Part 34 (2/2)

The good girl went and got me a cloak, put it over my shoulders, and offered to wake up Mme. Arnould to see if a vehicle could be obtained; but I would hear of nothing, convinced as I was that I should lose, in a perhaps fruitless inquiry, more time than I should take to cover half the road. Besides, I felt the need of air and physical fatigue in order to cool down the over-excitement which possessed me.

I took the key of the flat in the Rue d'Antin, and after saying good-bye to Nanine, who came with me as far as the gate, I set out.

At first I began to run, but the earth was muddy with rain, and I fatigued myself doubly. At the end of half an hour I was obliged to stop, and I was drenched with sweat. I recovered my breath and went on.

The night was so dark that at every step I feared to dash myself against one of the trees on the roadside, which rose up sharply before me like great phantoms rus.h.i.+ng upon me.

I overtook one or two wagons, which I soon left behind. A carriage was going at full gallop toward Bougival. As it pa.s.sed me the hope came to me that Marguerite was in it. I stopped and cried out, ”Marguerite!

Marguerite!” But no one answered and the carriage continued its course.

I watched it fade away in the distance, and then started on my way again. I took two hours to reach the Barriere de l'Etoile. The sight of Paris restored my strength, and I ran the whole length of the alley I had so often walked.

That night no one was pa.s.sing; it was like going through the midst of a dead city. The dawn began to break. When I reached the Rue d'Antin the great city stirred a little before quite awakening. Five o'clock struck at the church of Saint Roch at the moment when I entered Marguerite's house. I called out my name to the porter, who had had from me enough twenty-franc pieces to know that I had the right to call on Mlle.

Gautier at five in the morning. I pa.s.sed without difficulty. I might have asked if Marguerite was at home, but he might have said ”No,” and I preferred to remain in doubt two minutes longer, for, as long as I doubted, there was still hope.

I listened at the door, trying to discover a sound, a movement. Nothing.

The silence of the country seemed to be continued here. I opened the door and entered. All the curtains were hermetically closed. I drew those of the dining-room and went toward the bed-room and pushed open the door. I sprang at the curtain cord and drew it violently. The curtain opened, a faint light made its way in. I rushed to the bed. It was empty.

I opened the doors one after another. I visited every room. No one. It was enough to drive one mad.

I went into the dressing-room, opened the window, and called Prudence several times. Mme. Duvernoy's window remained closed.

I went downstairs to the porter and asked him if Mlle. Gautier had come home during the day.

”Yes,” answered the man; ”with Mme. Duvernoy.”

”She left no word for me?”

”No.”

”Do you know what they did afterward?”

”They went away in a carriage.”

”What sort of a carriage?”

”A private carriage.”

What could it all mean?

I rang at the next door.

”Where are you going, sir?” asked the porter, when he had opened to me.

”To Mme. Duvernoy's.”

”She has not come back.”

<script>