He continued to read.
The next letter was in the handwriting of Emilie. She informed the commander of the consequence of the last venture.
Fifth Letter.
“December 16th, nine o’clock in the morning.
“My husband knows the supposed death of the child; his despair borders on madness. His letter terrifies me with its wild and passionate grief. The quarantine ends in fifteen days. I shall not live until that time; my crime will be buried with me, and he will regret me, and he will weep my memory, perhaps. Oh, to deceive, to deceive, to deceive even to the coffin and the grave! God! will he ever forgive me? It is an abyss of terror into which I dare not cast my eyes. This evening, at eleven o’clock, Justine will open the little gate at the park. Pierre, these are solemn farewells, funereal, perhaps. To-morrow, then, to-morrow.”
CHAPTER XXXV. THE MURDERER
A paper, part of which was torn, contained this written confession, in the handwriting of the commander, a few days after the bloody tragedy which he relates. The person to whom it was addressed is unknown. Some passages, tom intentionally, perhaps, seem to refer to a journey, made by the commander in Languedoc at the same period, for the purpose, no doubt, of learning the fate of his unfortunate child.
“And my hands are stained with blood. I have just committed a murder.
“I have assassinated the man against whom I have committed a deadly wrong.