"I can foresee the fate which you have in reserve for her," replied the lover, indignantly; "you will not murder her, for that would be too imprudent; what would become of your vaunted honor then? But you will slowly kill her; you will make her die a new death every day, in order to satisfy a blind vengeance. You are a man to meditate over each new torture as calmly as you have regulated every detail of our duel." Bergenheim, instead of replying, lighted a candle as if to put an end to this discussion. "Until to-morrow, Monsieur," said he, with a cold air. "One moment!" exclaimed Gerfaut, as he arose; "you refuse to give me one word which will assure me of the fate of the woman whose life I have ruined?" "I have nothing to say." "Very well, then; I will protect her, and I will do it in spite of you and against you." "Not another word," interrupted the Baron, sternly. Octave leaned over the table between them and looked at him for a moment, then said in a terrible voice: "You killed Lambernier!" Christian bounded backward as if he had been struck. "I was a witness of that murder," continued Gerfaut, slowly, as he emphasized each word; "I will write my deposition and give it to a man of whom I am as sure as of myself. If I die to-morrow, I will leave him a mission which no effort on your part will prevent him from fulfilling. He shall watch over your slightest actions with inexorable vigilance; he will be Madame de Bergenheim's protector, if you forget that your first duty is to protect her. The day upon which you abuse your position with her, the day when she shall call out despairingly, 'Help me!' that day shall my deposition be placed in the hands of the public prosecutor at Nancy. He will believe its contents; of that you may be certain. Besides, the river is an indiscreet tomb; before long it will give up the body you have confided to it. You will be tried and condemned. You know the punishment for murder! It is hard labor for life." Bergenheim darted toward the mantel at these words and seized a hunting- knife which hung there. Octave, as he saw him ready to strike, crossed his arms upon his breast, and said, coldly: "Remember that my body might embarrass you; one corpse is enough." The Baron threw the weapon on the floor with such force that he broke it in two. "But it was you," he said, in a trembling voice, "you were Lambernier's assassin. I--He knew this infamous secret, and his death was involuntary on my part." "The intention is of little account. The deed is the question. There is not a jury that would not condemn you, and that is what I wish, for such a sentence would bring a legal separation between you and your wife and give her her liberty." "You are not speaking seriously," said Christian, turning pale; "you, a gentleman, would not denounce me! And, besides, would not my being sentenced injure the woman in whom you take so much interest?"