spires us with
horror, when it is the cloak of crime. Let the artist paint Sin
beautiful on the threshold of hell, and it will be a thousand times
more terrible when that which is dearest to man is but the tool of his
wickedness.

I could no longer think of Madame Bertollon without detestation. She
was a poisoner, and all that Larette had hastily told me was confirmed
in Montpellier; while a number of various circumstances threw still
greater light on her murderous deed.

All Montpellier was in agitation at this extraordinary occurrence.
Bertollon's gradual recovery, which was accomplished by the skill of
the physicians, caused the most lively joy in every house. I no more
left the bed of my beloved friend, whom I honoured as a father and a
brother.

"Oh, Bertollon!" I exclaimed one day, "You are saved. How miserable I
should have been had you died! My grief would not long have allowed me
to survive your death. You are my only friend, the only one in the
world; you are my benefactor, my guardian angel. I am always ready to
die for you. And is it possible that a woman, such a tender timid
creature, a woman endowed with, such heavenly charms, a woman whose
eyes and mouth preached virtue so sweetly, could be so atrocious?"

"Do you still love her, Alamontade," said Bertollon, pressing my hand.

"Love her? The very thought is revolting to me. I never loved her; it
was only trifling vanity and a delusion of the senses that I once in my
infatuation called love. I have never loved her. A secret power
always drove my heart from her. How should I love one who intended to
murder you? I curse every hour I spent in her society; and repent the
attentions I lavished on her. Ah! I knew her not."

By this time the trial had commenced. The most celebrated counsel in
Montpellier, M. Menard, came forward of his own accord to the family of
the accused, and offered to be her defender. Menard had never lost a
suit. The charm of his eloquence conquered all; where he could not
convince reason he knew how to entangle it inextricably by doubts, and
to excite against it all the feelings of the heart. Whenever he spoke
in the court it was crowded with spectators, who often came from
distant parts to hear him. He undertook with success even the worst
cause, if he could expect from it a rich reward.

"I desire nothing," said Bertollon, "but an eternal separation from the
poisoner, and I require no other punishment for her