tained with red blotches. Pascal had in vain
endeavoured to hold her down. Trembling all over, and with her arms
outstretched, she shook her head deliriously.

"The blood-money! the blood-money!" she again and again repeated. "I
heard the gold. And it is they, they who sold him. Ah! the murderers!
They are a pack of wolves."

Then she pushed her hair aback, and passed her hand over her brow, as
though seeking to collect her thoughts. And she continued: "Ah! I have
long seen him with a bullet-hole in his forehead. There were always
people lying in wait for him with guns. They used to sign to me that
they were going to fire. . . . It's terrible! I feel some one breaking
my bones and battering out my brains. Oh! Mercy! Mercy! I beseech you;
he shall not see her any more--never, never! I will shut him up. I will
prevent him from walking out with her. Mercy! Mercy! Don't fire. It is
not my fault. If you knew----"

She had almost fallen on her knees, and was weeping and entreating while
she stretched her poor trembling hands towards some horrible vision
which she saw in the darkness. Then she suddenly rose upright, and her
eyes opened still more widely as a terrible cry came from her convulsed
throat, as though some awful sight, visible to her alone, had filled her
with mad terror.

"Oh, the gendarme!" she said, choking and falling backwards on the bed,
where she rolled about, breaking into long bursts of furious, insane
laughter.

Pascal was studying the attack attentively. The two brothers, who felt
very frightened, and only detected snatches of what their mother said,
had taken refuge in a corner of the room. When Rougon heard the word
gendarme, he thought he understood her. Ever since the murder of her
lover, the elder Macquart, on the frontier, aunt Dide had cherished a
bitter hatred against all gendarmes and custom-house officers, whom she
mingled together in one common longing for vengeance.

"Why, it's the story of the poacher that she's telling us," he
whispered.

But Pascal made a sign to him to keep quiet. The stricken woman had
raised herself with difficulty, and was looking round her, with a
stupefied air. She remained silent for a moment, endeavouring to
recognise the various objects in the room, as though she were in some
strange place. Then, with a sudden expression of anxiety, she asked:
"Where is the gun?"

The doctor put the carbine into her hands. At this she raised a light
cry of joy, and gazed