“I should say that you are the very woman of whom an ambitious man of thirty might dream in his most glorious visions.”

She believed him.  Yes, she was capable of believing that what he said was true; and, throwing aside all restraint, she went on,—­

“Well, then, I will tell you.  I am rich,—­immensely rich.  That entire fortune which once belonged to Count Ville-Handry, and which he thinks has been lost in unlucky speculations,—­the whole of it is in my hands.  Ah!  I have suffered horribly, to have to play for two long years the loving wife to this decrepit old man.  But I thought of you, my much beloved, my Daniel; and that thought sustained me.  I knew you would come back; and I wanted to have royal treasures to give you.  And I have them.  These much coveted millions are mine, and you are here; and now I can say to you, ’Take them, they are yours; I give them to you as I give myself to you.’”

She had drawn herself up to her full height as she said this; and she looked splendid and fearful at the same time, in her matchless beauty, diffusing energy and immodesty around her, and shaking her head defiantly, till the waves of golden hair flowed over her shoulders.

The untamed vagabond of the gutter reappeared all of a sudden, breathless and trembling, hoarse, lusting.

Daniel felt as if his reason was giving way.  Still he had the strength to say,—­

“But unfortunately you are not a widow.”

She drew close up to him, and said in a strident voice,—­

“Not a widow?  Do you know what Count Ville-Handry is doing at this moment?  He is beseeching his stockholders to relieve him from the effects of his mismanagement.  If they refuse him, he will be brought up in court, and tried as a defaulter.  Well, I tell you! they will refuse him; for among the largest stockholders there are three who belong to me:  I have bribed them to refuse.  What do you think the count will do when he finds himself dishonored and disgraced?  I will tell you again; for I have seen him write his will, and load his revolver.”

But the door of the outer room was opened.  She turned as pale as death itself, and, seizing Daniel’s arm violently, she whispered,—­

“Listen!”

Heavy steps were heard in the adjoining room, then—­nothing more!

“It is he!” she whispered again.  “Our fate is hanging in the scales”—­

A shot was heard, which made the window-panes rattle, and cut her short.  She was seized with spasms from head to foot, but, making a great effort, she cried out,—­

“Free at last, Daniel; we are free!”

And, rushing to the door, she opened it.

She opened it, but instantly shut it again violently, and uttered a terrible cry.

On the threshold stood Count Ville-Handry, his features terribly distorted, a smoking revolver in his hand.

“No,” he said, “Sarah, no, you are not free!”