Part 16

"Oh! yes, indeed! Our reason for returning so soon was that you might enjoy it the sooner. But first of all take your child on your knees, and kiss her; the dear little angel--it is she who is the cause--it is she who---- Mon Dieu! I am so glad--so glad, that I can't speak--it suffocates me!"

Bathilde took the child on her knees; Blanche put her little arms about her mother's neck and returned her kisses, lisping:

"The gentleman--he kiss Blanche again; he said--I am pretty!"

"What does she say?" asked Bathilde, looking from Ambroisine to the nurse.

"She says," replied Ambroisine,--"what she says is true; yesterday there was a fine gentleman on the square; he saw Blanche playing; he thought her so pretty that he kissed her, and then he asked Marie the dear child's name, and then her mother's; and when she told him, he kissed Blanche once more; and that same gentleman came to-day again and sat on the same bench; and I am perfectly sure that it was to see Blanche again!"

"When mademoiselle saw him this morning," said the nurse, "she recognized him at once, and began to run toward him."

"But this gentleman--who was he, pray?" asked Bathilde, in a trembling voice.

"Do you not guess, Bathilde, do you not guess?"

"O mon Dieu! tell me!"

"He was the Comte de Marvejols--your husband."

"He! Is it possible?"

Bathilde turned pale; for a moment she was overcome; but joy rarely does any harm, and the young mother covered her daughter with kisses once more, crying:

"He kissed you, little darling, he kissed you! Why, that gentleman was your father--your father for whom I have taught you to pray to God every night, to preserve his life and bring him back to us. Ah! God has heard your prayers.--Now, Marie, Ambroisine, tell me all that happened, all, both yesterday and to-day. Do not forget anything, do not omit the most trivial detail; I shall be so happy listening to you."

The maid described minutely the meeting of the preceding day.

"And you told me nothing of this yesterday, Marie!"

"Bless me! I could not imagine that it would interest you so deeply! I was so far from suspecting that that handsome gentleman was monsieur le comte; and if I must mention everybody who admires mademoiselle when I take her out to walk, and everybody who exclaims at her beauty and caresses her, I should never stop!"

"Well--and to-day, Marie!"

The nurse told what had happened previous to the arrival of Ambroisine, who completed the story from that point.

"And he went away like that--hurriedly?" said Bathilde.

"Mon Dieu! yes; I am very sorry that I showed myself; but when I saw him holding his daughter in his arms, could I be expected to control my surprise?"

"He held her in his arms?"

"To be sure."

"And he kissed her?"

"Oh! several times."

"And you are sure, Marie, that he knew that Blanche was the daughter of the Comtesse de Marvejols?"

"Pardine! I told the gentleman so yesterday, madame; and it was he himself who asked me the question."

"He knew that she was his daughter, Ambroisine, and he took her in his arms, and put his lips to her forehead! Oh! I cannot believe yet in such good fortune! Why, in that case, he must love darling Blanche!"

"Does that surprise you? Is it possible to see the child without loving her? Moreover, as he came again to-day and sat in the same place as yesterday, don't you see that it must have been a desire to see his daughter that brought him there again?"

"Oh! if that were true, if it were possible! But if he wishes to see his daughter, does he not know that the doors of this house will fly open before him any day, at any hour? And if it is my presence that offends him, if it is I whom he does not wish to meet, why, I will be careful to avoid his glances, I will conceal myself in the most distant part of the house, and I will stay hidden there so long as he remains. But let him come to see his daughter! let him lavish his caresses on her without fear. I shall be only too happy, and I will not complain."

"Of course, monsieur le comte did not know at first," said Ambroisine, "when Blanche attracted his attention, that it was his own daughter whom he was praising; when he learned that fact, he could not help being proud of her; and then the same feeling brought him back to the spot where he knew that she ordinarily came to run about and play. But it is a long way from that to coming to this house."

"Oh! no matter; to-morrow Blanche will go out with her nurse at the same time; my daughter will go for her walk in the same direction, to the same benches as to-day; perhaps he will come again to see her; and I will go there with you, Ambroisine. I am strong enough to go out; at all events, you will lend me your arm, and we will keep out of sight, a long way off; but not so far that we cannot see whether the darling girl's father caresses her again."

