Chapter 25 - Page 2

church. Will you come with me?"

He was religious, and his wife, with loving watchfulness,
remained with him as much as possible.

He replied: "Presently!" and went into the next room,
which was his son's bedroom.

A few minutes elapsed. Suddenly Mme. Antonin
Moyne heard a noise similar to that made by the slamming
of a front door. But she knew what it was. She started
and cried: "It is that dreadful pistol!"

She rushed into the room her husband had entered, then
recoiled in horror. She had seen a body stretched upon
the floor.

She ran wildly about the house screaming for help. But
no one came, either because everybody was out or because
owing to the noise in the street she was not heard.

Then she returned, re-entered the room and knelt beside
her husband. The shot had blown nearly all his head away.
The blood streamed upon the floor, and the walls and
furniture were spattered with brains.

Thus, marked by fatality, like Jean Goujon, his master,
died Antonin Moyne, a name which henceforward will
bring to mind two things--a horrible death and a charming
talent.