face. She pointed to the Count, who, with his
brows contracted and his lips sternly set, was talking
volubly. All three trembled. He ground out
the name of the Duke of Morlay-La-Branche in a kind
of roar. Mlle. Frahender, more composed
than the girls, took the potion left by the doctor
to calm the fever when it should become too raging.
Esperance hardened herself against the weakness which
had made her leave the bedside, and while Genevieve
held the bandaged head she poured the liquid between
the sick man’s lips. At the same time she
spoke to him very gently.
The well-known, much-loved voice had more effect than
the potion. The wounded man grew gradually calmer,
and still unconscious, slept quietly once more.
Then Esperance sank back in an easy chair, begging
Mlle. Frahender to see that no one should make
any noise. When the doctor returned at nine,
he found the patient had been sleeping for an hour.
He was well satisfied, and waited a half-hour more
before disturbing him to dress the wound. He
could say nothing definitely as yet, except that the
patient had lost no ground.
He took his leave until next day, and when Francois
asked him to insist upon his daughter’s rest,
he refused, saying, “I shall do nothing of the
kind. She risks nothing except a slight fatigue,
and she is performing a good work. It may be
that she is the real doctor.”
A telegram from Madame Styvens announced that she
would arrive next day with the doctor who had attended
Albert from childhood, and a friend. She asked
that rooms be reserved at the hotel at Palais.
But Francois would reserve only the “Five Divisions
of the World” for the three travellers.
They prepared one of the rooms as a dressing-room
for the Countess, and Maurice and Jean went to lodge
at the farmer’s.
It was with infinite discretion that Esperance broke
the news of his mother’s coming to Albert.
“Poor mother,” he said, “she must
be living through hours of anguish in her anxiety.
But the doctor said that I am out of danger.”
“What! you were not asleep!”
He smiled with the almost childish smile of the very
ill returning to life.
“Then I shall be on my guard, henceforth,”
she threatened him gently with a slender finger.
He stretched his hand out towards her. She pressed
it tenderly.
“Be careful, Albert, don’t move too much.”
They had completely dropped the “Monsieur”
and “Mademoiselle,” and this intimacy
filled the young man’s heart with joy.
Francois had made a special arrangement with the captain
of the Soulacroup, so that the charming Countess
need not risk travelling with geese and pigs.
At Quiberon he had reserved a special room that she
might have at least an hour of rest. She went
pale as death when she saw the philosopher and his
wife waiting for her at the train, although they had
sent her reassuring telegrams every few hours.
But feared that something serious might have happened
while she was on the way.
