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"In the name of the law, let nobody touch the body. Call back the dogs." As he said these words he hastened to the spot which the servant pointed out to him. Everybody dismounted and followed him. Octave and Bergenheim had exchanged strange glances when they heard the servant's words.
He thus lived upon his faith in the marriage contract, with unbounded confidence and old-fashioned loyalty. According to general opinion, Madame de Bergenheim was a very fortunate woman, to whom virtue must be so easy that it could hardly be called a merit. Happiness, according to society, consists in a box at the Opera, a fine carriage, and a husband who pays the bills without frowning.
At this tragic and unexpected denouement, Bergenheim, who was getting ready to make his appearance from behind the trees and to interpose his authority, started in full pursuit of the would-be murderer. From the direction he took, he judged that he would try to reach the river by passing over the rock.
Was it not a genuine triumph for Clemence to reduce a man of his recognized talent, who was usually anything but timid, to this state of embarrassment? What witty response, what passionate speech could equal the flattery of this poet with bent head and this expression of deep sadness upon his face? Madame de Bergenheim continued her raillery, but in a softer tone.
Necessity obliges me to admit a love that is an outrage to you; I am ready to repair this outrage by any satisfaction you may demand; but in putting myself at your discretion, I earnestly insist upon exculpating Madame de Bergenheim from all that can in any way affect her virtue or her reputation." "As to her reputation," said Christian, "I will watch over that; as to her virtue "
He is capable of murdering you in some corner of his park, and of burying you at the foot of some tree and then of forcing Madame de Bergenheim to eat your heart fricasseed in champagne, as they say Raoul de Coucy did." "You will admit, at least, that it would be a very charming repast, and that there would be nothing bourgeois about it."
Not a sound was to be heard; even the barking of the dogs in the distance had ceased. The deepest silence surrounded them; even Gerfaut, in the place where he was concealed, could no longer see them, now that Bergenheim had left the edge of the cliff; from time to time their voices reached him, but he could not distinguish the meaning of their words.
When she heard pronounced this name, so deeply agitating her, Madame de Bergenheim was silent for a moment; at last she said: "What has Monsieur de Gerfaut done to you? Is it not downright ungrateful to be afraid of him so soon after the service he has rendered you?" "No, I am not ungrateful," replied the young girl quickly.
"Are you suffering very much?" "A frightful neuralgia I only wish I could sleep." "I was wrong not to have thought of this. You will forgive me, will you not?" Bergenheim leaned over the chair, passed his arm around the young woman's shoulders, and pressed his lips to her forehead.
The repeated bathing of his temples with cold water and the holding of salts to his nose were not able to bring him to consciousness. Instead of going to his aid with the others, Bergenheim profited by the general confusion to lean over the table. He plunged his finger into the artist's glass, in which a part of the water remained, and then touched his tongue.
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