“For he was quite sure, the scoundrel! that the secret of your sufferings would be well kept.  He had carefully chosen the house in which you were to die of hunger and misery.  The two Chevassats were bound to be his devoted accomplices, even unto death.  This is what gave him the amazing boldness, the inconceivable brutality, to watch your slow agony; no doubt he became quite impatient at your delaying suicide so long.

“Finally you were driven to it; and your death would have realized their atrocious hopes, if Providence had not miraculously stepped in,—­that Providence which always, sooner or later, takes its revenge, whatever the wicked may say to the contrary.  Yes, these wretches thought they had now surely gotten rid of you, when I came in.  That very morning, the woman Chevassat had told them, no doubt, ‘She’ll do it to-night!’ And that evening, Sarah, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin asked, no doubt, full of hope, ‘Is it all over?’”

Immovable, and white as marble, her eyes dilated beyond measure, and her lips half-open, poor Henrietta listened.  She felt as if a bright ray of the sun had suddenly illumined the darkest depths of the abyss from which she had been barely snatched.

“Yes,” she said, “yes; now I see it all.”

Then, as the old dealer, out of breath, and his voice hoarse with indignation, paused a moment, she asked,—­

“Still there is one circumstance which I cannot understand:  Sarah insists upon it that she knew nothing of the forged letter by means of which Daniel was sent abroad.  She told me, on the contrary, that she had wished to keep him here, because she loved him, and he loved her.”

“Ah! do not believe a word of those infamous stories,” broke in Papa Ravinet’s sister.

But the old man scratched his head, and said,—­

“No, certainly not!  We ought not to believe such stories.  And yet, I wonder if there is not some new trick in that.  Unless, indeed—­But no, that would be almost too lucky for us!  Unless Sarah should really love M. Champcey!”

And, as if he was afraid of having given rise to hopes which he founded upon this contingency, he added at once,—­

“But let us return to facts.  When Sarah was sure of you, she turned her attention to your father.  While they were murdering you slowly, she abused the inexperience of Count Ville-Handry to lead him into a path at the end of which he could not but leave his honor behind him.  Notice, pray, that the articles which you read are dated on the very day on which you would probably have died.  That is a clear evidence of her crime.  Thinking that she had gotten rid of you, she evidently said to herself, ‘And now for the father.’”

Henrietta grew red in her face, as if a jet of fire had blazed up in it.  She exclaimed,—­

“Great God!  The proofs are coming out; the crime will be disclosed.  I have no doubt the assassins told each other that Count Ville-Handry would never survive such a foul stain on his honor.  And they dared all, sure as they were that that honorable man would carry the secret of their wickedness and of their unheard-of robbery with him to the grave.”