Everything was done the next day as Bathilde had planned. Blanche went out with her nurse as the clock struck twelve; some distance behind, two women walked arm in arm, following with their eyes every step, every movement of the child.

But the bench on which they had found Léodgard two days in succession was unoccupied; and more than once the little girl, after running in that direction, returned to her nurse and said in her childish lisp, and in an almost mournful tone:

"The gentleman not there, nurse; where is the gentleman?"

For Blanche had already come to look upon it as a pleasant custom to be kissed and caressed by Léodgard. Children learn to love very quickly! A person attracts them instantly or never; as they have not become reasoning persons, they follow their first impulse.

That day had not the result for which they hoped. Léodgard did not appear at the bench, or in any other part of Place Royale, where Bathilde's and Ambroisine's eyes would not have failed to discover him.

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 passed thus, and they were forced to conclude that Léodgard, 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 Léodgard 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 passed almost every evening at the Hôtel 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 hôtel 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 shine on this unfortunate man--yes, it is he! it is surely he!"

"Who, in God's name?"

"Léodgard!"

"The count--is it possible!--Great God! 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 hôtel 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 Hôtel 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 Léodgard, 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 Léodgard, who was forthwith transported to the Hôtel 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!"

Jarnonville's orders were executed with zeal. Ambroisine installed herself by the wounded man's bedside, having sent a servant to inform her father that she should pass the night at the Hôtel de Marvejols.

Luckily, the hôtel was an immense place, and the young countess's apartment was in a different wing from that to which her husband had been taken. So that Bathilde slept in peace beside her daughter, having no suspicion that the constant object of her thoughts was so near her at that moment.

The surgeon summoned by the servant carefully examined the deep wound in Léodgard's breast. One and all waited anxiously to hear what he would say, what judgment he would pronounce.

But the man of science simply shook his head in a far from encouraging fashion, and said:

"This is a very serious wound, and the loss of blood has been considerable. If monsieur le comte recovers, he will be very fortunate. However, if the sword did not reach any of the vital organs, it is possible that he may be cured. For the moment, it is impossible to say. When the patient recovers consciousness, be careful, above all things, not to let him talk; avoid everything that is likely to cause him the slightest excitement."

The surgeon took his leave after giving the necessary directions, saying that he would return at daybreak.

Jarnonville and Ambroisine passed the night beside the wounded man.

"Mon Dieu! if she suspected that he was here!" murmured the girl, glancing at the chevalier.

"She would be unable to resist the desire to come to see him; she would insist upon attending to his wants; and you heard what the surgeon said--that the slightest excitement might be fatal to him. Do you think that he would not be excited, if, on opening his eyes, he should see his wife by his side?"

"You are right, chevalier; but if fate has willed that monsieur le comte is to die of this wound, if to-morrow he should have ceased to live! Do you think that Bathilde would ever forgive us for concealing from her the fact that her husband is here--dying--so near her; and for depriving her of the melancholy pleasure of closing his eyes?"

"I know not what to say; follow the dictates of your heart. You love the countess too dearly not to divine which is likely to cause her the less pain,--to remain in ignorance of her husband's danger, or to share our anxiety concerning his fate."

Ambroisine hesitated, but she decided at last to wait until daybreak and the surgeon's return.

Toward the middle of the night, Léodgard partly opened his eyes; but his vague, uncertain glance could not endure the dim light in the room; he soon dropped his eyelids, having recognized none of his surroundings.

At dawn, the surgeon returned to his patient; after examining him carefully, feeling his pulse, and listening a long while to his respiration, he made a motion with his head, more encouraging than the earlier one, and said:

"I have a little hope; but I cannot say anything definite until I have removed the dressing of the wound, and I must not do that until evening. Until then, the same directions, the same precautions; give him this phial to inhale from, if he should lose consciousness; but, above all things, absolute silence."

When the surgeon had gone, Ambroisine, having made up her mind what to do, went to her friend's room.

It was only seven o'clock in the morning; Bathilde was still asleep, with her face turned toward her daughter's cradle, so that when she woke her first glance was for her child.

