A woman advanced and knelt by the side of Francine. It was Irène de Salves.
"What does this senseless comedy mean?" asked the Marquis de Fongereues, angrily.
"It is no comedy, it is a horrible tragedy," answered Fanfar, coldly. "Ask what explanations you please from your son; he must answer you. See how he trembles; ask him if what I have said is not true?"
Talizac made a violent effort, and turning to his father, said, "This man lies!"
"And I, sir, swear that he speaks the truth!" cried Arthur de Montferrand. "Ah! Monsieur de Talizac, you forget too quickly; but my memory recalls the fact that the marks now on your face were imprinted yesterday by my hand, when you attacked me with a knife, because I endeavored to prevent you from committing this crime!"
"Liar!" shouted Talizac. Then turning to the crowd of spectators: "Gentlemen," he said, "I am the victim of a most monstrous calumny, and I call on you to treat this scoundrel with his trumped-up tale as he deserves!"
Not one moved. Fanfar, with folded arms, stood looking at them.
"She lives!" cried Irène. "She breathes! Mother, dear mother, permit this girl to be carried to our home. I will bring her back to life; you will give me permission?" she asked, turning to Fanfar.
"She is my sister!" said Fanfar.
Irène imprinted a kiss on Francine's brow. This was her reply to Fanfar's words.