There came at this moment a hurried knock at the door.
"Come in!" cried the Marquis, angrily.
A valet entered with a very pale face.
"Monsieur! my young master—"
"Ah! he has come!" cried the Marquise, rushing to the door.
But the lacquey extended his arms, as if to stop her.
"Madame!" he began.
"Well! what is it?"
"My young master is dead!" said the lacquey, with trembling lips.
Then there went up the cry of two stricken hearts. The two criminals looked at each other. They must have misunderstood the servant, who now pointed to the stairs, up which were coming men bearing a bier. What was underneath the cloth? Was it their son? Impossible!