Ambroisine walked into the room very softly, in order to make no noise. The faithful Marie, who was already in the adjoining room, allowed her mistress's young friend to pass without remonstrance; for the countess had once told her that Ambroisine was at liberty to enter her apartment at all times and seasons.

The young mother and her child were both sleeping peacefully.

"They are enjoying sweet repose," said Ambroisine to herself, as she gazed at them. "Poor Bathilde! you have earned it by all the torments and suffering you have endured!--Would it not be a crime to disturb it? The man who is yonder is most unjust to you! does he deserve that you should shed more tears for him?--Ah, no! it seems to me that he does not deserve it.--But she still loves him, he is this little angel's father; and then, too, he has held Blanche to his heart! For that reason, we must forgive him."

And Ambroisine laid her hand gently on Bathilde's arm. Her light sleep was disturbed by the slightest touch. When she saw her friend standing by her side, the young mother apprehended some calamity and instantly turned her eyes toward her daughter; but the child was sleeping quietly, and her pink and white cheeks were altogether reassuring as to her health.

"What is the matter, in heaven's name," asked Bathilde, half rising, "that you are here so early, dear Ambroisine? You must have something of great importance to tell me?"

"I have not left the house since yesterday; that is to say, I left it for a moment, but returned at once and passed the night here."

"Speak, Ambroisine, explain yourself; one would say that you dared not.--Oh! I will be brave enough, if necessary. Besides, my daughter is with me; and when I fear nothing for her, I am very strong, I assure you!"

Thereupon Ambroisine told her friend of the events of the previous night, taking pains, however, not to make the count's wound appear so serious as the surgeon had declared it to be.

But Bathilde did not give her time to finish her story; she had already risen and was dressing in great haste, saying, in a voice broken by the emotion that choked her utterance:

"He is here, mon Dieu! here--so near me--since last night--and I was not told! And you left me in ignorance of his suffering!--Oh! that was wrong--very wrong! is it not my duty to be with my husband when he needs care?"

"Our duty was to follow the orders of the surgeon; he said that the slightest excitement would be fatal to monsieur le comte."

"Mon Dieu! then he is very ill!"

"Remember that he does not know as yet where he has been taken; and if he sees you by his side, if he recognizes you, do you think that it will not excite him?"

"Very well! I will hide myself, I will keep out of sight, he shall not see me!--But I shall see him, I shall know what his condition is, and I shall be able to add my care to that which you give him.--Come, Ambroisine, come!"

But before leaving the room Bathilde stopped to press her lips to her daughter's brow; then, after bidding the faithful Marie to stay with Blanche, she hurried to her husband's apartment.

Léodgard was still in the same condition; the ghastly pallor of his face and his closed eyes gave him the aspect of a dead man; but a faint breath that came from his lips proved that life had not abandoned him.

Bathilde gazed long at the sad spectacle, then fell on her knees beside the bed, and implored heaven to preserve Léodgard's life.

XLVIII

THE SWEETEST LOVE

For twenty days, Léodgard hovered between life and death; a horrible delirium succeeded the prostration which immediately followed his wound; but during that time the most touchingly devoted care was lavished on him.

Bathilde, Ambroisine, and the Sire de Jarnonville were almost constantly at the patient's bedside; at first the young wife passed whole nights in attendance on her husband; in order to induce her to be more reasonable, to force her to take some rest, it was necessary to tell her that her child was asking for her, that she refused to go to sleep unless her mother was with her.

During those long nights, when the violence of the count's fever often caused him to talk aloud in his dreams, or rather in his delirium, his watchers had observed with amazement that the same person was constantly in his thoughts, that he was almost invariably tormented by the same memories; in short, that his lips many and many a time uttered a certain name; and that name was Giovanni.

"Did you hear him?" Bathilde would ask her friend; "it is most extraordinary that Léodgard, in his delirium, is always thinking of that famous robber. One would say that he was afraid of the man--that he was fighting with him!"

