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"We will speak of it again, Michael Nikolaievitch." "At your pleasure, Boris Alexandrovitch." They had exchanged these latter words tranquilly continuing their walk and negligently smoking their yellow tobacco. Rouletabille was between them.
Isn't there something that always keeps you from admitting that you are mistaken? You have had an innocent man killed. Now, you know well enough, you know well that I would not have admitted Michael Nikolaievitch here if I had believed he was capable of wishing to poison my father." "Mademoiselle," replied Rouletabille, not lowering his eyes under Natacha's thunderous regard, "I am sure of that."
That frightful tragedy, Sire, in which we have lived our most painful hours, appeared to me, confident of Natacha's innocence, as absolutely simple as for the others it seemed complicated. Natacha believed she had in Michael Nikolaievitch a man who worked for her, but he worked only for himself.
He had faced such a hypothesis with assurance then but now, now that the poison continued, continued within the house, where he believed himself so fully aware of all people and things continued now that Michael Nikolaievitch was dead ah, where did it come from, this poison? and what was it? Pere Alexis would hurry his analysis if he had any regard for poor Rouletabille.
"Pardon, pardon," he murmured, in an excess of joy which stifled him almost as much as the wretched rope would shortly do that they were getting ready behind him. "Pardon. One second yet, one little second. Then, messieurs, then, we are agreed in that, are we? This Michael, Michael Nikolaievitch was the the last of traitors." "The first," said the heavy voice.
Michael Nikolaievitch, who was a traitor, was too much in the 'combination, and if he had been rejected he would have ruined everything. I caused him to disappear!
They believed he had decided finally to make an end of the comedy and die with dignity; but he had mounted there only to give them a discourse. "Messieurs, understand me now. If it is true that you are not suppressing me in order to avenge Michael Nikolaievitch, then why do you hang me? Why do you inflict this odious punishment on me? Because you accuse me of causing Natacha Feodorovna's arrest?
In this moment, beloved, when in the clear shadows of this rose-stained evening I am here alone with you, Respond, respond with a heart less timid to the holy, accustomed cry of 'Good-evening." Ah, how Boris Nikolaievitch and Michael Korsakoff watched her as she sang!
Excepting that I am sure sure, you understand that Michael Nikolaievitch did not come here last night." "He did come," insisted Rouletabille in a slightly troubled voice. "He came here with poison. He came here to poison your father, Natacha," moaned Matrena Petrovna, who twined her hands in gestures of sincere and naive tragedy.
I was pressed for my train and Michael Nikolaievitch and Boris Alexandrovitch were in the garden, so I asked them to execute my commission, and I laid the box down near them on the little garden table, telling them not to forget to tell you it was necessary to wash the grapes as Doucet expressly recommended." "But it is unbelievable! It is terrible!" quavered Matrena. "Where can the grapes be?
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