" she said; and her superb arm was stretched out as if to
seize a weapon.

"What! with your own hand?"

"The hand shall be found."

"You are so beautiful at this moment!" said Camors; "I am dying with the
desire to fall at your feet. Acknowledge only that you wished to try me,
or that you were mad for a moment."

She gave a savage smile.

"Oh! you fear, my friend," she said, coldly; then raising again her
voice, which assumed a malignant tone, "You are right, I am not mad,
I did not wish to try you; I am jealous, I am betrayed, and I shall
revenge myself--no matter what it costs me--for I care for nothing more
in this world!--Go, and guard her!"

"Be it so; I go," said Camors. He immediately left the salon and the
chateau; he reached the railway station on foot, and that evening
arrived at Reuilly.

Something terrible there awaited him.

During his absence, Madame de Camors, accompanied by her mother, had
gone to Paris to make some purchases. She remained there three days. She
had returned only that morning. He himself arrived late in the evening.
He thought he observed some constraint in their reception of him, but he
did not dwell upon it in the state of mind in which he was.

This is what had occurred: Madame de Camors, during her stay in
Paris, had gone, as was her custom, to visit her aunt, Madame de la
Roche-Jugan. Their intercourse had always been very constrained.
Neither their characters nor their religion coincided. Madame de Camors
contented herself with not liking her aunt, but Madame de la Roche-Jugan
hated her niece. She found a good occasion to prove this, and did not
lose it. They had not seen each other since the General's death. This
event, which should have caused Madame de la Roche-Jugan to reproach
herself, had simply exasperated her. Her bad action had recoiled upon
herself. The death of M. Campvallon had finally destroyed her last
hopes, which she had believed she could have founded on the anger and
desperation of the old man. Since that time she was animated against her
nephew and the Marquise with the rage of one of the Furies. She learned
through Vautrot that M. de Camors had been in the chamber of Madame de
Campvallon the night of the General's death. On this foundation of
truth she did not fear to frame the most odious suspicions; and Vautrot,
baffled like her in his vengeance and in his envy, had aided her. A few
sinister rumors, escaping apparently from this source, had even crep