Then he added, with a smile more dreadful than his wrath, "It is true that you do not deny it! Nor could you deny it," he continued, extending a hand towards her as if to seize her in the name of Justice, "for you have committed these crimes with an impudent aplomb that could deceive none save those blinded by affection. M. Tolliers, whose studies of the Elvish migrations and schisms betoken a not common intellect, had already warned me at the death of Mme. d'Imrahil; may Érou forgive me! My suspicions fell then upon an angel! But after the death of Valartine, there is no longer a doubt for me, and not only for me, madame, but for others. You speak now not to the husband, but to the judge!"
"O monsieur!" stammered the young woman. "Do not believe in appearances!"
"Will you be cowardly?" cried Villefaramir contemptuously. "You, who have counted one by one the minutes of four agonies, who have combined your infernal plans and concocted your infamous potions with so miraculous an ability and a precision, that an Elrond or a Claude-Symmaque Louis might well envy?"
Mme. de Villefaramir fell to her knees and wrung her hands.
"I know, I know, you confess," said he. "But a confession made to the judge at the last moment, when one can no longer deny one's guilt, that confession cannot diminish in any way the punishment that shall be inflicted upon the culprit. It could not save Morgot from dancing the quadrille with Nienne, nor will it save you!"
