But what tried his patience beyond measure was
the comparison that the widow of the drowned man never failed to draw
between her first and second husband, and which was all to the advantage
of the former.
"Well! Yes," she cried, "he was better than you. I would sooner he were
alive now, and you in his place underground."
Laurent first of all shrugged his shoulders.
"Say what you will," she continued, becoming animated, "although I
perhaps failed to love him in his lifetime, yet I remember all his good
qualities now, and do love him. Yes, I love him and hate you, do you
hear? For you are an assassin."
"Will you hold your tongue?" yelled Laurent.
"And he is a victim," she went on, notwithstanding the threatening
attitude of her husband, "an upright man killed by a rascal. Oh! I am
not afraid of you. You know well enough that you are a miserable wretch,
a brute of a man without a heart, and without a soul. How can you expect
me to love you, now that you are reeking with the blood of Camille?
Camille was full of tenderness for me, and I would kill you, do you
hear, if that could bring him to life again, and give me back his love."
"Will you hold your tongue, you wretch?" shouted Laurent.
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