Instinct had suddenly warned her of the danger she incurred in making the slightest change in her habits.
She sent Aunt Medea away, then, at the usual hour, rang for her maid.
It was nearly eleven o’clock, and she was just completing her toilet, when the ringing of the bell announced a visitor.
Almost immediately a maid appeared, evidently in a state of great excitement.
“What is it?” inquired Blanche, eagerly. “Who has come?”
“Ah, Madame—that is, Mademoiselle, if you only knew——”
“Will you speak?”
“The Marquis de Sairmeuse is below, in the blue drawing-room; and he begs Mademoiselle to grant him a few moments’ conversation.”
Had a thunder-bolt riven the earth at the feet of the murderess, she could not have been more terrified.
“All must have been discovered!” this was her first thought. That alone would have brought Martial there.