Two o’clock. O God! Would the night never pass? Perhaps, after all, he was safe. “Firmin is such a coward! Who knows if he would dare carry out his threat? Why do I torment myself about it? When Firmin sees Savin, he will not dare lift his little finger. God be praised! Firmin is a poltroon--_that_ I know, and why should I fear?” Half-past two. “How the hours creep! Oh, what if Firmin should attack him from behind? Yes, that is what he would do--the coward! He would take him unawares. And _I_ am the cause! Oh, no, no! It cannot be!” Catherine hurriedly dressed herself, determined to seek her husband and end her apprehensive suspense. As she crossed the threshold the air made her shiver and she turned back, and while searching for her shawl she regained a share of her wonted composure. “After all,” she reflected aloud, “I am foolish. If Firmin, as is probable, becomes frightened and runs home, I shall only get deeper into trouble. At this hour all is settled, one way or the other, but Savin probably is quite safe and uninjured. Firmin is too much of a coward to carry out his threat. And why should I show such an interest, anyway? Why, indeed?” In a nearly tranquil mood she again seated herself at the window. But her tranquillity did not last long. Soon she was assailed by doubts and emotions that brought fresh tears to her eyes. “But what if he be dead at this instant? What if he were so far from here that I could not have heard the report?” A revulsive paroxysm of grief and remorse made her moan piteously. “Who knows but that he may be dying with no one near to help him?” How terrible is remorse! Catherine, during those moments of suspense, suffered untold anguish, and when at last she could endure it no longer, she snatched up her wrap and rushed out into the night. The clock tinkled four as she closed the door behind her. Possessed with the one idea of finding her husband, she hurried on, but just as she entered the wood she heard a loud reverberating report. “O God! I am too late!” cried the distracted woman, as she fell on her knees like a sobbing suppliant. Soon, however, she recovered herself in a measure, but instead of flying to Savin’s side, her one thought was to get home as rapidly as possible. “They must find me alone and asleep,” she murmured, “when they come to break the news.” In her confusion it did not occur to her that Savin might be only wounded and that immediate relief might save him. Nor did she dream that anybody could have seen her leave the house--only to return precipitately after the shot was fired, and lock the door, which all night had remained unlocked, behind her. Mounting the staircase she entered her bed-room and prepared for bed. But her every nerve was on the alert. The ticking of the little clock on the mantelpiece sounded like a cannon in her ears. What a dreadful suspense! Would they never come? In a waiting, listening attitude she seated herself by the window.