a house. What was the
meaning of this? I asked myself in amazement; what was he going to be
about? I pressed myself close to the wall. Presently there came up a
gentleman, trilling and singing, with a white plume distinct in the
darkness, and clanking spurs. Cardillac darted out upon him from the
darkness, like a tiger on his prey; he fell to the ground gasping. I
rushed up with a cry of terror. Cardillac was leaning over him as he
lay on the ground. 'Master Cardillac, what are you about?' I cried
aloud. 'Curses upon you!' he cried, and, running by me with lightning
speed, disappeared. Quite beyond myself--scarcely able to walk a
step--I went up to the gentleman on the ground, and knelt down beside
him, thinking it might still be possible to save him. But there was no
trace of life left in him. In my alarm I scarcely noticed that the
Marechaussee had come up and surrounded me. 'Another one laid low by
the demons!' they cried, all speaking at once. 'Ah, ha! youngster! what
are you doing here?--are _you_ one of the band?' and they seized me. I
stammered out in the best way I could that I was incapable of such a
terrible deed, and that they must let me go. Then one of them held a
lantern to my face, and said, with a laugh: 'This is Olivier Brusson;
the goldsmith who works with our worthy Master Rene Cardillac. _He_
murder folks in the street!--very likely story! Who ever heard of a
murderer lamenting over the body, and letting himself be nabbed? Tell
us all about it, my lad; out with it straight.' 'Right before my eyes,'
I said, 'a man sprang out upon this one; stabbed him, and ran off like
lightning. I cried as loud as I could. I wanted to see if he could be
saved.' 'No, my son,' cried one of those who had lifted up the body,
'he's done for!--the dagger-stab right through his heart, as usual.'
'The deuce!' said another; 'just too late again, as we were the day
before yesterday.' And they went away with the body.

"What _I_ thought of all this I really cannot tell you. I pinched
myself, to see if I were not in some horrible dream. I felt as if I
must wake up directly, and marvel at the absurdity of what I had been
dreaming. Cardillac--my Madelon's father--an atrocious murderer! I had
sunk down powerless on the stone steps of a house; the daylight was
growing brighter and brighter. An officer's hat with a fine plume was
lying before me on the pavement. Cardillac's deed of blood, committed
on the spot, came clearly back to