A paper, part of which was torn, contained this written confession, in the handwriting of the commander, a few days after the bloody tragedy which he relates. The person to whom it was addressed is unknown. Some passages, tom intentionally, perhaps, seem to refer to a journey, made by the commander in Languedoc at the same period, for the purpose, no doubt, of learning the fate of his unfortunate child.

“And my hands are stained with blood. I have just committed a murder.

“I have assassinated the man against whom I have committed a deadly wrong.

“At eleven o’clock I presented myself at the little gate of the park. I was conducted into the chamber of Emilie.

“She was in bed, pale, almost dying.

“She, formerly so beautiful, seemed the ghost of herself. The hand of God had already touched her.

“I seated myself at her bedside. She extended to me her trembling, icy hand.

“I pressed it to my lips, my cold lips.

“We gave a last painful look at the past I accused myself of having destroyed her.

“We spoke of our unfortunate child. We wept, oh, how bitterly! when suddenly—

“Ah! I feel still the cold sweat deluge my brow. My hair stands on end, and a terrible voice cries to me, ‘Murderer! Murderer!’

“Oh, I will not seek to fly from remorse; till my last day I shall keep before me the image of my victim.

“By the judgment of God, which has already condemned me, I take oath to do it.

“Let me recall the scene.

“It was a terrible moment.

“The chamber of Emilie was dimly lighted by a night-lamp placed near the door.

“My back was toward this door. I was seated by her bed. She could not retain her sobs. My forehead was resting on my hand.

“The most profound silence reigned around us.

“I had just spoken to her of our child. I had just promised to fulfil her will in reference to him.

“I had tried to console her, to induce her to hope for better days, to reanimate her courage, to give her strength to conceal all from her husband; to prove to her that, for his own peace and happiness, it was better to let him remain in confident security.

“Suddenly the door behind me opened with violence.

“Emilie cried in terror: ‘My husband! I am dead!’

“Before I could turn around, an involuntary movement of her husband extinguished the lamp.

“We were all three in the dark.

“‘Do not kill me before forgiving me!’ cried Emilie.

“‘Oh—you first—him afterwards,’ said Count de Montreuil, in a hollow voice.

“The moment was horrible.

“He advanced irresolutely. I advanced also.

“I wished to meet him and hold him back.

“We said nothing. The silence was profound.

“Nothing was heard but the sound of our oppressed breathing, and the low, spasmodic voice of Emilie, who murmured: ‘Lord have pity on me! Lord have pity on me!’

“Suddenly I felt a hand as cold as marble on my forehead.

“It was the hand of her husband. In seeking her, he had touched me.

“He started, and said, without concerning himself further about me: ‘Her bed ought to be on the left!’

“His calmness terrified me. I threw myself on him.

“At that moment, Emilie, whom he had doubtless already seized, cried, ‘Mercy! Mercy!’

“I tried to take him by the middle of his body. I felt the point of a dagger graze my hand.

“Emilie uttered a long sigh. She was killed or wounded, her blood spouted up on my forehead.

“Then my brain became wild; I felt myself endowed with a supernatural strength. With my left hand I seized the right arm of the murderer; with my right hand I snatched his dagger from him, and plunged it twice in his breast.

“I heard him fall without uttering a cry. From that moment I remember nothing.

“I found myself at the rising of the sun lying by the side of a hedge. I was covered with blood.

“For some moments I could remember nothing, then all returned to my memory. I returned home, avoiding the sight of every one.

“I discovered, as I entered, that my Maltese cross was lost. Perhaps it had been taken away from me in the struggle.

“I found Peyrou, who was waiting for me with my horses. I arrived here.”

[Some pages are wanting in this place.]

“... and she is no more.

“He lies by her side in the same tomb. The idea of murder pursues me. I am doubly criminal.

“My entire life will not suffice to expiate this murder, and...”

The rest of this page was wanting.

The last letter which the casket contained was a letter addressed to Peyrou by a bargemaster in the neighbourhood of Aiguemortes five years after the events which we have just recorded, and the same year, no doubt, of the abduction of Erebus by the pirates on the coast of Languedoc.

Peyrou, who was then serving on board the galleys of religion with the commander, was in the secret of this strange and bloody tragedy.

The following letter was addressed to Malta, to which place he had followed the commander, who, five years after these fatal events had transpired, was still unwilling to enter France.

To M. Bernard Peyrou, Overseer-Patron of Our Lady of ............