eyes, as if lost in thought, were fixed straight before him on the
curtain opposite the chimney. Suddenly this curtain was noiselessly
raised, and the young Marquise appeared, her brow surmounted by her
coronet. She threw a rapid glance over the boudoir, and after a moment's
pause, let the curtain fall gently, and advanced directly toward Camors,
who stood dazzled and immovable. She took both his hands, without
speaking, looked at his steadily--throwing a rapid glance at her husband,
who still slept--and, standing on tiptoe, offered her lips to the young
man.

Bewildered, and forgetting all else, he bent, and imprinted a kiss on her
lips.

At that very moment, the General made a sudden movement and woke up; but
the same instant the Marquise was standing before him, her hands resting
on the card-table; and smiling upon him, she said, "Good-morning, my
General!"

The General murmured a few words of apology, but she laughingly pushed
him back on his divan.

"Continue your nap," she said; "I have come in search of my cousin, for
the last cotillon." The General obeyed.

She passed out by the gallery. The young man; pale as a spectre, followed
her.

Passing under the curtain, she turned toward him with a wild light
burning in her eyes. Then, before she was lost in the throng, she
whispered, in a low, thrilling voice:

"There is the crime!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE FIRST ACT OF THE TRAGEDY

Camors did not attempt to rejoin the Marquise, and it seemed to him that
she also avoided him. A quarter of an hour later, he left the Hotel
Campvallon.

He returned immediately home. A lamp was burning in his chamber. When he
saw himself in the mirror, his own face terrified him. This exciting
scene had shaken his nerves.

He could no longer control himself. His pupil had become his master. The
fact itself did not surprise him. Woman is more exalted than man in
morality. There is no virtue, no devotion, no heroism in which she does
not surpass him; but once impelled to the verge of the abyss, she falls
faster and lower than man. This is attributable to two causes: she has
more passion, and she has no honor. For honor is a reality and must not
be underrated. It is a noble, delicate, and salutary quality. It elevates
manly attributes; in fact, it constitutes the modesty of man. It is
sometimes a force, and always a grace. But to think that honor is
all-sufficient; that in the face of great interests, great passions,
great