Part 32 (1/2)
The rumbling of a carriage was heard far away on the street, it drew nearer and nearer, rolled in through the gate of the house, and was silent. Miss Mary, all in white, her hair hanging over her shoulders, hastened to Darvid's study, through drawing-rooms in which, from behind black veils which the pale dawn was removing, emerged gla.s.s, metal, pictures, mirrors, plush, silk, polished surfaces, gildings, mosaics, marbles, porcelain, in the dull gleam of their colors.
The dawn was in Darvid's study also; but the servant was lighting the hanging-lamp over the round table. Darvid, very pale, with a nervous movement, tore rather than drew the gloves from his hands.
”Then did she return from me? Where did she come from? You say that she was with me, and returned--in that condition? But she was not here yesterday; I did not see her; she was not here--”
”She was,” answered Miss Mary; ”she said that she was going to you; she did not return for more than an hour.”
”She might have been with her mother?”
”No; I asked her sister about that. She was not with her mother; she was here.”
Darvid was astonished; he thought a while, and called suddenly:
”Ah!”
There was something tragic in the gesture with which he indicated the thick case full of books, forming with the two walls a little triangular s.p.a.ce; then in the manner in which he intertwined his fingers:
”She was there! And--she heard! Ah!”
He stood for a moment as if rooted to the floor; he bit his lip; there were quivers on his cheeks and wrinkles on his forehead; then he approached Miss Mary, and asked in such a low voice that she barely heard him:
”Did she do this purposely--purposely? Purposely?”
”With clasped hands she said in a very low voice:
”I cannot hide--maybe something will depend on this--she did it purposely.”
Then that man, usually calm and regular in all his movements, rushed to the door of the antechamber with the spring of a tiger.
”Carriage!” cried he.
”When the most famous doctor in the city came out of the sick girl's chamber that day for the second time, Darvid met him in the blue drawing-room, alone. He was as usual self-possessed, and with a pleasing smile in the presence of that man with a great name.
”Is the disease defined?” asked he.
It was defined, and very serious. Inflammation had seized the greater part of the lungs, and was working fiercely on an organism weakened by a previous attack. Besides, some kind of complication had supervened, something coming from the brain, from the nerves, something psychic.
Darvid mentioned a consultation.
”We may summon from abroad--from Paris, from Vienna; we have telegraphs and railroads at our service--as to expense--”
concluded he with indifference ”--as to expense, I shall not spare it. My whole fortune is at the disposal of--”
He fixed in the eyes of the doctor a look in which was the desire for a silent understanding.
”This is no hyperbole, or figure of rhetoric. I am ready to summon half medical Europe, and spend half my fortune.”
There was a quiver on his temples, around his mouth, and near his eyes, but he smiled. The doctor smiled also.
”My dear sir,” said he, ”the case is not so peculiar as to need presentation before the judgment of Europe. But being in Europe--yes. I will serve you at once with the names of my foreign colleagues. But as to colossal money sacrifices, I must say that they will not help. Death, my dear sir, is such a giantess, that if she is to come, mountains of gold will not stop her. I will not say that she must come surely in this case. But if she is to come, half your fortune--that is, golden mountains--yes, golden mountains will be no hindrance to her. She will spring over them and--come.”
After the doctor had gone, Darvid remained alone for a while, and, with his eyes fixed on the floor, he thought: