nd imprisoned me. I heard of your
courtship--aye, and your marriage, and rejoiced at it, for I knew it
could bring you nothing but grief; accursed monster, murderer of my
sister, attempted murderer of myself, seducer and betrayer of the girl
you call your wife."

"I say, she is my wife," stammered Le Prun, recovering his voice.

"No, miscreant! that she cannot be; well you know that _I_ am your
wife."

"It is a lie; I have that under your own hand; it is a lie, a lie."

"And do you fancy that, because intimidated by a murderer, I signed the
paper you speak of, the document has lost its force, and I ceased to be
your wife? No, no; adulterer and poisoner that you are, I retain the
right to blast you; you shall yet taste retribution; you shall perish by
a bloody end."

XVII.--CONCLUSION.

Blassemare read in Le Prun's countenance that there was an end of their
connection. He was, however, a man of resource, and whatever the loss
involved in the severance, he was not dismayed. He made up his mind to
quarrel with _eclat_, and sitting himself down upon the window-sill,
laughed with a sardonic glee at the rencontre he had just brought about.
In a little while, however, he began to wonder at its length, and after
a while he was startled by Le Prun's voice calling him by name, and at
the same time by a furious knocking at the door.

"Hey!--why don't you come here if you want me?" cried Blassemare.

"I can't--you _know_ I can't--you have locked the door."

"I've _not_--try it," replied Blassemare, coolly.

In a moment more Le Prun entered, trembling like a man in an ague, his
face livid and covered with a cold sweat.

"That, that accursed fiend, she has--the murderess--she attempted my
life--upon my soul she did."

There was some blood upon his hand, and more upon his lace cravat.

"What do you mean?" said Blassemare, growing very pale. "Why, why, you
have not, great God, you have not hurt the wretched woman?" and he
grasped him by the collar with a hand that trembled with mingled fury
and horror.

"It was _she_, I tell you--let me go--it was she--she that tried--by
----, she had a knife at my throat--I could not help it--I'm
ruined--help me, Blassemare--for God's sake, help me--what--what is to
be done?"

Blassemare gave him a look of contemptuous fury, turned from him, and
entered the chamber.

Le Prun stood like one stupefied, stammering excuses and oaths, and
trembling as if it were the day of judgment.