"You did not understand me," he said, "he is not the man I killed."

She became motionless, dumb. He left her then, from a feeling of
compassion, and returned to his seat. They remained for some time seated
in this way, one on each side of the fireplace; he, with his head leaning
against the mantel; she, crouched in her chair with her face concealed
behind her hands; only the striking of the clock interrupted this silence
and lulled their gloomy thoughts with its monotonous vibrations.

A sharp, quick sound against one of the windows interrupted this sad
scene. Clemence arose suddenly as if she had received a galvanic shock;
her frightened eyes met her husband's. He made an imperious gesture with
his hand as if to order silence, and both listened attentively and
anxiously.

The same noise was heard a second time. A rattling against the blinds
was followed by a dry, metallic sound, evidently caused by the contact of
some body against the window.

"It is some signal," said Christian in a low voice, as he looked at his
wife. "You probably know what it means."

"I do not, I swear to you," replied Clemence, her heart throbbing with a
new emotion.

"I will tell you, then; he is there and he has something to say to you.
Rise and open the window."

"Open the window?" said she, with a frightened look.