Armande de Sairmeuse.
And he shuddered on pronouncing the words: "She was dead." It seemed to
him that she was about to speak, and to insist upon the fulfilment of
his pledge.
After a moment's silence, he resumed, in a hollow voice:
"I called for aid; it came. Mademoiselle Armande was adored by everyone;
there was great lamentation, and a half hour of indescribable confusion
followed her death. I was able to withdraw, unnoticed, to run into
the garden, and to carry away the oaken chest. An hour later, it was
concealed in the miserable hovel in which I dwelt. The following year I
purchased Sairmeuse."
He had confessed all; and he paused, trembling, trying to read his
sentence in the eyes of his daughter.
"And can you hesitate?" she demanded.
"Ah! you do not know----"
"I know that Sairmeuse must be given up."
This was the decree of his own conscience, that faint voice which speaks
only in a whisper, but which all the tumult on earth cannot overpower.
"No one saw me take away the chest," he faltered. "If anyone suspected
it, there is not a single proof against me.
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