At this moment the storm was at its height; a chimney, blown down by the violence of the wind, fell on the roof and into the court with a noise like thunder. Jacques Ferrand, suddenly aroused from his state of torpor, moved on the bed. A hollow groan attracted the attention of Polidori.
"He is awaking from his stupor," said he, approaching him slowly.
"Polidori," murmured Jacques Ferrand, still stretched on the bed, and with his eyes closed. "Polidori, what noise was that?"
"A chimney has fallen down," answered Polidori, in a low tone; "a frightful hurricane shakes the house to its foundations. The night is horrible, horrible!"
The notary did not hear, and half turning his head, whispered, "Polidori, are you there?"
"Yes, yes, I am here," said Polidori, in a louder voice; "but I answered softly, fearing to affect your hearing, as I did a few moments ago."
"No, now your voice reaches my ear without causing me those painful sufferings; for it seemed to me, at the least noise, as if a thunderbolt had broken in my head. And yet, in the midst of all this noise, of these sufferings without name, I distinguished the voice of Cecily calling me."
"Always this infernal woman—always. But drive away these thoughts, they will kill you."
"Drive them away!" cried Jacques Ferrand; "oh! never, never!"
"What mad fury! It alarms me."