Part 58 (1/2)
”Wait, wait, gentlemen, I am at your service.”
And at the same moment Rene drew the bolts and, lifting the bars, opened the door to the two young men locking it after him. Then, conducting them by the exterior staircase, he introduced them into the second compartment.
La Mole, as he entered, made the sign of the cross under his cloak. He was pale, and his hand trembled without his being able to repress this symptom of weakness.
Coconnas looked at everything, one after the other; and seeing the door of the cell, was about to open it.
”Allow me to observe, my dear young gentleman,” said Rene, in his deep voice, and placing his hand on Coconnas's, ”those that do me the honor of a visit have access only to this part of the room.”
”Oh, very well,” replied Coconnas; ”besides, I feel like sitting down.”
And he took a seat.
There was unbroken silence for a moment--Maitre Rene was waiting for one or the other of the young men to open the conversation.
”Maitre Rene,” at length said Coconnas, ”you are a skilful man, and I pray you tell me if I shall always remain a sufferer from my wound--that is, always experience this shortness of breath, which prevents me from riding on horseback, using my sword, and eating larded omelettes?”
Rene put his ear to Coconnas's chest and listened attentively to the play of the lungs.
”No, Monsieur le Comte,” he replied, ”you will get well.”
”Really?”
”Yes, I a.s.sure you.”
”Well, you fill me with delight.”
There was silence once more.
”Is there nothing else you would desire to know, M. le Comte?”
”I wish to know,” said Coconnas, ”if I am really in love?”
”You are,” replied Rene.
”How do you know?”
”Because you asked the question.”
”By Heaven! you are right. But with whom?”
”With her who now, on every occasion, uses the oath you have just uttered.”
”Ah!” said Coconnas, amazed; ”Maitre Rene, you are a clever man! Now, La Mole, it is your turn.”
La Mole reddened, and seemed embarra.s.sed.
”I, Monsieur Rene,” he stammered, and speaking more firmly as he proceeded, ”do not care to ask you if I am in love, for I know that I am, and I do not hide it from myself; but tell me, shall I be beloved in return? for, in truth, all that at first seemed propitious now turns against me.”
”Perchance you have not done all you should do.”
”What is there to do, sir, but to testify, by one's respect and devotion to the lady of one's thoughts, that she is really and profoundly beloved?”