"I grant all; for if you have this blind confidence in me—do you see, Jacques—it will no longer be the ideal lover of the song I call. It is to you, my tiger, you, that I shall say come—come—come."
"Oh, you will be mine. I shall be your tiger," cried he; "and then, if you will, you shall dishonor me—my head shall fall. My honor, my life, all is yours now,"
"Your honor?"
"My honor! Listen; ten years since an infant was confided to my care, and two hundred thousand francs for its support; I have abandoned this child. I spread the report the child was dead, and I kept the money."
"It was bold and skillful—who would have thought it of you?"
"Listen again: I hated my cashier, François Germain. One night he took from me a little gold, which he returned the next day; but to ruin him, I accused him of having robbed me of a considerable sum. I was believed, he was thrown into prison. Now my honor is at your mercy."
"Oh, you love me, Jacques, you love me. To inform me thus of your secrets—what empire I must have over you! I will not be ungrateful; let me kiss this forehead, where so many infernal thoughts were created."
"Oh!" cried the notary, stammering, "if the scaffold stood there, ready, I would not draw back. Listen again: this child, Fleur-de-Marie, once abandoned, crosses my path—she inspires me with fears; I have had her killed!"
"You? How? where?"
"A few days since—near Asnières Bridge, by Ravageurs' Island. One named Martial drowned her in a boat. Are these details sufficient? do you believe me?"