“The proof that he acted under the incomprehensible influence of a kind of hallucination is this, that he felt neither remorse nor fear.  As he was resolved not to return to his house, nor to encumber himself with luggage, he dined at a restaurant, spent a few minutes at a theatre, and then posted his letter to the board of directors, so that it might reach them early in the morning.

“At ten o’clock he knocked at the gate of the house in Circus Street.  A servant came and opened, saying in a mysterious manner,—­

“‘Please go up.  The young lady is waiting.’

“A terrible presentiment seized him at that moment, and chilled him to the marrow in his bones.  In the parlor Sarah was sitting on a sofa, and Maxime de Brevan by her side.  They were laughing so loud, that he heard them in the anteroom.  When Malgat entered, she raised her head with a dissatisfied air, and said rudely,—­

“‘Ah!  It is you.  What do you want now?’

“Surely, such a reception ought to have disabused the unfortunate man.  But no!  When he began to stammer some explanations, she interrupted him, saying,—­

“’Let us speak frankly.  You come to run away with me, don’t you?  Well, that is simply nonsense.  Look at yourself, my good friend, and tell me if a girl such as I am can be in love with a man like you.  As to that small loan, it does not pay me, I assure you, by half, for the sublime little comedy which I have had to play.  Believe me, at all events, when I tell you that I have taken all my precautions so as not to be troubled by anything you may say or do.  And now, sir, I wish you good-evening; or must I go?’

“Ah! she might have spoken a long time yet, and Malgat would not have thought of interrupting her.  The fearful truth broke all of a sudden upon him; and he felt as if the whole world were going to pieces.  He understood the enormity of the crime; he discerned the fatal consequences, and knew he was ruined.  A thousand voices arose from his conscience, telling him, ’You are a thief!  You are a forger!  You are dishonored!’

“But, when he saw Sarah Brandon get up to leave the room, he was seized with an attack of furious rage, and threw himself upon her, crying,—­

“‘Yes, I am lost; but you shall die, Sarah Brandon!’

“Poor fool! who did not know that these wretches had, of course, foreseen his wrath, and prepared for the emergency.  Supple, like one of those lost children of the gutter among whom she had lived once upon a time, Sarah Brandon escaped from Malgat’s grasp, and by a clever trick threw him upon an arm-chair.  Before he could rise again, he was held fast by Maxime de Brevan, and by M. Elgin, who had heard the noise, and rushed in from the adjoining room.

“The poor man did not attempt to resist.  Why should he?  Within him, moreover, a faint hope began to rise.  It seemed to him impossible that such a monstrous wrong could be carried out, and that he would have only to proclaim the wickedness of these wretches to have them in his power.