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Updated: June 26, 2025
I know you think otherwise, and, it is said, your opinion rests on what he himself has told you. With me the case is different. Nobody can be more certain than I that Brusson is innocent of Cardillac's death." "Speak! Oh, speak!" cried Mademoiselle Scuderi. "I was the man who stabbed the old goldsmith, in the Rue St. Honoré, close to your door," said the Colonel.
"Miossen's deposition proves it," she cried; "the searching of Cardillac's house; my own firm conviction, and, ah! Madelon's pure heart, which recognises equal purity in poor Brusson." The King, about to say something, was interrupted by a noise in the direction of the door. Louvois, who was at work in the next room, put his head in with an anxious expression. The King rose, and followed him out.
No torture will draw from me the secret of Cardillac's iniquities. Not through any action of mine shall that Eternal Power, which hid from Madelon the gruesome bloodguilt of her father all this time, break in upon her now, to her destruction, nor shall earthly vengeance drag the corpse of Cardillac out of the soil which covers it, and brand the mouldering bones with infamy.
"Well, Baptiste," she said, "bring him in at once, this gentleman who is so frightful to you, and who to me, at all events, can cause no anxiety." Olivier Brusson, since he saw you, has been almost out of his mind. He still swears by all that is sacred, that he is completely innocent of René Cardillac's death, though he is ready to suffer the punishment he has deserved.
"The boy's all right," he said, "he's just trying to forget young Stephen and he forgets things better in Cardillac's company than he does in mine I'm not lively enough for that kind of thing. He'll come back " But, at the same time, Bobby was anxious. Things were wrong up there at The Roundabout, very wrong. He knew Clare and Cards and Peter and Mrs.
"Dear Peter's growing up." "Yes," said Bobby. "My sweet young brother wants the most beautiful kicking and he'll get it very soon." Then he looked at the clock. "I must go up and dress." "I'm rather glad," said Alice, "I'm not coming. Clare gets considerably on my nerves just at present." "Yes," said Bobby, "but thank God Mr. Cardillac's in Paris for the time being." Then he added, reflectively
Half-way down the hall there was Bunning, and Olva could see, as he passed up the room, that the man was trembling and was pressing his hands down upon the table to hold his body still. When Olva had sat down and the cheering had passed again into the cheerful hum that was customary, the first voice that greeted him was Cardillac's. "Congratulations, old man. I'm delighted."
Cardillac's house in the Rue Nicaise abuts on to a high wall with niches, containing old, partly-broken statues. One night I was standing close to one of those figures, looking up at the windows of the house which open on the courtyard which the wall encloses. Suddenly I saw light in Cardillac's workshop.
Tell Me that you will follow Me. I spoke to you in the wood. You have broken My law. . . ." "Lot of piffle," he heard Cardillac's voice from a great distance. "These freshers are always gassing." The electric light, seen through a cloud of tobacco smoke, came slowly back to him, dull globes of colour. "It's so hot I'm cutting," he whispered to Cardillac, and slipped out of the room.
Then he said, with an evil smile gleaming on his red face, "The truth is, Madame la Marquise, that one must know René Cardillac's handiwork very little to suppose, even for a moment, that any other goldsmith in the world made those. Of course, I made them." "Then," continued the Marquise, "say whom you made them for." "For myself alone," he answered.
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