"Wounded him!—Oh! I did better than that—I killed him, madame. A superb thrust, which ran him through. If he recovers, it will surprise me greatly.—But what is the matter, madame? You turn pale!"
"Yes, monsieur; in truth, I do not feel well—the anxiety I have suffered to-night, and—— But a night's rest will restore me. Be good enough to send Miretta here."
"On the instant.—Really, I am deeply touched by your interest in me; but, as you see, I did not receive the slightest scratch."
"Yes, monsieur, yes; that sets my mind at rest. And—that unhappy man—whom you killed—what has become of him?"
"Whatever God wills should become of him.—For myself, my dear love, you will understand that the best thing for me to do was to come away at once! The law concerning duels is very severe!—But Joseph alone was our witness, and I am sure of that fellow's fidelity.—Come, marchioness, be reassured; take some rest; no more anxiety. I will send Miretta to you."
The marquis left the room. Valentine sat perfectly still, as if she were overwhelmed. Her brow was blanched, her eyes shone with a sombre fire; it was evident that a cruel thought absorbed all her senses. It was in this condition that Miretta found her when she entered the room.
"Did madame send for me? Madame seems to be suffering," said the girl, as she observed her mistress. "But monsieur le marquis has returned—so that he must have been the victor, and madame is avenged!"
Valentine raised her head and flashed a terrible glance at her confidante, crying:
"Avenged! unhappy girl! Why, do you not know that I am a miserable, infamous wretch?—For that man has killed him! He has killed him! and I am the cause of it; it was I who gave him that assignation, who laid the snare for Léodgard, by making him believe that I loved him!—Yes, I did love him! I did not lie! I tried to deceive myself concerning my feelings; I tried to delude myself. I told myself that he had disdained me, that I should wreak vengeance upon him for his scorn. I told myself that! But in the bottom of my heart I always loved him. I wanted to see him at my feet, to hear him make sweet protestations of love. I saw him there, and I caused his death! I killed him!—Oh! I have a horror of myself! I am unworthy of pity! And I would give my life now to undo the evil I have done!"
Miretta seemed more surprised than moved by her mistress's despair. She contented herself with saying: