you shall see me again, I swear it.’  She then left me.  The next day, the 12th, of March, I was exact at the rendezvous, and Madame de Lamotte arrived a moment later.  She gave me a deed, authorising her husband to receive the arrears of thirty thousand livres remaining from the purchase-money of Buisson-Souef.  I endeavoured again to express my opinion of her conduct; she listened in silence, as if my words affected her deeply.  We were walking together, when she told me she had some business in a house we were passing, and asked me to wait for her.  I waited more than an hour, and then discovered that this house, like many others in Lyons, had an exit in another street; and I understood that Madame de Lamotte had escaped by this passage, and that I might wait in vain.  Concluding that trying to follow her would be useless, and seeing also that any remonstrance would be made in vain, I returned to Paris, deciding to say nothing as yet, and to conceal the truth as long as possible.  I still had hopes, and I did not count on being so soon called on to defend myself:  I thought that when I had to speak, it would be as a friend, and not as an accused person.  This, sir, is the explanation of my conduct, and I regret that this justification, so easy for myself, should be so cruelly painful for another.  You have seen the efforts which I made to defer it.”

Monsieur de Lamotte had heard this second part of Derues’ recital with a more silent indignation, not that he admitted its probability, but he was confounded by this monstrous imposture, and, as it were, terror-stricken by such profound hypocrisy.  His mind revolted at the idea of his wife being accused of adultery; but while he repelled this charge with decision, he saw the confirmation of his secret terrors and presentiments, and his heart sank within him at the prospect of exploring this abyss of iniquity.  He was pale, gasping for breath, as though he himself had been the criminal, while scorching tears furrowed his cheeks.  He tried to speak, but his voice failed; he wanted to fling back at Derues the names of traitor and assassin, and he was obliged to bear in silence the look of mingled grief and pity which the latter bestowed upon him.

The magistrate, calmer, and master of his emotions, but tolerably bewildered in this labyrinth of cleverly connected lies, thought it desirable to ask some further questions.

“How,” said he, “did you obtain this sum of a hundred thousand livres which you say you paid over to Madame de Lamotte?”

“I have been engaged in business for several years, and have acquired some fortune.”

“Nevertheless, you have postponed the obligation of making this payment several times, so that Monsieur de Lamotte had begun to feel uneasiness on the subject.  This was the chief reason of his wife’s coming to Paris.”

“One sometimes experiences momentary difficulties, which presently disappear.”