Jacques Ferrand having left
behind him all the doors open, the clerks could, with good reason, be
astonished at the extraordinary motions of their master, who came up one
staircase and descended another, without stopping in any of the chambers,
which he had traversed mechanically.
The Countess M'Gregor, at least, was not his trouble. In showing La
Chouette Fleur-de-Marie's picture, she had exposed her jewels, and to
secure them, the hag poniarded the lady and decamped.
CHAPTER II.
THOU SHALT NOT LUST.
It was night. The profound silence which reigned in the house occupied by
Jacques Ferrand was interrupted at intervals by the sighing of the wind,
and by rain, which fell in torrents. These melancholy sounds seemed to
render still more complete the solitude of the dwelling. In a bed-chamber
on the first floor, very comfortably and newly furnished, and covered with
a thick carpet, a young woman was standing before an excellent fire.
What was very strange, in the center of the door, which was strongly
bolted, and opposite the bed, was placed a small wicket of about five or
six inches square, which could be opened on the outside.
A reflecting lamp cast an obscure light in this room, which was hung with
garnet-colored silk; the curtains of the bed, as also the covering of a
large sofa, were of silk and worsted damask, of the same color.
We are minute in these details of furniture, so recently imported into the
dwelling of the notary, because it announces a complete revolution in the
habits of Jacques Ferrand, who, until then was of Spartan avarice and
meanness (above all as respected others) in all that concerned living.
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