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"
The
courier
will
bring
the
paper
at
six
o
’
clock
as
usual
,
as
he
passes
;
at
eight
o
’
clock
,
after
M
.
de
Rênal
has
finished
reading
it
,
Elisa
will
go
on
tiptoe
and
place
it
on
her
bed
.
Later
on
she
will
wake
up
;
suddenly
,
as
she
reads
it
she
will
become
troubled
;
her
pretty
hands
will
tremble
;
she
will
go
on
reading
down
to
these
words
:
At
five
minutes
past
ten
he
had
ceased
to
exist
.
"
She
will
shed
hot
tears
,
I
know
her
;
it
will
matter
nothing
that
I
tried
to
assassinate
her
—
all
will
be
forgotten
,
and
the
person
whose
life
I
wished
to
take
will
be
the
only
one
who
will
sincerely
lament
my
death
.
"
Ah
,
that
’
s
a
good
paradox
,
"
he
thought
,
and
he
thought
about
nothing
except
madame
de
Rênal
during
the
good
quarter
of
an
hour
which
the
scene
Mathilde
was
making
still
lasted
.
In
spite
of
himself
,
and
though
he
made
frequent
answers
to
what
Mathilde
was
saying
,
he
could
not
take
his
mind
away
from
the
thought
of
the
bedroom
at
Verrières
.
He
saw
the
Besançon
Gazette
on
the
counterpane
of
orange
taffeta
;
he
saw
that
white
hand
clutching
at
it
convulsively
.
He
saw
madame
de
Rênal
cry
.
.
.
.
He
followed
the
path
of
every
tear
over
her
charming
face
.
Mademoiselle
de
la
Mole
,
being
unable
to
get
anything
out
of
Julien
,
asked
the
advocate
to
come
in
.
Fortunately
,
he
was
an
old
captain
of
the
Italian
army
of
1796
,
where
he
had
been
a
comrade
of
Manuel
.
He
opposed
the
condemned
man
’
s
resolution
as
a
matter
of
form
.
Wishing
to
treat
him
with
respect
,
Julien
explained
all
his
reasons
.
"
Upon
my
word
,
I
can
understand
a
man
taking
the
view
you
do
,
"
said
M
.
Felix
Vaneau
(
that
was
the
advocate
’
s
name
)
to
him
at
last
.
"
But
you
have
three
full
days
in
which
to
appeal
,
and
it
is
my
duty
to
come
back
every
day
.
If
a
volcano
were
to
open
under
the
prison
between
now
and
two
months
’
time
you
would
be
saved
.
You
might
die
of
illness
,
"
he
said
,
looking
at
Julien
.
Julien
pressed
his
hand
—
"
I
thank
you
,
you
are
a
good
fellow
.
I
will
think
it
over
"
And
when
Mathilde
eventually
left
with
the
advocate
,
he
felt
much
more
affection
for
the
advocate
than
for
her
.
When
he
was
deep
asleep
an
hour
afterwards
,
he
was
woken
up
by
feeling
tears
flow
over
his
hand
.
"
Oh
,
it
is
Mathilde
again
,
"
he
thought
,
only
half
awake
.
"
She
has
come
again
,
faithful
to
her
tactics
of
attacking
my
resolution
by
her
sentimentalism
.
"
Bored
by
the
prospect
of
this
new
scene
of
hackneyed
pathos
he
did
not
open
his
eyes
.
The
verses
of
Belphgor
,
as
he
ran
away
from
his
wife
,
came
into
his
mind
.
He
heard
a
strange
sigh
.
He
opened
his
eyes
.
It
was
madame
de
Rênal
.
