After a moment's silence, Martial said, kindly, "And I ought, in my turn, to try and console you who are so sad. My wife and I hope that when we have left Paris this will cease."
"Yes," said the Chourineur, with a shudder, "if I leave Paris!"
"Why, we go this evening!"
"Yes,—you do; you go this evening!"
"And have you changed your intention, then?"
"No! Yet, Martial, you'll laugh at me; but yet I will tell you all. If anything happens to me it will prove that I am not deceived. When M. Rodolph asked if we would go to Algeria together, I told you my mind at once, and also what I had been."
"Yes, you did; let us mention it no more. You underwent your punishment, and are now as good as any one. But, like myself, I can imagine you would like to go and live a long way off, instead of living here, where, however honest we may be, they might at times fling in your teeth a misdeed you have atoned for and repented, and, in mine, my parents' crimes, for which I am by no means responsible. The past is the past between us, and we shall never reproach each other."
"With you and me, Martial, the past is the past; but, you see, Martial, there is something above,—I have killed a man!"
"A great misfortune, assuredly; but, at the moment, you were out of your senses,—mad. And besides, you have since saved the lives of other persons, and that will count in your favour."
"I'll tell you why I refer to my misdeed. I used to have a dream, in which I saw the sergeant I killed. I have not had it for a long time until last night, and that foretells some misfortune for to-day. I have a foreboding that I shall not quit Paris."