an do nothing for her! Living, I must
keep silent and bow before your will; but dead, your absurd laws no
longer exist for me; dead, I can place myself between you and her, and I
will do it. Since, in order to aid her, I have no choice of arms, I will
not recoil from the one weapon which presents itself. Yes, if in order to
save her from your vengeance, I am obliged to resort to the shame of a
denunciation, I swear to you here, I will turn informer. I will sully my
name with this stain; I will pick up this stone from the mud, and I will
crush your head with it."

"These are a coward's words!" exclaimed Christian, as he fell back in his
chair.

Gerfaut looked at him with a calm, stony glance, while replying:

"No insults, please! One of us will not be living to-morrow. Remember
what I tell you: if I fall in this duel, it will be to your interest to
have this matter stop then and there. I submit to death myself; but I
exact liberty for her--liberty, with peace and respect. Think it over,
Monsieur; at the first outrage, I shall arise from my tomb to prevent a
second, and dig a trench between you and her which never can be
crossed\--the penitentiary!"

CHAPTER XXIV

A FRIEND'S ADVICE

After she came out of her faint, Madame de Bergenheim remained for a long
time in a dazed condition, and did not realize, save in a confused
manner, her real position. She saw vaguely, at her first glance, the
curtains of the bed upon which she lay, and thought that she had awakened
from an ordinary sleep. Little by little, her thoughts became clearer,
and she saw that she was fully dressed, also that her room seemed
brighter than it usually was with only her night-lamp lighted. She
noticed between the half-open curtains a gigantic form reflected almost
to the ceiling opposite her bed. She sat up and distinctly saw a man
sitting in the corner by the fireplace. Frozen with terror, she fell back
upon her pillow as she recognized her husband. Then she remembered
everything, even the slightest details of the scene in the small parlor.
She felt ready to faint again when she heard Christian's steps upon the
carpet, although he walked with great precaution.

The Baron looked at her a moment, and then, opening the bed-curtains, he
said:

"You can not pass the night thus, it is nearly three o'clock. You must go
to bed as usual."

Clemence shivered at these words, whose accent, however, was not hard.
She obeyed mechanically; but she ha