“I am much distressed, but not astonished,” said the doctor to madame. “I always thought his madness absolutely incurable.”
“Ah! doctor, he destroyed all the pictures. I have not even his portrait.”
“You shall have it, madame,” said the doctor.
Eight days afterwards the doctor kept his promise. He brought the baroness a photograph.
Madame de Brienne was profoundly agitated, and nearly fainted.
“Oh! what a resemblance,” she gasped, “what a resemblance! Doctor, how was it done? This is not natural. It is not his portrait, it is himself. He is going to speak. I am afraid!”
There was horror in the astonishment of the poor woman. She threw upon her husband and herself a first glance.
“But tell me, doctor, where did you find it?”
“Allow me to keep the secret, madame.”
In reality, the thing was very simple: they had only photographed the picture of the great artist—Cain after his Crime.