Volume Ii Part 43 (1/2)

On the following day they repeated the same manoeuvre, with no better success. And Blanche, as she returned to the house with her mother, who sighed profoundly, seemed to share her sadness.

”Mamma, he did not come--the gentleman!” she said.

Several days pa.s.sed thus, and they were forced to conclude that Leodgard, angry at having been surprised by Ambroisine when he was kissing his daughter, had preferred not to return to Place Royale, for fear of other disagreeable encounters.

The Sire de Jarnonville, the loyal friend of the countess and of Ambroisine, who loved Blanche with all the fervent paternal love that heaven had left in the depths of his heart, was speedily informed of what had happened on Place Royale. He was more touched than surprised; it seemed to him so natural that one should be drawn to Blanche at first sight.

”I knew that he needed only to see her to love her!” cried Jarnonville, letting his eyes rest on Blanche. ”He refused to listen to me or to believe me, one day when I spoke to him of his daughter; but Providence, more powerful than his will, has brought him and the child together.

Henceforth, madame, be of good cheer; it is impossible that your child should not bring her father back to you.”

With such words did Jarnonville comfort Bathilde when she sighed because Leodgard had not appeared again on the bench where his daughter had twice met him. Ambroisine united her efforts with the chevalier's to encourage her friend. Bathilde, Ambroisine, and the chevalier pa.s.sed almost every evening at the Hotel de Marvejols, beside Blanche's cradle, spending in pleasant converse the long autumn evenings, talking almost constantly of him who refused to accept the pure happiness offered him by his own fireside, his wife, and his child.

It was after such a conversation, prolonged to a later hour than usual, that Ambroisine left the hotel with Jarnonville, who always escorted her to Master Hugonnet's door. On this particular evening it was very dark, and the fine rain that was falling was icy cold, so that even when the chevalier and his companion were still protected by the arcades of the square he said to her more than once:

”Wrap yourself tightly in your cloak, mademoiselle, for it is raining and it is quite cold.”

Then, with an almost involuntary movement, the chevalier pressed closer to his side the arm that the lovely girl had slipped through his.

They had reached the end of the arcade, when a horrible spectacle arrested their steps: a man lay flat on the ground; his cloak and his sword were at some little distance, and it was so dark that they could not see the pool of blood in which his body lay.

”Mon Dieu! what is that?” exclaimed Ambroisine, stopping abruptly; ”I believe that it is a man there--lying on the ground.”

”Yes, you are right; perhaps he is asleep; perhaps he is drunk.--Wait, while I ascertain.”

Jarnonville released Ambroisine's arm, walked nearer to the body that lay there absolutely inert, and stooped over it. In a moment he cried out:

”Ah! the poor fellow is bathed in his own blood!”

”See that sword yonder--perhaps there has been a duel.”

”If I could raise his head; but his hair has fallen over his face and conceals it.--Mon Dieu! is this a delusion?”

”What is it, chevalier?”

”For heaven's sake, stand aside a little, so that the light may s.h.i.+ne on this unfortunate man--yes, it is he! it is surely he!”

”Who, in G.o.d's name?”

”Leodgard!”

”The count--is it possible!--Great G.o.d! is he dead?”

”Wait--wait!--No, it seems to me that I feel a faint movement of the heart.”

”I will run at once to the hotel for help; don't leave him, chevalier.”

Ambroisine was no longer afraid, she forgot the cold and the darkness alike. Running along the dark arcade, she soon reached the Hotel de Marvejols; and having enjoined upon the concierge to conceal from the countess all knowledge of what was going on, she took two servants with her and hurried back at full speed to Jarnonville, who was on his knees beside Leodgard, having raised his head, which he was supporting against his breast. But the wounded man had not recovered consciousness; he was still in the same condition.

With the aid of the two servants, the chevalier raised Leodgard, who was forthwith transported to the Hotel de Marvejols. The count had his own suite there, which he had not occupied for many months, but which was always ready for his occupancy, none the less.

”It is your master,” said the chevalier to the servants, whom curiosity had drawn to the gateway; ”it is Monsieur le Comte de Marvejols, whom we found in this condition a few steps from here. Let one of you run with all speed to fetch a physician or a surgeon. But, above all things, absolute secrecy; do not let this accident reach madame la comtesse's ears to-night; before we tell her that her husband is under her roof, we must know if there is any hope of restoring him to life!”