but a profound serenity. He told the story as he would any other,
no matter what.

"Please go on, Monsieur," resumed M. Domini.

"Alas!" said M. Plantat, "nothing here below is eternal, not even
grief. I know it better than anybody. Soon, to the tears of the
first days, to violent despair, there succeeded, in the count and
Madame Bertha, a reasonable sadness, then a soft melancholy. And
in one year after Sauvresy's death Monsieur de Tremorel espoused
his widow."

During this long narrative the mayor had several times exhibited
marks of impatience. At the end, being able to hold in no longer,
he exclaimed:

"There, those are surely exact details; but I question whether they
have advanced us a step in this grave matter which occupies us all
--to find the murderers of the count and countess."

M. Plantat, at these words, bent on the judge of instruction his
clear and deep look, as if to search his conscience to the bottom.

"These details were indispensable," returned M. Domini, "and they
are very clear. Those rendezvous at the hotel struck me; one knows
not to what extremities jealousy might lead a woman--"

He stopped abruptly, seeking, no doubt, some connection between the
pretty Parisian and the murderers; then resumed: