"Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! deliver me from this infamous creature!"
"So that after the tragic event," continued Iris, imperturbably, "M. de Brévannes could have no reproach to cast upon you, and you would close your door upon him without a word of explanation. Brévannes will be furious, but what can he say or do? The Black Book is in my hand-writing; he has not even a note of yours; besides, if he dared to complain, he must first confess the shameless calculations with which he almost provoked his own dishonour, in order to be justified in killing his wife and your husband. But he dares not, for he would inspire as much contempt as horror. Don't you think so, godmother?"
"Leave me, I tell you; go—go—you horrify me!"
"Mon Dieu! What am I doing beyond exposing to you the good and the ill? Now you are free—choose!"
"Monster! you know very well the drift of such language, and the criminal hopes which you evoke before my thoughts!"
"Am I a monster to bid you choose between good and ill? Is virtue then so terrible a thing to practise that it costs as many tears as crime?"
"Heaven have mercy upon me!"
"One last word, godmother. I may have played on certain passions in order to prepare certain events, but it no longer depends on me to regulate their progress, for they seem to hasten, and even to-morrow it may be too late. If you are decided on the good, that is to say, on preventing your husband from incurring the danger that impends over him and M. de Brévannes from the mystification of which he is the dupe, act without delay—this day—this hour—this instant. One hour's delay may destroy all—that is to say, may gain every thing for the interests of your love."
At this moment a valet-de-chambre entered after having knocked at the door.
"What is it?" inquired Paula.