"Save him, by all you hold dearest in the
world! You are that man's superior, Charles--order him from the
room!"
Danville roughly shook her hand off his arm.
"Lomaque is doing his duty. Yes," he added, with a glance of
malicious triumph at Trudaine, "yes, doing his duty. Look at me
as you please--your looks won't move me. I denounced you! I admit
it--I glory in it! I have rid myself of an enemy, and the State
of a bad citizen. Remember your secret visits to the house in the
Rue de Clery!"
His wife uttered a cry of horror. She seized his arm again with
both hands--frail, trembling hands--that seemed suddenly nerved
with all the strength of a man's.
"Come here--come here! I must and will speak to you!"
She dragged him by main force a few paces back, toward an
unoccupied corner of the room. With deathly cheeks and wild eyes
she raised herself on tiptoe, and put her lips to her husband's
ear. At that instant Trudaine called to her:
"Rose, if you speak I am lost!"
She stopped at the sound of his voice, dropped her hold on her
husband's arm, and faced her brother, shuddering.
"Rose," he continued, "you have promised, and your promise is
sacred. If you prize your honor, if you love me, come here--come
here, and be silent."
He held out his hand. She ran to him; and, laying her head on his
bosom, burst into a passion of tears.
Danville turned uneasily toward the police agents.
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