M. Marambot then went on:

"I have received nothing. M. Malois takes back what he said, the
law-suit will take place; that is why you carried the letters to the
mail. Just read those on my desk."

With a final effort, he reached for his matches and lit the candle.

He was covered with blood. His sheets, his curtains, and even the walls,
were spattered with red. Denis, standing in the middle of the room, was
also bloody from head to foot.

When he saw the blood, M. Marambot thought himself dead, and fell
unconscious.

At break of day he revived. It was some time, however, before he
regained his senses, and was able to understand or remember. But,
suddenly, the memory of the attack and of his wounds returned to him,
and he was filled with such terror that he closed his eyes in order not
to see anything. After a few minutes he grew calmer and began to think.
He had not died' immediately, therefore he might still recover. He
felt weak, very weak; but he had no real pain, although he noticed an
uncomfortable smarting sensation in several parts of his body. He also
felt icy cold, and all wet, and as though wrapped up in bandages. He
thought that this dampness came from the blood which he had lost; and he
shivered at the dreadful thought of this red liquid which had come
from his veins and covered his bed. The idea of seeing this terrible
spectacle again so upset him that he kept his eyes closed with all his
strength, as though they might open in spite of himself.

What had become of Denis? He had probably escaped.

But what could he, Marambot, do now? Get up? Call for help? But if he
should make the slightest motions, his wounds would undoubtedly open up
again and he would die from loss of blood.

Suddenly he heard the door of his room open. His heart almost stopped.
It was certainly Denis who was coming to finish him up. He held his
breath in order to make the murderer think that he had been successful.

He felt his sheet being lifted up, and then someone feeling his stomach.
A sharp pain near his hip made him start. He was being very gently
washed with cold water. Therefore, someone must have discovered
the misdeed and he was being cared for. A wild joy seized him; but
prudently, he did not wish to show that he was conscious. He opened one
eye, just one, with the greatest precaution.

He recognized Denis standing beside him, Denis himself! Mercy! He
hastily closed his eye again.

Denis! What could he be doing?