“Written and signed with the pure blood of my veins, March 5, 185-.

   “Charlotte de Luc.  D’ESTRELLES.”

All the blood of Camors surged to his brain—­a cloud came over his eyes—­he rested his hand on the marble table, then suddenly his face was covered with a mortal paleness.  These symptoms did not arise from remorse or fear; his passion overshadowed all.  He felt a boundless joy.  He saw the world at his feet.

It was by this act of frankness and of extraordinary audacity, seasoned by the bloody mysticism so familiar to the sixteenth century, which she adored, that the Marquise de Campvallon surrendered herself to her lover and sealed their fatal union.

CHAPTER XIV

AN ANONYMOUS LETTER

Nearly six weeks had passed after this last episode.  It was five o’clock in the afternoon and the Marquise awaited Camors, who was to come after the session of the Corps Legislatif.  There was a sudden knock at one of the doors of her room, which communicated with her husband’s apartment.  It was the General.  She remarked with surprise, and even with fear, that his countenance was agitated.

“What is the matter with you, my dear?” she said.  “Are you ill?”

“No,” replied the General, “not at all.”

He placed himself before her, and looked at her some moments before speaking, his eyes rolling wildly.

“Charlotte!” he said at last, with a painful smile, “I must own to you my folly.  I am almost mad since morning—­I have received such a singular letter.  Would you like to see it?”

“If you wish,” she replied.

He took a letter from his pocket, and gave it to her.  The writing was evidently carefully disguised, and it was not signed.

“An anonymous letter?” said the Marquise, whose eyebrows were slightly raised, with an expression of disdain; then she read the letter, which was as follows: 

   “A true friend, General, feels indignant at seeing your confidence
   and your loyalty abused.  You are deceived by those whom you love
   most.

“A man who is covered with your favors and a woman who owes everything to you are united by a secret intimacy which outrages you.  They are impatient for the hour when they can divide your spoils.

“He who regards it as a pious duty to warn you does not desire to calumniate any one.  He is sure that your honor is respected by her to whom you have confided it, and that she is still worthy of your confidence and esteem.  She wrongs you in allowing herself to count upon the future, which your best friend dates from your death.  He seeks your widow and your estate.

“The poor woman submits against her will to the fascinations of a man too celebrated for his successful affairs of the heart.  But this man, your friend—­almost your son—­how can he excuse his conduct?  Every honest person must be shocked by such behavior, and particularly he whom a chance conversation informed of the fact, and who obeys his conscience in giving you this information.”

The Marquise, after reading it, returned the letter coldly to the General.