20Mad with his terrible forebodings, Andre hurried through the streetsin the direction of the Hotel de Mussidan, caring little for theattention that his excited looks and gestures caused. He had no fixedplan as to what to do when he arrived there, and it was only onreaching the Rue de Matignon that he recovered sufficient coolness todeliberate and reflect.
He had arrived at the desired spot; how should he set to work toobtain the information that he required? The evening was a dark one,and the gas-lamps showed a feeble light through the dull February fog.
There were no signs of life in the Rue de Matignon, and the silencewas only broken by the continuous surge of carriage wheels in theFaubourg Saint Honore. This gloom, and the inclemency of the weather,added to the young painter's depression. He saw his utterhelplessness, and felt that he could not move a step withoutcompromising the woman he so madly adored. He walked to the gate ofthe house, hoping to gain some information even from the exterioraspect of the house; for it seemed to him that if Sabine were dying,the very stones in the street would utter sounds of woe andlamentation; but the fog had closely enwrapped the house, and he couldhardly see which of the windows were lighted. His reasoning facultiestold him that there was no use in waiting, but an inner voice warnedhim to stay. Would Modeste, who had written to him, divine, by somemeans that he was there, in an agony of suspense, and come out to givehim information and solace? All at once a thought darted across hismind, vivid as a flash of lightning.
"M. de Breulh will help me," cried he; "for though I cannot go to thehouse, he will have no difficulty in doing so."By good luck, he had M. de Breulh's card in his pocket, and hurriedoff to his address. M. de Breulh had a fine house in the Avenue del'Imperatrice, which he had taken more for the commodiousness of thestables than for his own convenience.
"I wish to see M. de Breulh," said Andre, as he stopped breathless atthe door, where a couple of footmen were chatting.
The men looked at him with supreme contempt. "He is out," one of themat last condescended to reply.
Andre had by this time recovered his coolness, and taking out DeBreulh's card, wrote these words on it in pencil: "One moment'sinterview. ANDRE.""Give this to your master as soon as he comes in," said he.
Then he descended the steps slowly. He was certain that M. de Breulhwas in the house, and that he would send out after the person who hadleft the card almost at once. His conclusion proved right; in fiveminutes he was overtaken by the panting lackey, who, conducting himback to the house, showed him into a magnificently furnished library.
De Breulh feared that some terrible event had taken place.
"What has happened?" said he.
"Sabine is dying;" and Andre at once proceeded to inform De Breulh ofwhat had happened since his departure.
"But how can I help you?""You can go and make inquiries at the house.""Reflect; yesterday I wrote to the Count, and broke off a marriage,the preliminaries of which had been completely settled; and withintwenty-four hours to send and inquire after his daughter's healthwould be to be guilty of an act of inexcusable insolence; for it wouldlook as if I fancied that Mademoiselle de Mussidan had been struckdown by my rupture of the engagement.""You are right," murmured Andre dejectedly.
"But," continued De Breulh, after a moment's reflection, "I have adistant relative, a lady who is also a connection of the Mussidanfamily, the Viscountess de Bois Arden, and she will be glad to be ofservice to me. She is young and giddy, but as true as steel. Come withme to her; my carriage is ready."The footman were surprised at seeing their master on such terms ofintimacy with the shabbily dressed young man, but ventured, of course,on no remarks.
Not a word was exchanged during the brief drive to Madame de BoisArden's house.
"Wait for me," exclaimed De Breulh, springing from the vehicle as soonas it drew up; "I will be back directly."Madame de Bois Arden is justly called one of the handsomest women inParis. Very fair, with masses of black hair, and a complexion to whichart has united itself to the gifts of nature, she is a woman who hasbeen everywhere, knows everything, talks incessantly, and generallyvery well. She spends forty thousand francs per annum on dress. She isalways committing all sorts of imprudent acts, and scandal is everbusy with her name. Half a dozen of the opposite sex have been talkedof in connection with her, while in reality she is a true and faithfulwife, for, in spite of all her frivolity, she adores her husband, andis in great awe of him. Such was the character of the lady into whoseapartment M. de Breulh was introduced. Madame de Bois Arden wasengaged in admiring a very pretty fancy costume of the reign of LouisXV., one of Van Klopen's masterpieces, when M. de Breulh wasannounced, which she was going to wear, on her return from the opera,at a masquerade ball at the Austrian Ambassador's. Madame de BoisArden greeted her visitor with effusion, for they had beenacquaintances from childhood, and always addressed each other by theirChristian names.
"What, you here at this hour, Gontran!" said the lady. "Is it avision, or only a miracle?" But the smile died away upon her lips, asshe caught a glimpse of her visitor's pale and harassed face. "Isthere anything the matter?" asked she.
"Not yet," answered he, "but there may be, for I hear thatMademoiselle de Mussidan is dangerously ill.""Is she really? Poor Sabine! what is the matter with her?""I do not know; and I want you, Clotilde, to send one of your peopleto inquire into the truth of what we have heard."Madame de Bois Arden opened her eyes very wide.
