Monsieur Gorsay seemed to forget the presence of the physician, and re-descended to his apartment with slow and painful steps. He there passed the remainder of the evening motionless in his arm-chair, with head sunk upon his breast, eyes fixed, and draining drop by drop the inexhaustible sadness in which for many months his heart had been steeped. At eleven o'clock a domestic entering the room, he arose and permitted himself to be undressed with the passiveness of a machine: then, after swallowing a narcotic draught, which his sleeplessness had rendered necessary, he got into bed.
The most profound silence reigned throughout the house; the domestics had long since retired to their apartments. The lethargic sleep of Lucia still continued; and despite the occurrence of the preceding night, the nurse, according to her custom, was slumbering in the arm-chair. At length Monsieur Gorsay fell asleep. Suddenly the old man was aroused by the sound of the window-blind turning upon itself. Opening his eyes, he perceived with amazement, mingled with terror, a large band of silver which the moon projected through the shutters of the Venetian blinds upon the carpet. In a moment this was obscured by the figure of a man, who leaped into the room, and proceeded directly toward the bed with the rapid and stealthy tread of a tiger. Monsieur Gorsay endeavored to rise, but before he could utter a cry, or seize the bell-rope, he was assailed and thrown down by the robber, who with one hand grasped him by the throat, and with the other brandished a long knife, which he had carried open between his teeth.
'Mercy!—Bonnemain!' murmured the old, man, who by the light of the moon had just recognized the murderer.
'Not a word! or I strike!' replied the galley-slave, in a low voice. 'Listen to me: you must get up, open the secretary, and give me the money. If you hold your tongue I will do you no harm; but if you attempt to speak a single word, I will let out your blood like that of a fowl! Do you understand me?'
Frozen with terror, Monsieur Gorsay made a sign of assent. He then arose, with the assistance of Bonnemain, who by way of precaution kept fast hold of his arm, took a key from the pocket of his riding-coat, opened the secretary and drew from the secret cavity the casket filled with gold, upon which, for the last five months, the galley-slave, by night and by day, had not ceased thinking.
'Is this the whole?' said he, as his eyes gloated over the prey.
'It is all that I have here,' replied Monsieur Gorsay, in a half articulate voice; 'but I have some silver in the library; must I go and bring it?'
'Thank you; you might alarm the servants, which would not be so pleasant. Too much appetite is hurtful. I must be content with the rouleaus.'
'Take them then; I give them to you; and I swear never to betray you.'