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           HDM户型优化训练营6期

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 HDM户型优化训练营6期

Suddenly she heard a whistle. The woman was summoning assistance. And almost at the same time, in the passage, at some distance from the woman, there was a cry:

"Mother! Mother!"

Ah, with what deep emotion Véronique heard that cry! Her son, her real son was calling to her, her son, still a captive but alive! Oh, the superhuman delight of it!

"I'm here, darling!"

"Quick, mother! I'm tied up; and the whistle is their signal . . . they'll be coming."

"I'm here . . . . I shall save you before they come!"

She had no doubt of the result. It seemed to her as though her strength knew no limits and as though nothing could resist the exasperated tension of her whole being.

Her adversary was in fact weakening and giving ground by inches. The opening became wider; and suddenly the contest was over. Véronique walked through.

The woman had already fled down the passage and was dragging the boy by a rope in order to make him walk despite the cords with which he was bound. It was a vain attempt and she abandoned it forthwith. Véronique was close to her, with her revolver in her hand.

The woman let go the boy and stood up in the light from the open cells. She was dressed in white serge, with a knotted girdle round her waist. Her arms were half bare. Her face was still young, but faded, thin and wrinkled. Her hair was fair, interspersed with strands of white. Her eyes gleamed with a feverish hatred.

The two women looked at each other without a word, like two adversaries who have met before and are about to fight again. Véronique almost smiled, with a smile of mingled triumph and defiance. In the end she said:

"If you dare to lay a finger on my child, I'll kill you. Go! Be off!"

The woman was not frightened. She seemed to be reflecting and to be listening in the expectation of assistance. None come. Then she lowered her eyes to François and made a movement as though to seize upon her prey again.

"Don't touch him!" Véronique exclaimed, violently. "Don't touch him, or I fire!"

The woman shrugged her shoulders and said, in measured accents:

"No threats, please! If I had wanted to kill that child of yours, I should have done so by now. But his hour has not come; and it is not by my hand that he is to die."

Véronique, trembling all over, could not help asking:

"By whose hand is he to die?"

"By my son's: you know . . . the one you've seen."

"Is he your son, the murderer, the monster?"

"He's the son of . . ."

"Silence! Silence!" Véronique commanded. She understood that the woman had been Vorski's mistress and feared that she would make some disclosure in François' presence. "Silence: that name is not to be spoken."

"It will be when it has to be," said the woman. "Ah, I've suffered enough through you, Véronique: it's your turn now; and you're only at the beginning of it!"

"Go!" cried Véronique, pointing her revolver.

"Once more, no threats, please."