By Napoleon’s orders he had gone to restore to the Russian Emperor the private property seized at the battle of Dresden, in exchange for which Napoleon hoped to get back Vandamme.  The Czar rewarded General Hulot very handsomely, giving him this casket, and saying that he hoped one day to show the same courtesy to the Emperor of the French; but he kept Vandamme.  The Imperial arms of Russia were displayed in gold on the lid of the box, which was inlaid with gold.

The Marshal counted the bank-notes it contained; he had a hundred and fifty-two thousand francs.  He saw this with satisfaction.  At the same moment Madame Hulot came into the room in a state to touch the heart of the sternest judge.  She flew into Hector’s arms, looking alternately with a crazy eye at the Marshal and at the case of pistols.

“What have you to say against your brother?  What has my husband done to you?” said she, in such a voice that the Marshal heard her.

“He has disgraced us all!” replied the Republican veteran, who spoke with a vehemence that reopened one of his old wounds.  “He has robbed the Government!  He has cast odium on my name, he makes me wish I were dead—­he has killed me!—­I have only strength enough left to make restitution!

“I have been abased before the Conde of the Republic, the man I esteem above all others, and to whom I unjustifiably gave the lie—­the Prince of Wissembourg!—­Is that nothing?  That is the score his country has against him!”

He wiped away a tear.

“Now, as to his family,” he went on.  “He is robbing you of the bread I had saved for you, the fruit of thirty years’ economy, of the privations of an old soldier!  Here is what was intended for you,” and he held up the bank-notes.  “He has killed his Uncle Fischer, a noble and worthy son of Alsace who could not—­as he can—­endure the thought of a stain on his peasant’s honor.

“To crown all, God, in His adorable clemency, had allowed him to choose an angel among women; he has had the unspeakable happiness of having an Adeline for his wife!  And he has deceived her, he has soaked her in sorrows, he has neglected her for prostitutes, for street-hussies, for ballet-girls, actresses—­Cadine, Josepha, Marneffe!  —­And that is the brother I treated as a son and made my pride!

“Go, wretched man; if you can accept the life of degradation you have made for yourself, leave my house!  I have not the heart to curse a brother I have loved so well—­I am as foolish about him as you are, Adeline—­but never let me see him again.  I forbid his attending my funeral or following me to the grave.  Let him show the decency of a criminal if he can feel no remorse.”

The Marshal, as pale as death, fell back on the settee, exhausted by his solemn speech.  And, for the first time in his life perhaps, tears gathered in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

“My poor uncle!” cried Lisbeth, putting a handkerchief to her eyes.