‘Is Camille within?’ asked Sainte-Croix, with an assumption of intimacy with Theria.
An answer was given in the negative.
‘The Marchioness of Brinvilliers is here, I believe?’ continued Gaudin. And, without waiting for a reply, he added, ‘Will you tell her she is wanted on most pressing business?’
The woman retired and closed the window. Immediately afterwards he heard footsteps approaching; the outer door opened, and Madame de Brinvilliers appeared.
A stifled scream of fear and surprise, yet sufficiently intense to show her emotion at the presence of Gaudin, broke from her lips as she recognised him. But, directly, she recovered her impassibility of features—that wonderful calmness and innocent expression which afterwards was so severely put to the proof without being shaken—and asked, with apparent unconcern—
‘Well, monsieur, what do you want with me?’
‘Marie!’ exclaimed Gaudin; ‘let me ask your business here, at this hour, unattended, and in the apartment of a scholar of the Hôtel Dieu?’
‘You are mad, Sainte-Croix,’ said the Marchioness; ‘am I to be accountable to you for all my actions? M. Theria is not here, and I came to see his wife on my own affairs.’
‘Liar!’ cried Gaudin, as he quivered with jealous rage, seizing the arm of the Marchioness with a clutch of iron. ‘Theria is within, and you came to meet him only. You know that woman is not his wife; though many there be less constant. You would wean his love from her, and make him cast her upon the world, that you might be installed as his paramour. You see, I know all—in another moment she also shall be acquainted with everything.’
Sainte-Croix had spoken much of this upon mere chance, but it proved to be correct. In an instant the accustomed firmness of the Marchioness deserted her, and she fell upon her knees at his feet, on the cold, damp floor of the landing.