"I have not touched a penny of the money," interrupted Anselmo, shuddering.
"No, certainly not, you were always unselfish. Well, do not interrupt me. The person who came from Toulon (recte Benedetto) was just about to put the sum of money in his pocket, when the devil sent a stranger who—"
"Benedetto, if you are a human being and not a devil, keep silent," cried Anselmo, beside himself.
Benedetto shrugged his shoulders.
"You are a fool," he said, contemptuously. "I heard two persons on the stairs. I hid behind the door, with a knife in my right hand. The door opened. The shadow of a form appeared in the door, and I struck. I felt the knife sink deep into a human breast."
"Wretch! It was the breast of your mother!" stammered Anselmo.
"Ah, your memory is returning to you," mocked Benedetto, with a cynical smile. "Yes, it was my mother. But how did you know it?"
"I met the unfortunate woman on the way in the gorges of Oliolles—"
"Ah! and there she told you the story of her life."
"She begged me to help her save her son, and I promised to do so; I knew that you were that wretched son."