“If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there.”
“But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!”
“Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond the faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and think—”
At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules Desmarets was stationed.
The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening of the wall, and struck them with terror.
“Go and see what it means, Clemence,” said her father.
Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into Madame Gruget’s apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from the upper floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and caught these words before she entered the fatal chamber:—
“You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,—you are the cause of her death!”
“Hush, miserable woman!” replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on the mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, “Murder! help!”
At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and fled away.