* * * * *

Paul, my friend—­my brother! where are you?—­all is over!

An hour ago I saw the doctor and the priest coming down.  Monsieur de Malouet was following them.

“Go up,” he told me.  “Come, courage, sir.  Be a man!” I walked into the cell; Madame de Malouet had remained alone there; she was kneeling by the bedside and beckoned me to approach.  I gazed upon her who was about to cease suffering.  A few hours had been enough to stamp upon that lovely face all the ravages of death; but life and thought still lingered in her eyes; she recognized me at once.

“Monsieur,” she began; then, after a pause:  “George, I have loved you much.  Forgive my having embittered your life with the memory of this sad incident!”

I fell on my knees; I tried to speak, I could not; my tears flowed hot and fast upon her hand already cold and inert as a piece of marble.

“And you, too, madam,” she added; “forgive me the trouble I have given you—­the grief I am causing you now.”

“My child!” said the old lady, “I bless you from the bottom of my heart.”

Then there was a pause, in the midst of which I suddenly heard a deep and broken breath—­ah! that supreme breath, that last sob of a deadly sorrow; God also has heard it, has received it!

He has heard it—­He hears also my ardent, my weeping prayer.  I must believe that He does, my friend.  Yes, that I may not yield at this moment to some temptation of despair, I must firmly believe in a God who loves us, who looks with compassionate eyes upon the anguish of our feeble hearts—­who will deign some day to tie again with His paternal hand the knots broken by cruel death!—­ah! in presence of the lifeless remains of a beloved being, what heart so withered, what brain so blighted by doubt, as not to repel forever the odious thought that these sacred words:  God, Justice, Love, Immortality—­are but vain syllables devoid of meaning!

Farewell, Paul.  You know what there still remains for me to do.  If you can come, I expect you; if not, my friend, expect me.  Farewell!

CHAPTER IX.

A CHALLENGE AND DUEL.

THE MARQUIS DE MALOUET TO PAUL B——­, PARIS.

CHATEAU DE MALOUET. October 20.

Monsieur:—­It has become my imperative though painful duty to relate to you the facts which have brought about the crowning disaster of which you have already been advised, by more rapid means and with such precautions as we were able to take; a disaster that completely overwhelms our souls already so cruelly tried.  As you are aware, sir, a few weeks, a few days had been sufficient to enable Madame de Malouet and myself to know and appreciate your friend, to conceive for him an eternal affection soon, alas! to be changed into eternal regret.  You are also aware, I know, of all the sad circumstances that preceded and led to this sad catastrophe.