ntemptuous
indifference, for he ground an oath through his teeth, and said, 'Feel!
this dagger is sharp, Henri. If my wife breathes a word, and I am such
a fool as not to have stopped her mouth effectually before she can
bring down gendarmes upon us, just let that good steel find its way to
my heart. Let her guess but one tittle, let her have but one slight
suspicion that I am not a "grand proprietaire," much less imagine that
I am a chief of chauffeurs, and she follows Victorine on the long
journey beyond Paris that very day.'

'She'll outwit you yet; or I never judged women well. Those still
silent ones are the devil. She'll be off during some of your absences,
having picked out some secret that will break us all on the wheel.'

'Bah!' said his voice; and then in a minute he added, 'Let her go if
she will. But, where she goes, I will follow; so don't cry before
you're hurt.'

By this time, they had nearly stripped the body; and the conversation
turned on what they should do with it. I learnt that the dead man was
the Sieur de Poissy, a neighbouring gentleman, whom I had often heard
of as hunting with my husband. I had never seen him, but they spoke as
if he had come upon them while they were robbing some Cologne merchant,
torturing him after the cruel practice of the chauffeurs, by roasting
the feet of their victims in order to compel them to reveal any hidden
circumstances connected with their wealth, of which the chauffeurs
afterwards made use; and this Sieur de Poissy coming down upon them,
and recognising M. de la Tourelle, they had killed him, and brought him
thither after nightfall. I heard him whom I called my husband, laugh
his little light laugh as he spoke of the way in which the dead body
had been strapped before one of the riders, in such a way that it
appeared to any passer-by as if, in truth, the murderer were tenderly
supporting some sick person. He repeated some mocking reply of double
meaning, which he himself had given to some one who made inquiry. He
enjoyed the play upon words, softly applauding his own wit. And all the
time the poor helpless outstretched arms of the dead lay close to his
dainty boot! Then another stooped (my heart stopped beating), and
picked up a letter lying on the ground--a letter that had dropped out
of M. de Poissy's pocket--a letter from his wife, full of tender words
of endearment and pretty babblings of love. This was read aloud, with
coarse ribald comments on every sen