Beneath the gust of horror which
chilled him, Morange could only find these words: "Well, madame, poor
Blaise came just behind you and broke his skull."
Her demeanor was perfect; her hands quivered as she raised them, and it
was in a halting voice that she exclaimed: "Good Lord! good Lord, what a
frightful misfortune."
But at that moment an uproar arose through the house. The drawing-room
door had remained open, and the voices and footsteps of a number of
people drew nearer, became each moment more distinct. Orders were being
given on the stairs, men were straining and drawing breath, there were
all the signs of the approach of some cumbrous burden, carried as gently
as possible.
"What! is he being brought up here to me?" exclaimed Constance turning
pale, and her involuntary cry would have sufficed to enlighten the
accountant had he needed it. "He is being brought to me here!"
It was not Morange who answered; he was stupefied by the blow. But
Beauchene abruptly appeared preceding the body, and he likewise was livid
and beside himself, to such a degree did this sudden visit of death
thrill him with fear, in his need of happy life.
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