He only remembered that he had four minutes in which to make up his mind.

The events of the last thirty minutes had pressed upon each other's heels with such surprising alacrity that he could hardly believe that they had really occurred, and it seemed to him as if it might not, after all, be only a hideous vision of the night.
"You have only two minutes more," remarked the Duke.
Croisenois started; his soul was far away from the terrible present.

He glanced at the clock, then at his enemy, and lastly at Marie, who lay upon the couch, and from her ashen complexion might have been regarded as dead, save for the hysterical sobs which convulsed her frame.

He felt that it was impossible to leave her in such a condition without aid of any kind, but he saw well that any show of pity on his part would only aggravate his offence.

"Heaven have mercy on us!" muttered he.