"Yes; only yesterday I heard monsieur le comte cry out: 'Avaunt, wretched man! do not pursue me so!'--And a moment later, he said: 'But, no, it is not he, it is I whom they mean to arrest! They have recognized me! I am Giovanni, I! the other is dead!'"

"Poor love! what ghastly delirium!--Oh! when will he be calmer and recover his reason?"

And one evening, Bathilde said to the Sire de Jarnonville, who seemed lost in thought as he listened to the sick man's wanderings:

"Chevalier, as my husband is always thinking of this Giovanni, do not you believe that, instead of having fought a duel, as you thought at first, he was attacked by that terrible robber and received this dangerous wound from him?"

"I haven't the least doubt about it, myself," said Ambroisine; "monsieur le comte has that last encounter ever present in his mind, and so in his delirium he believes he still sees this Giovanni."

Jarnonville seemed to reflect before he replied; at last he said to the friends:

"Your conjectures may be well founded; yes, it may well be that, instead of a duel, the count was the victim of an ambuscade."

"Besides, you have made inquiries, chevalier, have you not? you have seen a number of gentlemen who are friends of Léodgard, and no one of them knows of his having fought a duel?"

"No, madame; nor has anyone heard even of a possible quarrel. But, in truth, since the cardinal issued such a severe edict against duellists, there is little inclination to boast of such affairs; on the contrary, whoever has one on hand tries to keep it entirely secret. For that reason, whatever the cause of the count's wound, it is prudent to attribute it to a nocturnal attack."

"Especially as it is probably the truth; otherwise, would my husband think so constantly of that Giovanni?"

On the twenty-first day, the surgeon, having paid an early visit to his patient, because he expected a crisis which would be decisive of his fate, sent the ladies away, allowing no one to remain with him save the Sire de Jarnonville; then he waited to see what Providence rather than his skill would do for the count.

He had been in a violent fever since the night before, but the delirium had ceased. Toward morning the fever subsided and was ere long succeeded by a peaceful sleep.

Then the surgeon went to Bathilde, who was in an adjoining room, on her knees, with her daughter kneeling beside her. Both were praying; and they were such pure and spotless creatures that their prayers were granted.

"Saved! I will answer for him now!" said the surgeon, as he approached the countess.

She seized the doctor's hands, pressed them to her heart, and would have kissed them if he had not prevented her.--Is not he who restores to us a person whom we love a god in our eyes? and do we not always feel that words are powerless to express our gratitude?

"But," continued the surgeon, "the greatest caution is necessary still--no great excitement! The convalescence will be long--very long. In order to heal perfectly, the wound needs prolonged rest; but, unless something unforeseen happens, I repeat--monsieur le comte is saved.--When he wakes, he will feel better, and he will question you, no doubt. Urge him to think of nothing but getting well, and tell him that I have forbidden you to allow him to talk."

Then, having written a new prescription, the doctor went away, carrying with him the benedictions of those whom he had made happy.

"When he wakes," said Jarnonville, "the count will recognize this apartment, as it is the one he occupied when he lived with his father."

"After all," said Ambroisine, "he must know it at some time. Where could he be taken better care of than in his own house, with his wife and child?"

"Oh! do not mention his wife to him!" cried Bathilde; "that might make him angry, and you know what the doctor ordered!"

"Will you trust me?" said the chevalier; "I am sure that I can arrange matters so that your husband will have an agreeable awakening, attended by pleasant sensations.--Pray, madame, intrust your daughter to me."

"Blanche!"

"Yes; the sight of that little angel cannot fail to produce a happy result."

"But he knows that she is his daughter."

"And that knowledge did not prevent him from embracing her!"

"But he fled when he noticed that someone saw him kissing his child!"

"He has just escaped death; and that circumstance sometimes induces salutary reflections--when one has seen the grave so near at hand!"

"Well! I place myself in your hands, chevalier; take my dear Blanche--I will remain here, and unless the count asks for me I will not venture to show myself to him; but I shall be happy once more, if, from this room, I hear my husband kiss his child."

Jarnonville took little Blanche by the hand, after she had been told not to make any noise; she seemed already to understand that she was to have a share in the cure of the gentleman who was lying there, although Bathilde had not dared to tell her to call him _father_.