'Alas! yes, the poor dear man is dead,' said Mademoiselle Herminie Billecoq, with a deep, long-drawn sigh. 'It seems that they refused to receive him at the gaol. Then, when we saw him arriving at the hotel in such a pitiable condition, madame went down and insisted upon being admitted, saying that she was his sister. A sister may surely claim to receive her brother's last breath. That is what I said to that hussy of a Madame Martineau, who threatened to turn us out of the room. But we forced her to let us remain by the bedside. _Mon Dieu_! it was soon all over. The death agony only lasted an hour. The poor man was lying on the bed dressed all in black. Anyone would have thought that he was a notary just going to a marriage. And he died out just like a candle-flame, with a little twist of his face. He couldn't have had much pain.' 'And then--would you believe it?--Madame Martineau actually tried to pick a quarrel with me,' cried Madame Correur. 'I don't know what she was driving at, but she spoke about my brother's property, and accused me of having given him the last stroke. I said to her, "If I had been there, madame, I would never have allowed him to be taken away, I would have let the gendarmes hew me in pieces sooner!" And they _should_ have hewn me in pieces sooner! I told you so, didn't I, Herminie?' 'Yes, yes, indeed,' said the tall girl. 'Well, I know my tears won't bring him to life again,' continued Madame Correur; 'but I'm crying because I can't help it. Oh, my poor Martineau!' Rougon felt very ill at ease. He drew back his hands which Madame Correur had grasped. Still he could not think of anything to say, shocked as he was by the story of this death which seemed so abominable to him. 'Look!' exclaimed Herminie, who was standing in front of the window, 'you can see the room from here in this bright light. It is the third window to the left, on the first floor. There is a light behind the curtains.' However, Rougon dismissed them, while Madame Correur in return apologised for having troubled him, calling him her friend, and saying that her first impulse had been to come and tell him the fatal news. 'It is a very annoying business,' Rougon whispered to Du Poizat, when he returned to the ball-room, with his face still pale. 'It is all that idiot Gilquin's doing!' replied the prefect, shrugging his shoulders.