"Oh, Paulina!" cried Douglas; "why still endeavour to sustain a
deception which I have unmasked? I know all."
"All what?" gasped the bewildered woman.
"All your guilt--all your baseness. Oh, Paulina, confess the treachery
which would have robbed me of life; and which, failing that, has for
ever destroyed my peace. If you are human, let some word of remorse,
some tardy expression of regret, attest your womanhood."
"I can only think that he is mad," murmured Paulina to herself, as she
gazed on her accuser with wondering eyes.
"Paulina, at least do not pretend to misunderstand me."
"Your words," replied Madame Durski, "seem to me the utterances of a
madman. For pity's sake, calm yourself, and speak plainly."
"I think that I have spoken, very plainly."
"I can discover no meaning in your words. What is it you would have me
regret? Of what crime do you accuse me?"
"The worst and darkest of all crimes," replied Douglas; "the crime of
murder."
"Murder?"
"Yes; the crime of the secret poisoner!"
"Douglas!" cried Paulina, with a stifled shriek of terror; and then,
recoiling from him suddenly, she fell half fainting into a chair. "Oh,
why do I try to reason with him?" she murmured, piteously; "he is mad--
he is mad! My poor Douglas!" continued Paulina, sobbing hysterically,
"you are mad yourself, and you will drive me mad.
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