knew the value of money—and accepted the
terms. Poulailler rushed back up the hill, and
arrived at the top just in time to hand the
young ladies into the carriage. "Charming
man!" said the white Wilhelmina to the brown
Frederica, as they drove off. Innocent soul!
what would she have said if she had known that
her personal attractions had saved her father's
property? Was she ever to see the charming
man again? Yes: she was to see him the next
day—and, more than that, Fate was hereafter
to link her fast to the robber's life and the
robber's doom.

Confiding the direction of the band to his first
lieutenant, Poulailler followed the carriage on
horseback; and ascertained the place of the
Baron's residence that night.

The next morning a superbly-dressed stranger
knocked at the door. "What name, sir?" said
the servant. "The Marquis Petrucci of Sienna,"
replied Poulailler. "How are the young ladies
after their journey?" The Marquis was shown
in, and introduced to the Baron. The Baron
was naturally delighted to receive a brother
nobleman—Miss Wilhelmina was modestly happy
to see the charming man again—Miss Frederica
was affectionately pleased on her sister's account.
Not being of a disposition to lose time where
his affections were concerned, Poulailler
expressed his sentiments to the beloved object
that evening. The next morning he had an
interview with the Baron, at which he produced
the papers which proved him to be the Marquis.
Nothing could be more satisfactory to the mind
of the most anxious parent—the two noblemen
embraced. They were still in each other's arms,
when a second stranger knocked at the door.
What name, sir?" said the servant. "The
Marquis Petrucci of Sienna," replied the stranger.
"Impossible!"  said the servant;  ''his lordship
is now in the house." "Show me in,
scoundrel," cried the visitor. The servant
submitted, and the two Marquises stood face to
face.  Poulailler's composure was not shaken in
the least; he had come first to the house, and
he had got the papers. "You are the villain
who robbed me!" cried the true Petrucci. " You
are drunk, mad, or an impostor," retorted the
false Petrucci. "Send to Florence, where I am
known," exclaimed one of the Marquises,
apostrophising the Baron. "Send to Florence by
all means," echoed the other, addressing himself
to the Baron also. "Gentlemen," replied the
noble Kirbergen, "I will do myself the honour
of taking your advice"—and he sent to Florence
accordingly.

Before the messenger had advanced ten miles
on his journey, Poulailler had said two words in
private to the susceptible Wilhelmina—and the
pair eloped from the baronial residence that
night. Once more the subject of this Memoir
crossed the frontier and re-entered France.
Indifferent to the attractions of rural life, he
forthwith established himself with the beloved
object in Paris. In that superb city he met with
his strangest adventures, performed his boldest
achievements, committed his most prodigious
robberies, and, in a word, did himself and his
infernal patron the fullest justice, in the
character of the Fiend-Fisherman's Adopted Son.

                               III.

               HIS CAREER IN PARIS.

ONCE established in the French metropolis,
Poulailler planned and executed that vast system
of perpetual robbery and occasional homicide
which made him the terror and astonishment of
all Paris. ln-doors, as well as out, his good
fortune befriended him. No domestic anxieties
harassed his mind and diverted him from the
pursuit of his distinguished public career. The
attachment of the charming creature with whom
he had eloped from Germany survived the
discovery that the Marquis Petrucci was Poulailler
the robber. True to the man of her choice, the
devoted Wilhelmina shared his fortunes, and
kept his house. And why not, if she loved him?
—in the name of Cupid, why not?

Joined by picked men from his German
followers, and by new recruits gathered together
in Paris, Poulailler now set society and its
safeguards at flat defiance. Cartouche himself was
his inferior in audacity and cunning. In course
of time the whole city was panic-stricken by the
new robber and his band—the very Boulevards
were deserted after nightfall. Monsieur
Hérault, lieutenant of police of the period, in
despair of laying hands on Poulailler by any
other means, at last offered a reward of a
hundred pistoles and a place in his office worth
two thousand livres a year to any one who
would apprehend the robber alive. The bills
were posted all over Paris—and, the next morning,
they produced the very last result in the
world which the lieutenant of police could
possibly have anticipated.

Whilst Monsieur Hérault was at breakfast in
his study, the Count de Villeneuve was
announced as wishing to speak to him. Knowing
the Count by name only, as belonging to an
ancient family ia Provence, or in Languedoc,
Monsieur Hérault ordered him to be shown in.
A perfect gentleman appeared, dressed with an