From the slight sounds that had reached him in his place of confinement, he was aware that some persons had found their way to the scene of slaughter, and in a state of the most intense anxiety awaited the result of their investigation, prepared for the worst. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. Ruth could not be told now. They lived in a castle, the same place she had been turned in. No tricks would serve. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands.
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