"I forgive you."
"My father, the door opens; go to them, that, at least, they may not even suspect you. Besides, if they enter here, they will prevent me from completing,—adieu!"
The steps of several persons were heard in the next room. Florestan placed the muzzle of the pistol to his heart. It went off at the instant when the comte, to avoid the horrid sight, turned away his head, and rushed out of the salon, whose curtains closed upon him.
At the sound of this explosion, at the sight of the comte, pale and haggard, the commissary stopped short at the threshold of the door, making a sign to his agents to pause also.
Informed by Boyer that the vicomte was shut up with his father, the magistrate understood all, and respected his deep grief.
"Dead!" exclaimed the comte, hiding his face in his hands. "Dead!" he repeated in a tone of agony. "It was just,—better death than infamy! But it is horrible!"
"Sir," said the magistrate, sorrowfully, after a few minutes' silence, "spare yourself a painful spectacle,—leave the house. And now I have another duty to fulfil, even more painful than that which summoned me hither."
"You are quite right, sir," said M. de Saint-Remy; "as to the sufferer by this robbery, you will request him to call on M. Dupont, the banker."
"In the Rue Richelieu? He is very well known," replied the magistrate.
"What is the estimated value of the stolen diamonds?"