She laughed harshly.
“What do you take me for, Monsieur?” she asked. “A fool? No, no. M. Ribaut will get his niece ten minutes after he has given me the money!”
I could find nothing to say, but sat looking at her in dazed bewilderment and despair.
“It is all arranged,” she continued. “At six o’clock I am to receive ten thousand crowns, in return for which I turn over to him this pretty Nanette. Then I say good-by to Paris and to Mère Fouchon. Ah, do not fear; I shall not forget you, Monsieur. I have the dose here,” and she drew a little vial from the bosom of her dress. “When the door has closed for the last time, Monsieur, I should advise you to drink it at once. It is the easiest way, much pleasanter than starving.”
Still I said nothing.
“Ah, I forgot one thing,” she added, pausing as she turned to go. “At nine o’clock to-morrow morning at the church of St. Landry there will be a ceremony, Monsieur—such a charming ceremony. Can you not guess what? Well, I will tell you. At this ceremony, that pretty little Nanette, whom you love so much, will be transformed into Mme. Jean Briquet.”
I dashed at her with an oath, but the chain jerked me back against the wall. She stood for a moment and laughed at me.
“You see now, Monsieur, do you not, how much wiser it will be to drain that little vial without delay? Suppose you play the coward—suppose you are alive at nine o’clock—you here in this hole, looking death in the face—this enchanting Nanette before the altar looking into the face of her husband! Bah!” and she made a sudden grimace. “I think I should prefer your part, Monsieur. Death itself must be less hideous than Jean Briquet. All the same,” she added, “you will do well to drink with a steady hand—you will find it a pleasant death—a dropping to sleep, sweet dreams, and then—darkness. I know. I have seen others, happy, smiling, sink into the abyss. I will have La Bancale give it to you in the morning,” and she was gone.
I sank down against the wall, dazed at this new stroke of fortune. Give me a day, two days, and escape might be possible—but the bargain had been made; in a few hours it would be too late.
How long I lay there in a half-stupor I do not know, but at last I heard the door open again and Ninon’s voice whispering my name. I groaned for reply.