Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the revolver from his grasp.
"You shall not kill yourself," she cried, "I will not let you. You are
mine; I love you! Let them come. What can they do to you? If they
put you in prison, you can escape. I will help you, we will bribe the
jailors. Ah, we will live so happily together, no matter where, far away
in America where no one knows us!"
The outer door had yielded; the police were now picking the lock of the
door of the ante-chamber.
"Let me finish!" murmured Noel; "they must not take me alive!"
And, with a supreme effort, triumphing over his dreadful agony, he
released himself, and roughly pushed Juliette away. She fell down near
the sofa.
Then, he once more aimed his revolver at the place where he felt his
heart beating, pulled the trigger and rolled to the floor.
It was full time, for the police at that moment entered the room.
Their first thought was, that before shooting himself, Noel had shot his
mistress. They knew of cases where people had romantically desired
to quit this world in company; and, moreover, had they not heard two
reports? But Juliette was already on her feet again.
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