He had been caught at the gaming-table with his hands full of duplicate cards; he had been tracked all over Europe by the police, and obliged to fly from city to city under an assumed name; he had sold to cowards his skilful handling of the sword and pistol; he had been repeatedly thrown into prison, and always made his escape.  He had braved everything, and feared nothing.  He had often conceived and carried out the most criminal plans, without the slightest hesitation or remorse.  And now here he sat, utterly bewildered, unable to think clearly; his usual impudence and ready cunning seemed to have deserted him.

Thus driven to the wall, he saw no means of escape, and was almost tempted to confess all, and throw himself upon his brother’s clemency.  Then he thought that it would be wiser to borrow a large sum from Gaston, and fly the country.

Vainly did he think over the wicked experiences of the past:  none of the former successful stratagems could be resorted to in the present case.

Fatally, inevitably, he was about to be caught in a trap laid by himself.

The future was fraught with danger, worse than danger—­ruin and disgrace.

He had to fear the wrath of M. Fauvel, his wife and niece.  Gaston would have speedy vengeance the moment he discovered the truth; and Raoul, his accomplice, would certainly turn against him, and become his most implacable enemy.

Was there no possible way of preventing a meeting between Valentine and Gaston?

None that he could think of.

Their meeting would be his destruction.

Lost in reflection, he paid no attention to the flight of time.  Daybreak still found him sitting at the window with his face buried in his hands, trying to come to some definite conclusion what he should say and do to keep Gaston away from Paris.

“It is vain for me to think,” he muttered.  “The more I rack my brain, the more confused it becomes.  There is nothing to be done but gain time, and wait for an opportunity.”

The fall of the horse at Clameran was what Louis called “an opportunity.”

He closed the window, and, throwing himself upon the bed, was soon in a sound sleep; being accustomed to danger, it never kept him awake.

At the breakfast-table, his calm, smiling face bore no traces of a wakeful, anxious night.

He was in a gayer, more talkative mood than usual, and said he would like to ride over the country, and visit the neighboring towns.  Before leaving the table, he had planned several excursions which were to take place during the week.

He hoped to keep Gaston so amused and occupied, that he would forget all about going to Paris in search of Valentine.

He thought that with time, and skilfully put objections, he could dissuade his brother from seeking out his former love.  He relied upon being able to convince him that this absolutely unnecessary interview would be painful to both, embarrassing to him, and dangerous to her.