open, beware of him."

"Yes," replied Madame Legrand, "my brother-in-law warned me three years
ago. One day Derues said to my sister-in-law,--I remember the words
perfectly,--'I should like to be a druggist, because one would always be
able to punish an enemy; and if one has a quarrel with anyone it would be
easy to get rid of him by means of a poisoned draught.' I neglected
these warnings. I surmounted the feeling of repugnance I first felt at
the sight of him; I have responded to his advances, and I greatly fear I
may have cause to repent it. But you know him as well as I do, who would
not have thought his piety sincere?--who would not still think so? And
notwithstanding all you have said, I still hesitate to feel serious
alarm; I am unwilling to believe in such utter depravity."

The conversation continued in this strain for some time, and then, as it
was getting late, the party separated.

Next morning early, a large and noisy crowd was assembled in the rue
Saint-Victor before Derues' shop of drugs and groceries. There was a
confusion of cross questions, of inquiries which obtained no answer, of
answers not addressed to the inquiry, a medley of sound, a pell-mell of
unconnected words, of affirmations, contradictions, and interrupted
narrations. Here, a group listened to an orator who held forth in his
shirt sleeves, a little farther there were disputes, quarrels,
exclamations of "Poor man!" "Such a good fellow!" "My poor gossip
Derues!" "Good heavens! what will he do now?" "Alas! he is quite done
for; it is to be hoped his creditors will give him time!" Above all this
uproar was heard a voice, sharp and piercing like a cat's, lamenting, and
relating with sobs the terrible misfortune of last night. At about three
in the morning the inhabitants of the rue St. Victor had been startled