"This is not possible! This cannot last! He is not altogether mad is he?" cried Louise, in a heart-rending tone, "He will come to himself— it is only momentary——"
"Morel, my friend," said Rudolph, "we are here. Your daughter is alongside of you; she is innocent."
"Thirteen hundred francs," said the artisan, without looking at
Rudolph, and continuing his imaginary occupation.
"Father," cried Louise, throwing herself at his feet, and taking hold of his hands, "it is I, Louise!"
"Thirteen hundred francs," repeated he, endeavoring to disengage himself from Louise; "thirteen hundred francs, or else," added he, in a low and confidential tone, "or else Louise is guillotined," and he began to turn his wheel.
Louise uttered a piercing cry. "He is mad," cried she, "he is mad! and it is I—I—who am the cause. Oh, yet it Is not my fault; I did not wish to do wrong; it is this monster!"
"Come, poor child, courage!" said Rudolph, "let us hope. This madness will be but momentary. Your father has suffered too much, his reason has become weakened, he will get better."
"But my mother—my grandmother—my brothers and sister! what will become of them?" cried Louise. "See, they are deprived of both my father and myself. They will die with hunger, with poverty, and despair!"
"Am I not here? Be calm, they shall want for nothing. Courage, I pray you: your revelation will cause the punishment of a great criminal. You have convinced me of your innocence; it shall certainly be known and acknowledged."
"Oh, sir, you see dishonor—madness—death; these are the evils he has caused—this man; nothing can be done to him—nothing. Ah, this thought completes all my troubles!"