She pushed him gently on the chest. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. Melusine did not attempt to speak. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Was it ruined?’ ‘But yes, it was entirely ruined. Instantly seizing it, the young man placed it in the carriage, shut the door, and commanded his servants to drive off. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. He was picked up from amongst the wreckage of a broken motor on the road to Versailles last night, and we have information that a lady was with him only a few minutes before the accident occurred.
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