At this moment his eyes were fixed on Fleur-de-Marie, whom he had not yet perceived. Astonishment was painted on his dying face, he started, and said, "Oh! La Goualeuse."
"Yes, she is my daughter. She blesses you for having preserved her father."
"She—your daughter! here—that reminds me of our acquaintance—M. Rudolph—and the—blows with the fists—at the end—but—this—blow with the knife—will be also—the blow—of the end. I have slashed—I am slashed—it is fair play!"
Then he uttered a deep sigh, his head falling backward—he was dead!
The noise of horses resounded without; the carriage of Rudolph had met that of Murphy and David, who, in their eagerness to rejoin the prince, had hastened their departure. David and the squire entered.
"David," said Rudolph, wiping away his tears, and pointing to the Slasher, "is there no hope?"
"None, your highness," said the doctor, after a minute's examination.
During this minute, a mute but frightful scene passed between
Fleur-de-Marie and the Ogress, which Rudolph had not noticed. When the
Slasher pronounced in a low tone the name of La Goualeuse, the Ogress
raising her head, had quickly seen Fleur-de-Marie. Already the horrible
woman had recognized Rudolph in the person whom they called his highness.
He called La Goualeuse his daughter. Such a transformation stupefied the
Ogress, who kept her staring eyes obstinately fixed on her former victim.
Fleur-de-Marie, pale and alarmed, seemed fascinated by this look. The death of the Slasher, the unexpected appearance of the Ogress, who had just awakened more grievously than ever the remembrance of her former degradation, seemed to her of mournful presage. From this moment, Fleur-de-Marie was struck with one of those presentiments which often have, on characters like hers, an irresistible influence.
* * * * *
A short time after these sad events, Rudolph and his daughter had left
Paris forever.