As soon as one of them accused the other of having killed this man, there came a frightful shock.
One night, at dinner, Laurent who sought a pretext for becoming irritable, found that the water in the decanter was lukewarm.

He declared that tepid water made him feel sick, and that he wanted it fresh.
"I was unable to procure any ice," Therese answered dryly.
"Very well, I will deprive myself of drinking," retorted Laurent.
"This water is excellent," said she.
"It is warm, and has a muddy taste," he answered.

"It's like water from the river." "Water from the river ?" repeated Therese.
And she burst out sobbing.

A juncture of ideas had just occurred in her mind.
"Why do you cry ?" asked Laurent, who foresaw the answer, and turned pale.
"I cry," sobbed the young woman, "I cry because--you know why--Oh! Great God! Great God! It was you who killed him." "You lie!" shouted the murderer vehemently, "confess that you lie.

If I threw him into the Seine, it was you who urged me to commit the murder." "I! I!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, you! Don't act the ignorant," he replied, "don't compel me to force you to tell the truth.