When Cabuche left the room, Jacques detained Séverine by a glance. He looked extremely pale.
"You know very well that it was Flore who pulled on the horses, and barred the line with the blocks of stone," said he.
Séverine in her turn grew pallid.
"Darling, what on earth are you saying?" she answered. "You are getting feverish; you must go to bed again."
"No, no, I am not wandering. Do you hear? I saw her, as I see you," he continued. "She held the cattle, and with her firm fist, prevented the dray advancing."
On hearing this, Séverine, losing her legs, sank down on a chair opposite him.
"Good heavens! good heavens!" she exclaimed. "It strikes terror into one. It is monstrous. I shall never be able to get any sleep."
"Of course," he resumed, "the thing is clear. She attempted to kill us both in the general slaughter. She had been making me advances for a long time, and she was jealous. Coupled with this, she was half off her head, and had all manner of rum ideas. Only think such a number of murders at one stroke—quite a multitude plunged in gore! Ah! the wretch!"
His eyes grew wide open, a nervous twitch drew down his lip, and he held his tongue. They remained looking at one another for fully a minute without speaking. Then, tearing himself from the abominable vision that had risen up between them, he continued in a lower tone:
"Ah! she is dead! So that is why her ghost is here! Since I recovered consciousness she seems to be always present. Again this morning, I turned round thinking her at the head of my bed. Still she is dead, and we are alive. Let us hope she will not avenge herself now!"