Part 30 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXIX.

FAREWELL HOPE!

”Madame,” the waiting maid said to her the next afternoon, ”the gentleman is desirous of setting forth upon his journey again. He is well now, he says, and he has far to ride.”

”Well,” said la baronne, glancing up from the lounge on which she lay in her _salon_ and speaking in her usual cold tones, ”he may go. What is there to detain him? The surgeon says he is fit to travel, does he not? His was but a fit from long riding in the sun.”

”Yes, my lady--but----”

”But what?”

”My lady, he _is_ a gentleman--none can doubt that. He--he is desirous to speak with you--to----”

”To speak with me?” and from her dark eyes there shot a gleam that the woman before her did not understand. Nor did she understand why her ladys.h.i.+p's colour left her face so suddenly. ”To speak with me?”

”Yes, my lady. To, he says, thank you for your charity to him a stranger--for your hospitality.”

”My hospitality!” and she drew a long breath. Then, and it seemed to the waiting maid as if her mistress had grown suddenly hoa.r.s.e, ”He said that?”

”He said so, madame. He begged you would not refuse to let him make the only return that lay in his power.”

”I will not see him.”

”Madame!”

”I will not see him--go--tell him so. No! Yet, stay, on further consideration I will. Go. Bring him.”

Left alone, she threw herself back once more on the cus.h.i.+ons of her lounge, muttering to herself: ”After all,” she said, ”it is best. He never saw my face on that night--the mask did not fall from it until his back was turned--I remember it all well--Raoul's cry for help--this one's determination--my blow. Ah, the blow! It should never have been struck--yet--yet--otherwise he had slain Raoul. And,” she continued rapidly, for she knew that the man would be here in a moment, ”and I may find out if he knows who and what he is. If he guesses also the fate in store for him.”

Rapidly she went to a cabinet in this great _salon_, took out from it a little dagger, and dropped it in the folds of her dress, muttering: ”It may be needed again. He may recognise me even after so long and in such different surroundings,” and then turned and faced the door at which a knocking was now heard. A moment later St. Georges was in the room.

Pale from the loss of blood he had sustained both from his fall and at the surgeon's hands, and looking much worn by all he had suffered of late--to say nothing of the two years of slavery he had undergone--he still presented a figure that, to an ordinary woman, would have been interesting and have earned her sympathy. His long hair was now brushed carefully and fell in graceful folds behind; his face, if worn and sad, was as handsome as it had ever been. Even his travel-stained garments, now carefully cleaned and brushed, were not unbecoming to him. And she, regarding him fixedly, felt at last a spark of compunction rise in her bosom for all that she had done against him.

Yet it must be stifled, she knew. That very morning's work--a letter to the commandant at the castle--had been sufficient to make all regret unavailing now.

”Madame,” he said, bending low before her with the courtesy of the period, ”I could not leave your house without desiring first to thank you for the protection you have afforded me. And, poor and unknown as I am, I yet beseech you to believe that my grat.i.tude is very great.

You succoured me in my hour of need, madame; for that succour let me thank you.” And stooping his knee he courteously endeavoured to take her hand.

But--none are all evil--even Nathalie de Louvigny would not suffer that. Drawing back from him, she exclaimed instead: ”Sir, you have nothing to thank me for. I--I--what I did I should have done to any whom I had found as you were.”

He raised his eyes and looked at her. A chord or tone in her voice seemed to recall something in the past, and she standing there divined that such was the case. Then he said, quietly:

”Madame, I can well believe it. Charity does not discriminate in its objects. Yet, since I so happened to be that object, I must thank you.

Madame, it is not probable that I shall ever visit Rambouillet again, nor, indeed, France after a little while; let an----”

”Not visit France again!” she exclaimed, staring open-eyed at him.

”Are you not a Frenchman?”

”Madame, I was a Frenchman. I am so no longer. I have parted with France forever. In another week, or as soon after that as possible, I intend to quit France and never to return to it.”