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Émile Gaboriau
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 300 pages of information about The Champdoce Mystery.

“My father’s will shall be carried out in every respect,” said he to himself, and without an hour’s delay he wrote to M. de Puymandour, begging him to call, and hoping that the grief which had fallen upon him had in no way altered the plan which had already been arranged.

CHAPTER X.

A thunderbolt.

As the miner, who sets fire to the fuse and seeks shelter from the coming explosion, so did Diana de Laurebourg return to her father’s house after her visit to Daumon.  During dinner it was impossible for her to utter a word, and it was with the greatest difficulty that she succeeded in swallowing a mouthful.  Fortunately neither her father nor mother took any notice of her.  They had that day received a letter announcing the news that their son, for whose future prosperity they had sacrificed Diana, was lying dangerously ill in Paris, where he was living in great style.  They were in terrible affliction, and spoke of starting at once, so as to be with him.  They therefore expressed no surprise when, on leaving the table, Diana pleaded a severe headache as an excuse for retiring to her own room.  When once she was alone, having dismissed her maid, she heaved a deep sigh of relief.  She never thought of retiring to bed, but throwing open her window, leaned out with her elbow on the window-sill.

It seemed to her that Norbert would certainly make some effort to see her, or at any rate by some means to let her know whether he had succeeded or failed.

“But I must be patient,” murmured she, “for I can’t hear anything until the afternoon of to-morrow.”

In spite, however, of her resolutions, patience fled from her mind, and as soon as the servants had begun moving about, she went out into the garden and took up a position which commanded a view of the highroad, but no one appeared.  The bell rang for breakfast.  Again she had to seat herself at table with her parents, and the terrible penance of the past evening had to be repeated.  At three o’clock she could endure the suspense no longer, and making her escape from the Chateau, she went over to Daumon, who, she felt, must have obtained some intelligence.  Even if she found that he knew nothing, it would be a relief to speak to him and to ask him when he thought that this terrible delay would come to an end.  But she got no comfort at Daumon’s, for he had passed as miserable a night as herself, and was nearly dead with affright.  He had remained in his office all the morning, starting at the slightest sound, and though he was as anxious as Diana for information, he had only gone out a little before her arrival.  He met Mademoiselle Laurebourg on his return at the door of his cottage, and taking her inside, he informed her that at a late hour the night before the doctor had been sent for to Champdoce to attend the Duke, who was supposed to be dying.  Then he reproved her bitterly for her imprudence in visiting him.

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