"Come, my son," said the mad woman; "you will never leave me again, will you?"
She drew him gently along as he walked. He did not attempt to disengage himself; he obeyed the summons as if it were from Death.
The phantom—that is to say, Madame Danglars, the poor, insane creature—had escaped from Fanfar's house by the door which Sanselme left open, and having found her son thus strangely, lavished on him tender words, which in the ear of the dastard were like curses. Thus they reached the shore, and it was not until Benedetto saw the Seine once more before him that he realized what he was doing. He shook off the hand on his wrist and began to run. He saw the wreck a foot or two from the shore, and with one leap he reached it, having little idea of the danger that awaited him there. The mad woman followed him and tried to put her arms around him. "You shall never leave me again, Benedetto!" she murmured.
Sanselme saw and heard it all. It seemed to him that it was some frightful nightmare. She advancing and Benedetto retreating, the two reached the other end of the wreck; their feet slipped, there was a dull sound as they fell, and the water opened to receive them. Sanselme leaned over. He could see nothing, and heard not another sound.
In the morning a corpse was found leaning over the gunwale, with eyes open. One sailor said to another:
"A drunken man the less in the world!"
That was the only funeral sermon preached over Sanselme.