then left me. The next day, the 12th, of March, I was exact at the
rendezvous, and Madame de Lamotte arrived a moment later. She gave me a
deed, authorising her husband to receive the arrears of thirty thousand
livres remaining from the purchase-money of Buisson-Souef. I endeavoured
again to express my opinion of her conduct; she listened in silence, as
if my words affected her deeply. We were walking together, when she told
me she had some business in a house we were passing, and asked me to
wait for her. I waited more than an hour, and then discovered that this
house, like many others in Lyons, had an exit in another street; and I
understood that Madame de Lamotte had escaped by this passage, and that
I might wait in vain. Concluding that trying to follow her would be
useless, and seeing also that any remonstrance would be made in vain,
I returned to Paris, deciding to say nothing as yet, and to conceal the
truth as long as possible. I still had hopes, and I did not count on
being so soon called on to defend myself: I thought that when I had to
speak, it would be as a friend, and not as an accused person. This, sir,
is the explanation of my conduct, and I regret that this justification,
so easy for myself, should be so cruelly painful for another. You have
seen the efforts which I made to defer it."

Monsieur de Lamotte had heard this second part of Derues' recital with
a more silent indignation, not that he admitted its probability, but
he was confounded by this monstrous imposture, and, as it were,
terror-stricken by such profound hypocrisy. His mind revolted at the
idea of his wife being accused of adultery; but while he repelled this
charge with decision, he saw the confirmation of his secret terrors
and presentiments, and his heart sank within him at the prospect of
exploring this abyss of iniquity. He was pale, gasping for breath, as
though he himself had been the criminal, while scorching tears furrowed
his cheeks. He tried to speak, but his voice failed; he wanted to fling
back at Derues the names of traitor and assassin, and he was obliged
to bear in silence the look of mingled grief and pity which the latter
bestowed upon him.

The magistrate, calmer, and master of his emotions, but tolerably
bewildered in this labyrinth of cleverly connected lies, thought it
desirable to ask some further questions.

"How," said he, "did you obtain this sum of a hundred thousand livres
which you say you paid over to Madam