ering
devil was at my ear. I went back into the house, bathed in a sweat of
agony; I rolled about on my bed, sleepless. In my mind's eye I saw the
man gliding to his dancer with _my_ beautiful jewels. Full of fury I
sprang up, threw my cloak round me, went down the secret stair, out
through the wall into the Rue Nicaise. He came, I fell upon him, he
cried out; but, seizing him from behind, I plunged my dagger into his
heart. The jewels were mine. When this was done, I felt a peace, a
contentment within me which I had never known before. The spectre had
vanished--the voice of the demon was still. _Now_ I knew what was the
behest of my Evil Star, which I had to obey, or perish. You know all
now, Olivier. Don't think that, because I must do that which I cannot
avoid, I have clean renounced all sense of that mercy or kindly feeling
which are the portion of all humanity, and inherent in man's nature.
You know how hard I find it to let any of my work go out of my hands,
that there are many whom I would not have to die for whom nothing will
induce me to work; indeed, that in cases when I feel that, next day, my
spectre will have to be exorcised with blood, that day I settle the
business by a swashing blow, which lays the holder of my jewels on the
ground, so that I get them back into my own hands.' Having said all
this, Cardillac took me into his secret strong-room and showed me his
collection of jewels; the King does not possess such an one. To each
ornament was fastened a small label stating for whom it had been made,
and when taken back--by theft, robbery, or murder.

"'On your wedding day, Olivier,' he said, in a solemn tone, 'you will
swear me a solemn oath, with your hand on the crucifix, that as soon as
I am dead you will at once convert all those treasures into dust,
by a process which I will tell you of. I will not have any human
being, least of all Madelon and you, come into possession of those
blood-bought stones.'

"Shut up in this labyrinth of crime, torn in twain by love and
abhorrence, I was like one of the damned to whom a glorified angel
points, with gentle smile, the upward way, whilst Satan holds him down
with red-hot talons, and the angel's loving smile, reflecting all the
bliss of paradise, becomes, to him, the very keenest of his tortures. I
thought of flight, even of suicide, but Madelon! Blame me, blame me,
Mademoiselle, for having been too weak to overcome a passion which
fettered me to my destructio