Either purposely or by accident, he pushed the door-curtain, which
made a slight noise.
Laurence thought the door was being opened, that the detective was
returning, and that Hector would fall alive into their hands.
"Miserable coward!" she cried, pointing her pistol at him, "shoot,
or else--"
He hesitated; there was another rustle at the door; she fired.
Tremorel fell dead.
Laurence, with a rapid movement, took up the other pistol, and was
turning it against herself, when M. Lecoq sprung upon her and tore
the weapon from her grasp.
"Unhappy girl!" cried he, "what would you do?"
"Die. Can I live now?"
"Yes, you can live," responded M. Lecoq. "And more, you ought to
live."
"I am a lost woman--"
"No, you are a poor child lured away by a wretch. You say you are
very guilty; perhaps so; live to repent of it. Great sorrows like
yours have their missions in this world, one of devotion and
charity. Live, and the good you do will attach you once more to
life. You have yielded to the deceitful promises of a villain
remember, when you are rich, that there are poor innocent girls
forced to lead a life of miserable shame for a morsel of bread.
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