"Margot is dead, Monsieur," said the aged valet. The tears rolled down
his leathery cheeks.
"Margot!" murmured the Chevalier. He had never heard this name before.
What did it mean? "Father?" He came swiftly toward the marquis.
"Dead!" The marquis staggered to his feet without assistance. He
swung dizzily toward the candles on the mantel. He struck them. "Away
with the lights, fools." The candles rolled and sputtered en the
floor. "Away with them, I say!" Toward the table he lurched, avoiding
the Chevalier's arms. From the table he dashed the candles. "Away
with the lights! The Marquis de Perigny shall die as he lived . . . in
the dark!"
He fell upon the bed, his face hidden in the pillows. When the
Chevalier reached his side he was dead.
CHAPTER XXXV
BROTHER!
For two weeks Brother Jacques lay silent on his cot; lay with an apathy
which alarmed the good brothers of the Order. He spoke to no one, and
no sound swerved his dull gaze from the whitewashed ceiling of his
little room in the college. Only one man could solve the mystery of
this apathy, the secret of this insensibility, and his lips were sealed
as securely as the door of a donjon-keep: Jehan.
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