"Curses!" cried Pascal, losing all control of himself, "she tortures me on burning coals."
"And that is not all," continued the marquise, in a low, almost panting, voice. "At a late hour of the night you will see our windows closed, our curtains discreetly drawn on the feeble light of our alabaster lamps, so sweet and propitious to the voluptuousness of the night." Then the marquise, bursting into peals of laughter, added: "And, my poor M. Pascal, I would not be astonished then if, in your rage and despair, you should become mad and blow your brains out."
"Not without having my revenge, at least," muttered Pascal, wrought to frenzy, and rushing to his desk where he had a loaded pistol.
But Madeleine, who knew she had everything to fear from this man, had, as she slowly approached him, kept him under her eye, and, step by step, had reached the chimney; at the threatening gesture of Pascal she pulled the bell-cord violently.
At the moment Pascal, livid and frightful, turned to face Madeleine, the servant entered hastily, surprised at the loud ringing of the bell.
At the sound of the opening door and the sight of his valet, Pascal came to himself, quickly thrust the hand which held the pistol behind him, and let it fall on the carpet.
The marquise had taken advantage of the interruption to approach the door left open by the servant, and to call in a loud voice to the notary, who, seated in the next room, had also quickly risen at the sudden sound of the bell:
"Monsieur, a thousand pardons for having made you wait so long; do me the favour to enter."
"Go out," said Pascal, roughly, to his servant.
And the financier wiped his livid brow, which was bathed in a cold sweat.
Madeleine, alone with Pascal and the notary, said to the latter:
"You have, monsieur, prepared the deed relating to M. Charles Dutertre?"
"Yes, madame, there is nothing to do but to approve the document and sign."
"Very well," said the marquise; then, while Pascal, wholly overcome, was leaning on the armchair before his desk, she took a sheet of paper and a pen, and wrote what follows:
"Sign the deed, and, not only will I not live opposite your house, but this evening I will leave Paris, and will not return in a long time. What I promise I will keep."