"Judge, then, the tortures of all sorts that you will have to endure. You must have been deeply smitten with Antonine to wish to marry her; you must have been deeply smitten with me to put your fortune at my feet. Ah, well, not only will you suffer an agonising martyrdom in seeing the two women you have madly desired possessed by others,--for I am a widow and will remarry,--but you will curse your riches, for every moment of the day will tell you that they have been impotent, and that they will always be impotent to satisfy your ardent desires." "Leave me!" stammered Pascal, recoiling before Madeleine, who kept him always under her eye. "Leave me! Truly this woman is a demon!" "Stop, my poor M. Pascal," continued the marquise, "you see I pity you in spite of myself, when I think of your envious rage, your ferocious jealousy, exasperated to frenzy by the constant happiness of Antonine, for you will see us every day, and often in the night. Yes, the season is beautiful, the bright moon charming, and many times in the evening, very late, hidden in the shadow with your eyes fixed on our dwelling, you will see sometimes Antonine and sometimes me with our elbows on the balcony railing, enjoying the cool of the evening, and smiling often, I confess, at M. Pascal, then standing behind some window-blind or peeping from some casement, devouring us with his eyes; often Antonine and Frantz will talk of love by the light of the moon, often I and my future husband will be as delightfully occupied under your eyes." "Curses!" cried Pascal, losing all control of himself, "she tortures me on burning coals." "And that is not all," continued the marquise, in a low, almost panting, voice. "At a late hour of the night you will see our windows closed, our curtains discreetly drawn on the feeble light of our alabaster lamps, so sweet and propitious to the voluptuousness of the night." Then the marquise, bursting into peals of laughter, added: "And, my poor M. Pascal, I would not be astonished then if, in your rage and despair, you should become mad and blow your brains out." "Not without having my revenge, at least," muttered Pascal, wrought to frenzy, and rushing to his desk where he had a loaded pistol. But Madeleine, who knew she had everything to fear from this man, had, as she slowly approached him, kept him under her eye, and, step by step, had reached the chimney; at the threatening gesture of Pascal she pulled the bell-cord violently. At the moment Pascal, livid and frightful, turned to face Madeleine, the servant entered hastily, surprised at the loud ringing of the bell. At the sound of the opening door and the sight of his valet, Pascal came to himself, quickly thrust the hand which held the pistol behind him, and let it fall on the carpet.