Horrible was the stupefaction when those bodies were found there. Nobody
could explain the catastrophe. Morange carried off his secret, the reason
for that savage act of justice which he had accomplished according to the
chance suggestions of his dementia. Perhaps he had wished to punish
Constance, perhaps he had desired to repair the old wrong: Denis long
since stricken in the person of his brother, and now saved for the sake
of his daughter Hortense, who would live happily with Margot, the pretty
doll who was so good. By suppressing the criminal instrument the old
accountant had indeed averted the possibility of a fresh crime. Swayed by
his fixed idea, however, he had doubtless never reasoned that cataclysmic
deed of justice, which was above reason, and which passed by with the
impassive savagery of a death-dealing hurricane.
At the works there was but one opinion, Morange had assuredly been mad;
and he alone could have caused the accident, particularly as it was
impossible to account, otherwise than by an act of madness, for the
extinguishing of the lights, the opening of the balustrade-door, and the
plunge into the cavity which he knew to be there, and into which had
followed him the unfortunate young man his companion.
Pages:
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706