“We were all three in the dark.
“‘Do not kill me before forgiving me!’ cried Emilie.
“‘Oh—you first—him afterwards,’ said Count de Montreuil, in a hollow voice.
“The moment was horrible.
“He advanced irresolutely. I advanced also.
“I wished to meet him and hold him back.
“We said nothing. The silence was profound.
“Nothing was heard but the sound of our oppressed breathing, and the low, spasmodic voice of Emilie, who murmured: ‘Lord have pity on me! Lord have pity on me!’
“Suddenly I felt a hand as cold as marble on my forehead.
“It was the hand of her husband. In seeking her, he had touched me.