“Trust to me,” she said with a smile of perfect security.
The former cashier of the Mutual Credit made a terrible gesture; but, checking himself at once, he seized one of the baroness’s hands. She withdrew it quickly, however, and, in an accent of insurmountable disgust,
“Enough, enough!” she said.
In the adjoining closet Marius de Tregars could feel Mme. Zelie Cadelle shuddering by his side.
“What a wretch that woman is!” she murmured; “and he—what a base coward!”
The former cashier remained prostrated, striking the floor with his head.
“And you would forsake me,” he groaned, “when we are united by a past such as ours! How could you replace me? Where would you find a slave so devoted to your every wish?”
The baroness was getting impatient.
“Stop!” she interrupted,—“stop these demonstrations as useless as ridiculous.”
This time he did start up, as if lashed with a whip and, double locking the door which communicated with the ante-chamber, he put the key in his pocket; and, with a step as stiff and mechanical as that of an automaton, he disappeared in the sleeping-room.