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Updated: June 20, 2025
What the Baroness' reflections and tears were after Crevel's departure may now be clearly imagined. The poor woman had for two years past known that she was at the bottom of a pit, but she had fancied herself alone in it.
Thus she had two happy days, for she hoped to deal a mortal blow at the Baroness and her daughter. To go to Crevel's house, in the Rue des Saussayes, she crossed the Pont du Carrousel, went along the Quai Voltaire, the Quai d'Orsay, the Rue Bellechasse, Rue de l'Universite, the Pont de la Concorde, and the Avenue de Marigny.
The little apartment, comprising a dining-room, drawing-room, and bedroom, all lighted from above, and standing partly on Crevel's ground and partly on his neighbor's, was very difficult to find. With the exception of the second-hand furniture-dealer, the tenants knew nothing of the existence of this little paradise. The doorkeeper, paid to keep Crevel's secrets, was a capital cook.
"Well, and what then?" said the Baroness coolly, to Crevel's great amazement. Such mean seducers cannot understand a great soul.
Crevel, a tradesman and shopkeeper to the backbone, though a mayor of Paris, unluckily, was a little slower to move than his rival partner, and this enabled the Baron to read at a glance Crevel's involuntary self-betrayal. This was a fresh arrow to rankle in the very amorous old man's heart, and he resolved to have an explanation from Valerie.
The monk held out his hand without a word, and without a word Victorin Hulot gave him eighty thousand-franc notes, taken from a sum of money found in Crevel's desk. Young Madame Hulot inherited the estate of Presles and thirty thousand francs a year. Madame Crevel had bequeathed a sum of three hundred thousand francs to Baron Hulot.
We can both spend the night here." "Proof!" was all the Baron could say. Crevel took a flat candlestick and led Hulot into the adjoining room, where he saw, on a sofa, a superb dressing-gown belonging to Valerie, which he had seen her wear in the Rue Vanneau, to display it before wearing it in Crevel's little apartment.
Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters " Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled!
Well, the sensation to which the Councillor of State was a victim at five in the morning in Crevel's handsome and elegant bed, was immeasurably worse than that of feeling himself bound to the fatal block in the presence of ten thousand spectators looking at you with twenty thousand sparks of fire. Valerie was asleep in a graceful attitude.
Lisbeth thought it her duty to go into Crevel's room, where she found Victorin and his wife sitting about a yard away from the stricken man's bed. "Lisbeth," said he, "they will not tell me what state my wife is in; you have just seen her how is she?" "She is better; she says she is saved," replied Lisbeth, allowing herself this play on the word to soothe Crevel's mind.
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