And here the good creature broke forth as if in spite of herself with passionate expostulation.
“Ah, M. de Jennico, but she suffered! Oh, if you would atone, leave her now, leave her at least in peace! You have brought enough sorrow already into her life. Ach! I do not know how it has been between you; but now that she thinks you dead, for God’s sake let it be!”
“By Heaven, Madam,” cried I, half mad, I believe, between pain, remorse, and fury, “these are strange counsels! Do you forget that we are man and wife, and this by her own doing? But truly I need not be surprised, for you do not hesitate before crime at the Court of Lausitz, and if murder be so lightly condoned, sure it is that bigamy must seem a very peccadillo.”
Madam Lothner stared at me with startled eyes and dropping jaw.
“Murder,” she whispered, “M. de Jennico! what terrible thing do you say?”
Then she put her hand to her head, ejaculating: “True, it was the Margrave himself who brought us news of your death on his return from England. It was in the English papers. I feared I know not what, but this—this—God save us!”
I looked at her in fresh bewilderment. She was as one seized by overwhelming terror. I felt that her emotion had its origin in causes still unknown to me.
“And who is the Margrave?” I cried quickly.
She lowered her voice to the barest breath of sound, and glanced fearfully over her shoulder as if afraid of eavesdroppers even in this retired room.