not make her too wretched."

He stopped, for his voice failed him, and his eyes filled with tears.

"I know what I ought to do," replied the Baron, in as harsh a tone as
Gerfaut's had been tender; "I am her husband, and I do not recognize
anybody's right, yours least of all, to interpose between us."

"I can foresee the fate which you have in reserve for her," replied
the lover, indignantly; "you will not murder her, for that would be too
imprudent; what would become of your vaunted honor then? But you will
slowly kill her; you will make her die a new death every day, in order
to satisfy a blind vengeance. You are a man to meditate over each new
torture as calmly as you have regulated every detail of our duel."

Bergenheim, instead of replying, lighted a candle as if to put an end to
this discussion.

"Until to-morrow, Monsieur," said he, with a cold air.

"One moment!" exclaimed Gerfaut, as he arose; "you refuse to give me
one word which will assure me of the fate of the woman whose life I have
ruined?"

"I have nothing to say."

"Very well, then; I will protect her, and I will do it in spite of you
and against you."

"Not another word," interrupted the Baron, sternly.

Octave leaned over the table between them and looked at him for a
moment, then said in a terrible voice:

"You killed Lambernier!"

Christian bounded backward as if he had been struck.

"I was a witness of that murder," continued Gerfaut, slowly, as he
emphasized each word; "I will write my deposition and give it to a man
of whom I am as sure as of myself. If I die to-morrow, I will leave him
a mission which no effort on your part will prevent him from fulfilling.
He shall watch over your slightest actions with inexorable vigilance; he
will be Madame de Bergenheim's protector, if you forget that your first
duty is to protect her. The day upon which you abuse your position with
her, the day when she shall call out despairingly, 'Help me!' that day
shall my deposition be placed in the hands of the public prosecutor
at Nancy. He will believe its contents; of that you may be certain.
Besides, the river is an indiscreet tomb; before long it will give up
the body you have confided to it. You will be tried and condemned. You
know the punishment for murder! It is hard labor for life."

Bergenheim darted toward the mantel at these words and seized a
hunting-knife which hung there. Octave, as he saw him ready to strike,
crossed his arms upon his