Part 28 (1/2)
”No,” she said, sharply.
”Why not? Though you did not even shake hands with her, I presume that Madame d'Ormeval is your friend?”
He gave her no time to reflect, drew her into the next room, closed the door and, at once pouncing upon Madame d'Ormeval, who was trying to go out and return to her own room, said:
”No, madame, listen, I implore you. Madame Astaing's presence need not drive you away. We have very serious matters to discuss, without losing a minute.”
The two women, standing face to face, were looking at each other with the same expression of implacable hatred, in which might be read the same confusion of spirit and the same restrained anger. Hortense, who believed them to be friends and who might, up to a certain point, have believed them to be accomplices, foresaw with terror the hostile encounter which she felt to be inevitable. She compelled Madame d'Ormeval to resume her seat, while Renine took up his position in the middle of the room and spoke in resolute tones:
”Chance, which has placed me in possession of part of the truth, will enable me to save you both, if you are willing to a.s.sist me with a frank explanation that will give me the particulars which I still need. Each of you knows the danger in which she stands, because each of you is conscious in her heart of the evil for which she is responsible. But you are carried away by hatred; and it is for me to see clearly and to act. The examining-magistrate will be here in half-an-hour. By that time, you must have come to an agreement.”
They both started, as though offended by such a word.
”Yes, an agreement,” he repeated, in a more imperious tone. ”Whether you like it or not, you will come to an agreement. You are not the only ones to be considered. There are your two little daughters, Madame d'Ormeval. Since circ.u.mstances have set me in their path, I am intervening in their defence and for their safety. A blunder, a word too much; and they are ruined. That must not happen.”
At the mention of her children, Madame d'Ormeval broke down and sobbed.
Germaine Astaing shrugged her shoulders and made a movement towards the door. Renine once more blocked the way:
”Where are you going?”
”I have been summoned by the examining-magistrate.”
”No, you have not.”
”Yes, I have. Just as all those have been who have any evidence to give.”
”You were not on the spot. You know nothing of what happened. n.o.body knows anything of the murder.”
”I know who committed it.”
”That's impossible.”
”It was Therese d'Ormeval.”
The accusation was hurled forth in an outburst of rage and with a fiercely threatening gesture.
”You wretched creature!” exclaimed madame d'Ormeval, rus.h.i.+ng at her. ”Go!
Leave the room! Oh, what a wretch the woman is!”
Hortense was trying to restrain her, but Renine whispered:
”Let them be. It's what I wanted ... to pitch them one against the other and so to let in the day-light.”
Madame Astaing had made a convulsive effort to ward off the insult with a jest; and she sn.i.g.g.e.red:
”A wretched creature? Why? Because I have accused you?”
”Why? For every reason! You're a wretched creature! You hear what I say, Germaine: you're a wretch!”
Therese d'Ormeval was repeating the insult as though it afforded her some relief. Her anger was abating. Very likely also she no longer had the strength to keep up the struggle; and it was Madame Astaing who returned to the attack, with her fists clenched and her face distorted and suddenly aged by fully twenty years:
”You! You dare to insult me, you! You after the murder you have committed!