"Verily--you believe me, then?" cried he, in transport. "I believe you?" said the Creole, leaning with force her charming hands on those of Jacques Ferrand. "Yes, I believe you; for I see again your look of just now--that look which fascinated me. Your eyes sparkle with savage ardor; Jacques, I love your eyes!" "Cecily!" "You should speak the truth." "I speak the truth! Oh! you shall see." "Your countenance is lowering. Your expression formidable. Hold, you are as fearful and beautiful as a mad tiger. But you speak the truth, do you not?" "I have committed crimes, I tell you." "So much the better, if by their avowal you prove your love." "And if I tell you all?" "I grant all; for if you have this blind confidence in me--do you see, Jacques--it will no longer be the ideal lover of the song I call. It is to you, my tiger, you, that I shall say come--come--come." "Oh, you will be mine. I shall be your tiger," cried he; "and then, if you will, you shall dishonor me--my head shall fall. My honor, my life, all is yours now," "Your honor?" "My honor! Listen; ten years since an infant was confided to my care, and two hundred thousand francs for its support; I have abandoned this child. I spread the report the child was dead, and I kept the money." "It was bold and skillful--who would have thought it of you?" "Listen again: I hated my cashier, François Germain. One night he took from me a little gold, which he returned the next day; but to ruin him, I accused him of having robbed me of a considerable sum. I was believed, he was thrown into prison. Now my honor is at your mercy." "Oh, you love me, Jacques, you love me. To inform me thus of your secrets--what empire I must have over you! I will not be ungrateful; let me kiss this forehead, where so many infernal thoughts were created." "Oh!" cried the notary, stammering, "if the scaffold stood there, ready, I would not draw back. Listen again: this child, Fleur-de-Marie, once abandoned, crosses my path--she inspires me with fears; I have had her killed!" "You? How? where?" "A few days since--near Asnières Bridge, by Ravageurs' Island. One named Martial drowned her in a boat. Are these details sufficient? do you believe me?" "Oh! demon from hell: you alarm, yet attract me. You inspire me. What is, then, your power?" "Listen again: before that a man had confided to me a hundred thousand crowns. I set a trap for him. I blew his brains out. I proved that he committed suicide, and I denied the deposit which his sister the Baroness de Fermont reclaimed. Now my life is at your mercy--open." "Jacques, I adore you!" said the Creole, with warmth. "Oh! come a thousand deaths, and I'd dare them!" cried the notary, in an intoxication impossible to describe. "Yes, you are right; were I young and charming, I should not experience this triumphant joy. The key! throw me the key! draw the bolt!"