Jenny now detested Tremorel. Sometimes she felt the weight of her degradation, and she accused Hector of her present ignominy. She heartily hated him, though she smiled when she saw him, got as much money out of him as she could, and cursed him behind his back. Instead of bursting into tears, she therefore laughed aloud.
"Well done for Tremorel," said she. "Why did he leave me? Good for her too."
"Why so?"
"What did she deceive her husband for? It was she who took Hector from me—she, a rich, married woman! But I've always said Hector was a poor wretch."
"Frankly, that's my notion too. When a man acts as Tremorel has toward you, he's a villain."
"It's so, isn't it?"
"Parbleu! But I'm not surprised at his conduct. For his wife's murder is the least of his crimes; why, he tried to put it off upon somebody else!"
"That doesn't surprise me."
"He accused a poor devil as innocent as you or I, who might have been condemned to death if he hadn't been able to tell where he was on Wednesday night."
M. Lecoq said this lightly, with intended deliberation, so as to watch the impression he produced on Jenny.