A tear rolled to the edge of his eyelid.
He rushed to the window to call her back, but a hand laid hold of his and the fair girl stood before him.
—Well, Monsieur my uncle, well! And who is that handsome dark girl?
—Ah, my poor Zulma, do not be jealous of her.
—I am jealous of everything, and I want to know.
XCVI.
FINIS CORONAT OPUS.
"No mortal can foresee his fate
Let none despair. Comrades, good night."
BYRON (Mazeppa).
The following evening, the canal toll-collector on the Malzeville road discerned a black shadow which, despite the icy rain, remained for a long time leaning on the parapet of the turn-bridge, then all at once disappeared. He called for help and, a few minutes afterwards, they drew out of the water the body of a young girl of remarkable beauty.