"Charlotte," he said, sternly, "this is only a trial, I hope; but, trial or no, never repeat it--never! Remember!" She also quickly drew herself up. "Ah! how you love her!" she cried. "Yes, you love her, it is she you love-I know it, I feel it, and I-I am only the wretched object of your pity, or of your caprice. Very well, go back to her--go and protect her, for I swear to you she is in peril!" He smiled with his haughty irony. "Let us see your plot," he said. "So you intend to kill her?" "If I can!" she said; and her superb arm was stretched out as if to seize a weapon. "What! with your own hand?" "The hand shall be found." "You are so beautiful at this moment!" said Camors; "I am dying with the desire to fall at your feet. Acknowledge only that you wished to try me, or that you were mad for a moment." She gave a savage smile. "Oh! you fear, my friend," she said, coldly; then raising again her voice, which assumed a malignant tone, "You are right, I am not mad, I did not wish to try you; I am jealous, I am betrayed, and I shall revenge myself--no matter what it costs me--for I care for nothing more in this world!--Go, and guard her!" "Be it so; I go," said Camors. He immediately left the salon and the chateau; he reached the railway station on foot, and that evening arrived at Reuilly. Something terrible there awaited him. During his absence, Madame de Camors, accompanied by her mother, had gone to Paris to make some purchases. She remained there three days. She had returned only that morning. He himself arrived late in the evening. He thought he observed some constraint in their reception of him, but he did not dwell upon it in the state of mind in which he was.