the young man； and retired without letting his face show that he had
formed any opinion； good or bad； with regard to Paquita。
〃That is a man；〃 said De Marsay； pointing to the mulatto； with a
sombre gesture。 〃There is no devotion like the devotion which obeys in
friendship； and does not stop to weigh motives。 In that man you
possess a true friend。〃
〃I will give him you； if you like；〃 she answered； 〃he will serve you
with the same devotion that he has for me； if I so instruct him。〃
She waited for a word of recognition； and went on with an accent
replete with tenderness：
〃Adolphe； give me then one kind word！ 。 。 。 It is nearly day。〃
Henri did not answer。 The young man had one sorry quality； for one
considers as something great everything which resembles strength； and
often men invent extravagances。 Henri knew not how to pardon。 That
/returning upon itself/ which is one of the soul's graces； was a non…
existent sense for him。 The ferocity of the Northern man； with which
the English blood is deeply tainted； had been transmitted to him by
his father。 He was inexorable both in his good and evil impulses。
Paquita's exclamation had been all the more horrible to him； in that
it had dethroned him from the sweetest triumph which had ever
flattered his man's vanity。 Hope； love； and every emotion had been
exalted with him； all had lit up within his heart and his
intelligence； then these torches illuminating his life had been
extinguished by a cold wind。 Paquita； in her stupefaction of grief；
had only strength enough to give the signal for departure。
〃What is the use of that！〃 she said； throwing away the bandage。 〃If he
does not love me； if he hates me； it is all over。〃
She waited for one look； did not obtain it； and fell； half dead。 The
mulatto cast a glance at Henri； so horribly significant； that； for the
first time in his life； the young man； to whom no one denied the gift
of rare courage； trembled。 〃/If you do not love her well； if you give
her the least pain； I will kill you/。〃 such was the sense of that
brief gaze。 De Marsay was escorted； with a care almost obsequious；
along the dimly lit corridor； at the end of which he issued by a
secret door into the garden of the Hotel San…Real。 The mulatto made
him walk cautiously through an avenue of lime trees； which led to a
little gate opening upon a street which was at that hour deserted。 De
Marsay took a keen notice of everything。 The carriage awaited him。
This time the mulatto did not accompany him； and at the moment when
Henri put his head out of the window to look once more at the gardens
of the hotel； he encountered the white eyes of Cristemio； with whom he
exchanged a glance。 On either side there was a provocation； a
challenge； the declaration of a savage war； of a duel in which
ordinary laws were invalid； where treason and treachery were admitted
means。 Cristemio knew that Henri had sworn Paquita's death。 Henri knew
that Cristemio would like to kill him before he killed Paquita。 Both
understood each other to perfection。
〃The adventure is growing complicated in a most interesting way；〃 said
Henri。
〃Where is the gentleman going to？〃 asked the coachman。
De Marsay was driven to the house of Paul de Manerville。 For more than
a week Henri was away from home； and no one could discover either what
he did during this period； nor where he stayed。 This retreat saved him
from the fury of the mulatto and caused the ruin of the charming
creature who had placed all her hope in him whom she loved as never
human heart had loved on this earth before。 On the last day of the
week； about eleven o'clock at night； Henri drove up in a carriage to
the little gate in the garden of the Hotel San…Real。 Four men
accompanied him。 The driver was evidently one of his friends； for he
stood up on his box； like a man who was to listen； an attentive
sentinel； for the least sound。 One of the other three took his stand
outside the gate in the street； the second waited in the garden；
leaning against the wall； the last； who carried in his hand a bunch of
keys； accompanied De Marsay。
〃Henri；〃 said his companion to him； 〃we are betrayed。〃
〃By whom； my good Ferragus？〃
〃They are not all asleep；〃 replied the chief of the Devourers； 〃it is
absolutely certain that some one in the house has neither eaten nor
drunk。 。 。 。 Look！ see that light！〃
〃We have a plan of the house； from where does it come？〃
〃I need no plan to know；〃 replied Ferragus； 〃it comes from the room of
the Marquise。〃
〃Ah；〃 cried De Marsay； 〃no doubt she arrived from London to…day。 The
