indows grew light with the dawn, he threw himself prostrated
and shuddering on the divan, and leaning on a cushion he detected the
odor of Phillis; burying his head in it he remained motionless and
slept.

A ring of the bell woke him, horrified, frightened; he did not know
where he was. It was broad daylight, carriages rumbled through the
street. A second ring sounded stronger, more violent. Shivering, he
went to open the door, and recognized the maid who the previous evening
brought a note from Madame Dammauville. He did not need to question her:
fate was on his side. His eyes became dim; without seeing her he heard
the maid explain why she had come.

She had been to Monsieur Balzajette; he was in the country. Her mistress
was nearly cold in her bed; she neither spoke nor breathed, yet her face
was pink.

"I will go with you."

He did not need to learn more. That rosy color, which has been observed
in those asphyxiated by oxide of carbon, decided it. However, he
questioned the maid.

Nothing had occurred; she had talked with the cook in the kitchen, who,
near midnight, went to her room in the fifth story, and then she went to
bed in a small room contiguous to that of her mistress. During the night
she heard nothing; in the morning she found her mistress in the state
she mentioned, and immediately went for Monsieur Balzajette.

Continuing his questions, Saniel asked her what Madame Dammauville did
after the consultation with Monsieur Balzajette.

"She dined as usual, but less than usual, eating almost nothing; then
she received a visit from one of her friends, who remained only a few
minutes, before starting on a voyage."

This was what he dreaded: Madame Dammauville might have told this
friend. If this were so, his crime would be of no use to him; where
would it carry him?

After a few moments, and in a tone that he tried to render indifferent,
he asked the name of this friend.

"A friend of her youth, Madame Thezard, living at No. 9, in the Rue des
Capucines, the wife of a consul."

Until he reached the house in the Rue Sainte-Anne he repeated this name
and address to himself, which he could not write down, and which he
must not forget, for it was from there now that the danger would come if
Madame Dammauville had spoken.

For a long time he had been habituated to the sight of death, but when
he found himself in the presence of this woman stretched on her bed as
if she slept, a shiver seized him.

"G