"Are you joking?" said she. "Why do you not send yourself?""It is impossible for me to do so; and if you have any kindness ofheart, you do as I ask you; and I want you also to promise me not tosay a word of this to any one."Excited as she was by this mystery, Madame de Bois Arden did not askanother question.
"I will do exactly what you want," replied she, "and respect yoursecret. I would go at once, were it not that Bois Arden will never sitdown to dinner without me; but the moment we have finished I will go.""Thanks, a thousand times; and now I will go home and wait for newsfrom you.""Not at all,--you will remain here to dinner.""I must,--I have a friend waiting for me.""Do as you please, then," returned the Viscountess, laughing. "I willsend round a note this evening."De Breulh pressed her hand, and hurried down, and was met by Andre atthe door, for he had been unable to sit still in the carriage.
"Keep up your courage. Madame de Bois Arden had not heard ofMademoiselle Sabine's illness, and this looks as if it was not a veryserious matter. We shall have the real facts in three hours.""Three hours!" groaned Andre, "what a lapse of time!""It is rather long, I admit; but we will talk of her while we wait,for you must stay and dine with me."Andre yielded, for he had no longer the energy to contest anything.
The dinner was exquisite, but the two men were not in a condition ofmind to enjoy it, and scarcely consumed anything. Vainly did theyendeavor to speak on indifferent subjects, and when the coffee hadbeen served in the library, they relapsed into utter silence. As theclock struck ten, however, a knock was heard at the door, thenwhisperings, and the rustle of female attire, and lastly Madame deBois Arden burst upon them like a tornado.
"Here I am," cried she.
It was certainly rather a hazardous step to pay such a late visit to abachelor's house, but then the Viscountess de Bois Arden did exactlyas she pleased.
"I have come here, Gontran," exclaimed she, with extreme vehemence,"to tell you that I think your conduct is abominable andungentlemanly.""Clotilde!""Hold your tongue! you are a wretch! Ah! now I can see why you did notwish to write and inquire about poor Sabine. You well knew the effectthat your message would have on her."M. de Breulh smiled as he turned to Andre and said,--"You see that I was right in what I told you."This remark for the first time attracted Madame de Bois Arden'sattention to the fact that a stranger was present, and she trembledlest she had committed some grave indiscretion.
"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed she, with a start, "why, I thought thatwe were alone!""This gentleman has all my confidence," replied M. de Breulhseriously; and as he spoke he laid his hand upon Andre's shoulder.
"Permit me to introduce M. Andre to you, my dear Clotilde; he may notbe known to-day, but in a short time his reputation will be European."Andre bowed, but for once in her life the Viscountess feltembarrassed, for she was surprised at the extremely shabby attire ofthis confidential friend, and then there seemed something wanting tothe name.
"Then," resumed De Breulh, "Mademoiselle de Mussidan is really ill,and our information is correct.""She is.""Did you see her?""I did, Gontran; and had you seen her, your heart would have beenfilled with pity, and you would have repented your conduct toward her.
The poor girl did not even know me. She lay in her bed, whiter thanthe very sheets, cold and inanimate as a figure of marble. Her largeblack eyes were staring wildly, and the only sign of life sheexhibited was when the great tears coursed down her cheeks."Andre had determined to restrain every token of emotion in thepresence of the Viscountess, but her recital was too much for him.
"Ah!" said he, "she will die; I know it."There was such intense anguish in his tone that even the practisedwoman of the world was softened.
"I assure you, sir," said she, "that you go too far; there is nopresent danger; the doctors say it is catalepsy, which often attackspersons of a nervous temperament upon the receipt of a sudden mentalshock.""But what shock has she received?" asked Andre.
"No one told me," answered she after a short pause, "that Sabine'sillness was caused by the breaking off of her engagement; but, ofcourse, I supposed that it was.""That was not the reason, Clotilde; but you have told us nothing;pray, go on," interposed De Breulh.
The extreme calmness of her cousin, and a glance which she observedpassing between him and Andre, enlightened the Viscountess somewhat.
"I asked as much as I dared," she replied, "but I could only get thevaguest answers. Sabine looked as if she were dead, and her father andmother hovered around her couch like two spectres. Had they slain herwith their own hands, they could not have looked more guilty; theirfaces frightened me.""Tell me precisely what answers were given to your questions," brokein he impatiently.
"Sabine had seemed so agitated all day, that her mother asked her ifshe was suffering any pain.""We know that already.""Indeed!" replied the Viscountess, with a look of surprise. "It seems,cousin, that you saw Sabine that afternoon, but what became of herafterward no one appears to know; but there is positive proof that shedid not leave the house, and received no letters. At all events, itwas more than an hour after her maid saw her enter her own room.
Sabine said a few unintelligible words to the girl, who, seeing thepallor upon her mistress's face, ran up to her. Just as she did so,Sabine uttered a wild shriek, and fell to the ground. She was raisedup and laid upon the bed, but since then she has neither moved norspoken.""That is not all," said De Breulh, who had watched his cousin keenly.
The Viscounte............