woman has robbed me even of my revenge！ But if she has anticipated me；
my good Gratien； we will give her up to the law。〃
〃Listen； listen！ 。 。 。 The thing is settled；〃 said Ferragus to Henri。
The two friends listened intently； and heard some feeble cries which
might have aroused pity in the breast of a tiger。
〃Your marquise did not think the sound would escape by the chimney；〃
said the chief of the Devourers； with the laugh of a critic； enchanted
to detect a fault in a work of merit。
〃We alone； we know how to provide for every contingency；〃 said Henri。
〃Wait for me。 I want to see what is going on upstairsI want to know
how their domestic quarrels are managed。 By God！ I believe she is
roasting her at a slow fire。〃
De Marsay lightly scaled the stairs； with which he was familiar； and
recognized the passage leading to the boudoir。 When he opened the door
he experienced the involuntary shudder which the sight of bloodshed
gives to the most determined of men。 The spectacle which was offered
to his view was； moreover； in more than one respect astonishing to
him。 The Marquise was a woman； she had calculated her vengeance with
that perfection of perfidy which distinguishes the weaker animals。 She
had dissimulated her anger in order to assure herself of the crime
before she punished it。
〃Too late； my beloved！〃 said Paquita； in her death agony； casting her
pale eyes upon De Marsay。
The girl of the golden eyes expired in a bath of blood。 The great
illumination of candles； a delicate perfume which was perceptible； a
certain disorder； in which the eye of a man accustomed to amorous
adventures could not but discern the madness which is common to all
the passions； revealed how cunningly the Marquise had interrogated the
guilty one。 The white room； where the blood showed so well； betrayed a
long struggle。 The prints of Paquita's hands were on the cushions。
Here she had clung to her life； here she had defended herself； here
she had been struck。 Long strips of the tapestry had been torn down by
her bleeding hands； which； without a doubt； had struggled long。
Paquita must have tried to reach the window； her bare feet had left
their imprints on the edge of the divan； along which she must have
run。 Her body； mutilated by the dagger…thrusts of her executioner；
told of the fury with which she had disputed a life which Henri had
made precious to her。 She lay stretched on the floor； and in her
death…throes had bitten the ankles of Madame de San…Real； who still
held in her hand her dagger； dripping blood。 The hair of the Marquise
had been torn out； she was covered with bites； many of which were
bleeding； and her torn dress revealed her in a state of semi…nudity；
with the scratches on her breasts。 She was sublime so。 Her head； eager
and maddened； exhaled the odor of blood。 Her panting mouth was open；
and her nostrils were not sufficient for her breath。 There are certain
animals who fall upon their enemy in their rage； do it to death； and
seem in the tranquillity of victory to have forgotten it。 There are
others who prowl around their victim； who guard it in fear lest it
should be taken away from them； and who； like the Achilles of Homer；
drag their enemy by the feet nine times round the walls of Troy。 The
Marquise was like that。 She did not see Henri。 In the first place； she
was too secure of her solitude to be afraid of witnesses； and；
secondly； she was too intoxicated with warm blood； too excited with
the fray； too exalted； to take notice of the whole of Paris； if Paris
had formed a circle round her。 A thunderbolt would not have disturbed
her。 She had not even heard Paquita's last sigh； and believed that the
dead girl could still hear her。
〃Die without confessing！〃 she said。 〃Go down to hell； monster of
ingratitude； belong to no one but the fiend。 For the blood you gave
him you owe me all your own！ Die； die； suffer a thousand deaths！ I
have been too kindI was only a moment killing you。 I should have
made you experience all the tortures that you have bequeathed to me。 I
I shall live！ I shall live in misery。 I have no one left to love but
God！〃
She gazed at her。
〃She is dead！〃 she said to herself； after a pause； in a violent
reaction。 〃Dead！ Oh； I shall die of grief！〃
The Marquise was throwing herself upon the divan； stricken with a
despair which deprived her of speech； when this movement brought her
in view of Henri de Marsay。
〃Who are you？〃 she asked； rushing at him with her dagger raised。
Henri caught her arm； and thus they could contemplate each other face
to face。 A horrible surprise froze the blood in their veins； and thei