who now were both upon the floor before
him like suppliants, he said to Matrena:

"It is you who assassinate me."

"Me! By the living God!" babbled Matrena Petrovna desperately. "If I had
been able to keep this from you, Jesus would have been good! But I say
no more to crucify you. Feodor Feodorovitch, question your daughter,
and if what I have said is not true, kill me, kill me as a lying, evil
beast. I will say thank you, thank you, and I will die happier than if
what I have said was true. Ah, I long to be dead! Kill me!"

Feodor Feodorovitch pushed her back with his stick as one would push
a worm in his path. Without saying anything further, she rose from
her knees and looked with her haggard eyes, with her crazed face, at
Rouletabille, who grasped her arm. If she had had her hands still free
she would not have hesitated a second in wreaking justice upon herself
under this bitter fate of alienating Feodor. And it seemed frightful to
Rouletabille that he should be present at one of those horrible family
dramas the issue of which in the wild times of Peter the Great would
have sent the general to the hangman either as a father or as a husband.

The general did not deign even to consider for any length of time
Matrena's delirium. He said to his daughter, who shook with sobs on the
floor, "Rise, Natacha Feodorovna." And Feodor's daughter understood that
her father never would believe in her guilt. She drew herself up towards
him and kissed his hands like a happy slave.

At this moment repeated blows shook the veranda door. Matrena, the
watch-dog, anxious to die after Feodor's reproach, but still at
her post, ran toward what she believed to be a new danger. But she
recognized Koupriane's voice, which called on her to open. She let him
in herself.

"What is it?" she implored.

"Well, he is dead."

A cry answered him. Natacha had heard.

"But who--who--who?" questioned Matrena breathlessly.

Koupriane went over to Feodor and grasped his hands.

"General," he said, "there was a man who had sworn your ruin and who was
made an instrument by your enemies. We have just killed that man."

"Do I know him?" demanded Feodor.

"He is one of your friends, you have treated him like a son."

"His name?"

"Ask your daughter, General."

Feodor turned toward Natacha, who burned Koupriane with her gaze, trying
to learn what this news was he brought--the truth or a ruse.

"You know the man who wished to kill me, Natacha?