The Lerouge Case, Émile Gaboriau [old books to read TXT] 📗

know the truth? I have committed murder, an assassination. But it was all for you.”

The barrister felt that Juliette would certainly recoil from him in horror. He expected that terror which a murderer inspires. He was resigned to it in advance. He thought that she would fly from him; perhaps there would be a scene. She might, who knows, have hysterics; might cry out, call for succor, for help, for aid. He was wrong. With a bound, Juliette flew to him, throwing herself upon him, her arms about his neck, and embraced him as she had never embraced him before.

“Yes, I do love you!” she cried. “Yes, you have committed a crime for my sake, because you loved me. You have a heart. I never really knew you before!”

It had cost him dear to inspire this passion in Madame Juliette; but Noel never thought of that. He experienced a moment of intense delight: nothing appeared hopeless to him now. But he had the presence of mind to free himself from her embrace. “Let us go,” he said; “the one great danger is, that I do not know from whence the attack comes. How they have discovered the truth is still a mystery to me.”

Juliette remembered her alarming visitor of the afternoon; she understood it all. “Oh, what a wretched woman I am!” she cried, wringing her hands in despair; “it is I who have betrayed you. It occurred on Tuesday, did it not?”

“Yes, Tuesday.”

“Ah, then I have told all, without a doubt, to your friend, the old man I supposed you had sent, Tabaret!”

“Has Tabaret been here?”

“Yes; just a little while ago.”

“Come, then,” cried Noel, “quickly; it’s a miracle that he hasn’t been back.”

He took her arm, to hurry her away; but she nimbly released herself. “Wait,” said she. “I have some money, some jewels. I will take them.”

“It is useless. Leave everything behind. I have a fortune, Juliette; let us fly!”

She had already opened her jewel box, and was throwing everything of value that she possessed pell mell into a little travelling bag.

“Ah, you are ruining me,” cried Noel, “you are ruining me!”

He spoke thus; but his heart was overflowing with joy. “What sublime devotion! She loves me truly,” he said to himself; “for my sake, she renounces her happy life without hesitation; for my sake, she sacrifices all!”

Juliette had finished her preparations, and was hastily tying on her bonnet, when the doorbell rang.

“It is the police!” cried Noel, becoming, if possible, even more livid.

The young woman and her lover stood as immovable as two statues, with great drops of perspiration on their foreheads, their eyes dilated, and their ears listening intently. A second ring was heard, then a third.

Charlotte appeared walking on tiptoe. “There are several,” she whispered; “I heard them talking together.”

Grown tired of ringing, they knocked loudly on the door. The sound of a voice reached the drawing-room, and the word “law” was plainly heard.

“No more hope!” murmured Noel.

“Don’t despair,” cried Juliette; “try the servants’ staircase!”

“You may be sure they have not forgotten it.”

Juliette went to see, and returned dejected and terrified. She bad distinguished heavy footsteps on the landing, made by someone endeavouring to walk softly. “There must be some way of escape!” she cried fiercely.

“Yes,” replied Noel, “one way. I have given my word. They are picking the lock. Fasten all the doors, and let them break them down; it will give me time.”

Juliette and Charlotte ran to carry out his directions. Then Noel, leaning against the mantel piece, seized his revolver and pointed it at his breast. But Juliette, who had returned, perceiving the movement, threw herself upon her lover, but so violently that the revolver turned aside and went off. The shot took effect, the bullet entering Noel’s stomach. He uttered a frightful cry. Juliette had made his death a terrible punishment; she had prolonged his agony. He staggered, but remained standing, supporting himself by the mantel piece, while the blood flowed copiously from his wound.

Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the revolver from his grasp. “You shall not kill yourself,” she cried, “I will not let you. You are mine; I love you! Let them come. What can they do to you? If they put you in prison, you can escape. I will help you, we will bribe the jailors. Ah, we will live so happily together, no matter where, far away in America where no one knows us!”

The outer door had yielded; the police were now picking the lock of the door of the antechamber.

“Let me finish!” murmured Noel; “they must not take me alive!”

And, with a supreme effort, triumphing over his dreadful agony, he released himself, and roughly pushed Juliette away. She fell down near the sofa. Then, he once more aimed his revolver at the place where he felt his heart beating, pulled the trigger and rolled to the floor. It was full time, for the police at that moment entered the room. Their first thought was, that before shooting himself, Noel had shot his mistress. They knew of cases where people had romantically desired to quit this world in company; and, moreover, had they not heard two reports? But Juliette was already on her feet again.

“A doctor,” she cried, “a doctor! He can not be dead!”

One man ran out; while the others, under old Tabaret’s direction, raised the body, and carried it to Madame Juliette’s bedroom where they laid it on the bed. “For his sake, I trust his wounds are mortal!” murmured the old detective, whose anger left him at the sight. “After all, I loved him as though he were my own child; his name is still in my will!”

Old Tabaret stopped. Noel just then uttered a groan, and opened his eyes. “You see that he will live!” cried Juliette. The barrister shook his head feebly, and, for a moment, he tossed about painfully on the bed, passing his right hand first under his coat, and then under his pillow. He even succeeded in