Bigot was too much absorbed in his own tumultuous feelings to notice Cadet's remark. He allowed himself to be led without resistance to another room, out of sight of the murdered girl, in whose presence Cadet knew calm council was impossible.
Cadet seated Bigot on a couch and, sitting beside him, bade him be a man and not a fool. He tried to rouse Bigot by irritating him, thinking, in his coarse way, that that was better than to be maudlin over him, as he considered it, with vain expressions of sympathy.
“I would not give way so,” said he, “for all the women in and out of Paradise! and you are a man, Bigot! Remember you have brought me here, and you have to take me safely back again, out of this den of murder.”
“Yes, Cadet,” replied Bigot, rousing himself up at the sharp tone of his friend. “I must think of your safety; I care little for my own at this moment. Think for me.”
“Well, then, I will think for you, and I think this, Bigot, that if the Governor finds out this assassination, done in your house, and that you and I have been here at this hour of night with the murdered girl, by God! he will say we have alone done it, and the world will believe it! So rouse up, I for one do not want to be taxed with the murder of a woman, and still less to be hung innocently for the death of one. I would not risk my little finger for all the women alive, let alone my neck for a dead one!”
The suggestion was like a sharp probe in his flesh. It touched Bigot to the quick. He started up on his feet. “You are right, Cadet, it only wants that accusation to make me go mad! But my head is not my own yet! I can think of nothing but her lying there, dead in her loveliness and in her love! Tell me what to do, and I will do it.”
“Ay, now you talk reasonably. Now you are coming to yourself, Bigot. We came to remove her alive from here, did we not? We must now remove her dead. She cannot remain where she is at the risk of certain discovery to-morrow.”
“No, the secret chamber would not hide such a secret as that,” replied Bigot, recovering his self-possession. “But how to remove her? We cannot carry her forth without discovery.” Bigot's practical intellect was waking up to the danger of leaving the murdered girl in the Château.
Cadet rose and paced the room with rapid strides, rubbing his forehead, and twitching his mustache violently. “I will tell you what we have got to do, Bigot! Par Dieu! we must bury her where she is, down there in the vaulted chamber.”
“What, bury her?” Bigot looked at him with intense surprise.