nst
his will." "And Madelon," exclaimed De Scuderi, "and Madelon, the
faithful, innocent dove!" "Oh!" said La Regnie, with a venomous smile,
"Oh! but who will answer to me for it that she also is not an
accomplice in the plot? What does she care about her father's death?
Her tears are only shed for this murderous rascal." "What do you say?"
screamed De Scuderi; "it cannot possibly be. Her father--this girl!"
"Oh!" went on La Regnie, "Oh, but pray recollect De Brinvillier. You
will be so good as to pardon me if I perhaps soon find myself compelled
to take your favourite from your protection, and have her cast into the
Conciergerie."

This terrible suspicion made Mademoiselle shudder. It seemed to her as
if no faithfulness, no virtue, could stand fast before this fearful
man; he seemed to espy murder and blood-guiltiness in the deepest and
most secret thoughts. She rose to go. "Be human!" was all that she
could stammer out in her distress, and she had difficulty in breathing.
Just on the point of going down the stairs, to the top of which the
President had accompanied her with ceremonious courtesy, she was
suddenly struck by a strange thought, at which she herself was
surprised. "And could I be allowed to see this unhappy Olivier
Brusson?" she asked, turning round quickly to the President. He,
however, looked at her somewhat suspiciously, but his face was soon
contracted into the forbidding smile so characteristic of him. "Of
course, honoured lady," said he, "relying upon your feelings and the
little voice within you more than upon what has taken place before our
very eyes, you will yourself prove Olivier's guilt or innocence, I
perceive. If you are not afraid to see the dark abodes of crime, and if
you think there will be nothing too revolting in looking upon pictures
of depravity in all its stages, then the doors of the Conciergerie
shall be opened to you in two hours from now. You shall have this
Olivier, whose fate excites your interest so much, presented to you."

To tell the truth, De Scuderi could by no means convince herself of the
young man's guilt. Although everything spoke against him, and no judge
in the world could have acted differently from what La Regnie did in
face of such conclusive circumstantial evidence, yet all these base
suspicions were completely outweighed by the picture of domestic
happiness which Madelon had painted for her in such warm lifelike
colours; and hence she would rather adopt the id