"The aqua tofana does its work like a charm!" muttered she. "That
vial was compounded by Beatrice Spara, and is worthy of her skill
and more sure than her stiletto! I was frantic to use that weapon,
for no purpose than to redden my hands with the work of a low
bravo!"
A few drops of blood were on the hand of La Corriveau. She wiped
them impatiently upon the garment of Caroline, where it left the
impress of her fingers upon the snowy muslin. No pity for her
pallid victim, who lay with open eyes looking dumbly upon her, no
remorse for her act touched the stony heart of La Corriveau.
The clock of the Chateau struck one. The solitary stroke of the
bell reverberated like an accusing voice through the house, but
failed to awaken one sleeper to a discovery of the black tragedy
that had just taken place under its roof.
That sound had often struck sadly upon the ear of Caroline, as she
prolonged her vigil of prayer through the still watches of the
night. Her ear was dull enough now to all earthly sound! But the
toll of the bell reached the ear of La Corriveau, rousing her to the
need of immediately effecting her escape, now that her task was
done.
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