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Updated: June 5, 2025
I trust that we shall be able to live still at Valfeuillu, for the place pleases me; but we must also have a house at Paris or we will buy yours back again. What happiness, Hector!" The mere prospect of this anticipated felicity so shocked Hector, that his better self for the moment got the mastery; he essayed to move Bertha.
M. Lecoq, like everybody else, would, doubtless, have forgotten the Valfeuillu affair, had it not been that a notary called on him personally the other morning with a very gracious letter from Laurence, and an enormous sheet of stamped paper.
"I think, Monsieur," said he, very humbly, "that the murderers at Valfeuillu did not use either a hammer or a chisel, or a file, and that they brought no instrument at all from outside since they used a hammer." "And didn't they have a dirk besides?" asked the judge in a bantering tone, confident that he was on the right path.
He got up every day, and commenced to go about the house; he even received numerous visits from the neighbors; without apparent fatigue. But alas, the master of Valfeuillu was only the shadow of himself. His friends would never have recognized in that emaciated form and white face, and burning, haggard eye, the robust young man with red lips and beaming visage whom they remembered.
"What person?" "How do I know? He's a spy sent down from Paris about this Valfeuillu affair; not much good, probably ill-bred a brute and a wretch." "But he's not alone with monsieur?" "No; Doctor Gendron is with them." Mme.
"But, dear," responded Bertha, "aren't you afraid that the count will be bored a little here?" "Why?" "Valfeuillu is very quiet, and we are but dull country folks." Bertha talked for the sake of talking, to break a silence which embarrassed her, to make Tremorel speak, and hear his voice. As she talked she observed him, and studied the impression she made on him.
Sauvresy, after saving him, had welcomed him, opened to him his heart, purse, house; at this very moment he was making untiring efforts to restore his fortunes. Men like Tremorel can only receive such services as outrages. Had not his sojourn at Valfeuillu been a continual suffering? Was not his self-conceit tortured from morning till night? He might count the days by their humiliations. What!
The count and countess are alone at Valfeuillu. "They have gone to their bedroom. "The countess has seated herself at the table where tea has been served. The count, as he talks with her, paces up and down the chamber. "Madame de Tremorel has no ill presentiment; her husband, the past few days, has been more amiable, more attentive than ever.
They explain to us in the first place, how it was that on the very night of the murder, there was a large fortune in ready money at Valfeuillu; and this seems to me decisive. Why, when a man receives sums like this, which he proposes to keep by him, he conceals the fact as carefully as possible. Monsieur de Tremorel had not this common prudence.
She hesitated a moment, and said: "Yes, you are honorable; I will believe you." "Then, I swear to you that Tremorel hopes to marry a young girl who is immensely rich, whose dowry will secure his future." "He tells you so; he wants you to believe it." "Why should he? Since he came to Valfeuillu, he could have had no other affair than this with you.
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