"You are thorough in your opinions, Edward."
"I do not believe in half-heartedness, Adelaide."
The arrangements within the house were complete and admirable. For the Advocate's wife, a boudoir and reception-rooms into which new fashions had been introduced with judgment so good as not to jar with the old furnishings which had adorned them for many generations. For the Advocate a study, with a library which won from him cordial approval; a spacious and commodious apartment, neither overloaded with furniture nor oppressive with bare spaces; with an outlook from one window to the snow regions of Mont Blanc, from another to the city of Geneva, which was now bathed in a soft, mellow light. This tender evidence of departing day was creeping slowly downwards into the valleys from mount and city, a moving picture of infinite beauty.
They visited the study last; Adelaide had been loud in her praises of the house and its arrangement, commending this and that, and declaring that everything was perfect. While she was examining the furniture in the study the Advocate turned to the principal writing-table, upon which lay a pile of newspapers. He took up the first of these, and instinctively searched for the subject which had not left his mind since his visit to the banker, Jacob Hartrich--the murder of Madeline the flower-girl. He was deep in the perusal of fresh details, confirmatory of Gautran's guilt, when he was aroused by a stifled cry of alarm from Adelaide. With the newspaper still in his hand, he looked up and asked what had alarmed her. She laughed nervously, and pointed to an old sideboard upon which a number of hideous faces were carved. To some of the faces bodies were attached, and the whole of this ancient work of art was extravagant enough to have had for its inspiration the imaginings of a madman's brain.
"I thought I saw them moving," said Adelaide. The Advocate smiled, and said:
"It is the play of light over the figures that created the delusion; they are harmless, Adelaide."
The glow of sunset shone through a painted window upon the faces, which to a nervous mind might have seemed to be animated with living colour.
"Look at that frightful head," said Adelaide; "it is really stained with blood."
"And now," observed the Advocate, "the blood-stain fades away, and in the darker light the expression grows sad and solemn."
"I should be frightened of this room at night," said Adelaide, with a slight shiver; "I should fancy those hideous beings were only waiting an opportunity to steal out upon me for an evil purpose."