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Updated: June 7, 2025
After Madame de Bergenheim had given vent, by convulsive sobs and stifled sighs, to her grief for this love which she could not tear from her breast, she formed a desperate resolution. From the manner in which M. de Gerfaut had taken possession of the chateau the very first day, she recognized that he was master of the situation.
He is well known about the place; he has a wicked tongue and watches everything that one does or says in order to report it at cross-purposes. Mon Dieu! suppose he should make some story out of his seeing me enter these woods!" "Madame de Bergenheim," continued the artist, with affectation, "is certainly far above the gossip of a scoundrel of this kind."
Bergenheim came in uniform; it was etiquette to do so, as the minister of war was present; but at the same time, of course, there was a little vanity on his part, for his uniform showed off his tall, athletic figure to the best advantage.
Madame de Bergenheim withdrew her hand so quickly that she pulled out half a dozen or more hairs from her sister-in-law's head, and buried herself up to the chin in the bedclothes. "Oh! Monsieur de Gerfaut knows how to pay very pretty compliments!" she said. "And you doubtless are very well pleased to resemble Carlo Dolci's Madonna?"
"Since we are to have no seconds," continued Bergenheim, "let us arrange everything so that nothing can betray us; it is inconceivable how the most trifling circumstances often turn out crushing evidence. I think that I have foreseen everything. If you find that I have forgotten any detail, please remind me of it. The place I speak of is a narrow, well-shaded path.
Madame de Bergenheim sat motionless with a pensive, gloomy air, as if the young girl's remark had changed her into a statue. "Shall I enter?" said Octave to himself, leaving his niche and putting his hand upon the door-knob. "This little simpleton has done me an infinite wrong with her silly speeches.
A moment later, she had disappeared behind a mass of trees without the other men noticing her. "Take care that you do not slip," said the artist, "the ground is wet." This warning brought misfortune to Gerfaut, who in jumping caught his foot in the root of a tree and fell. "Are you hurt?" asked Bergenheim. Octave arose and tried to walk, but was obliged to lean upon his gun.
At the same moment, there was a slight noise, a step upon the carpet, the turning of the handle of the door, and it was silently opened as if by a ghost. Madame de Bergenheim tried to rise, but her strength failed her, she fell on her knees, and then dropped at her lover's feet.
"You will not die, Christian oh! tell me that you will not die and that you will forgive me." "Your lover has killed me," said Bergenheim, slowly; "I have a bullet in my chest I feel it I am the one who is to die in less than an hour I shall be a corpse don't you see how hard it is already for me to talk?" In reality his voice was becoming weaker and weaker.
"Ah! ah!" said Marillac, with interest, "the one who was turned away from the chateau?" "Yes, and they did well to do it, too; he is a downright bad man." "He is the one who told you something about Madame de Bergenheim. Tell me the story. Your mother interrupted us yesterday just as you began telling it to me. What was it that he said?" "Oh! falsehoods probably.
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