The face of his victim looked greenish and distorted, just as he had seen it on the slab at the Morgue.

He remained glued to the carpet, fainting, leaning against a piece of furniture for support.

At a hollow rattle in his throat, Therese raised her head.
"There, there!" exclaimed Laurent in a terrified tone.
With extended arm, he pointed to the dark corner where he perceived the sinister face of Camille.

Therese, infected by his terror, went and pressed against him.
"It is his portrait," she murmured in an undertone, as if the face of her late husband could hear her.
"His portrait ?" repeated Laurent, whose hair stood on end.
"Yes, you know, the painting you did," she replied.

"My aunt was to have removed it to her room.