nails--sharp and keen! An old tiger I am, but
agile, strong, and bold; no one dares dispute my tigress Cecily with me.
Ah, she calls--she calls!" he said, advancing his hideous visage and
listening.

After a moment's silence he huddled himself against the wall again and
continued: "No! I thought I had heard her; but she is not there. Yet I
see her; oh, yes, always--always! Ah, there she is! She calls me; she
roars--roars down there! I'm here--I'm here!" and Ferrand dragged
himself towards the centre of the room on his hands and knees. Although
his strength was exhausted, he made a convulsive leap from time to time,
then paused, and listened attentively. "Where is she? I approach--she
goes away. Cecily, here is your old tiger!" he cried, as, with a last
effort, he arose and balanced himself on his knees. Suddenly falling
back with affright, his body bending on his heels, his hair on end, his
look haggard, his mouth twisted with terror, his two hands extended, he
seemed to struggle with desperation with some invisible object, uttering
incoherent words, and exclaiming, in broken tones, "What a bite! Help!
My hands are powerless; I cannot drive away these sharp teeth! No, no!
Oh! Not such eyes! Help! A serpent--a black snake--with its flat head
and fiery eyes. How it looks at me! It is the fiend! Ah, he knows
me--Jacques Ferrand--at church--the pious man--always at church! Go,
go--cross yourself!" And the notary, raising himself a little, and
leaning with one hand on the floor, endeavoured to cross himself with
the other. His livid brow was bathed in cold sweat, his eyes began to
lose their transparency and become dim, all the symptoms of approaching
death manifested themselves.

Rodolph and the other witnesses of the scene remained as motionless and
mute as if they had been under the effect of a frightful dream.

"Oh!" continued Jacques Ferrand, still half stretched on the floor, and
supporting himself by one hand, "the demon vanishes. I am going to
church--I am a holy man--I pray! What, no one will know it? Do you think
so? No, no, tempter--be quite sure! Well, let them come--these
women--all! Yes, all--if no one finds it out! But the secret!" he
continued, in a tone of exhaustion, "the secret! Ah, here they are!
Three! What says this one?--I am Louise Morel! Oh, yes--Louise Morel; I
know it! I am only one of the people! You think me handsome? Here--take
her! What does she bring me?--her head cut off by the executioner