Part 51 (1/2)
”It is not only the fresh air--” Anne broke off, then went on again.
”Well, my friend, you went to Sonnay--you took the child to the convent?”
”Yes--she will be very safe there for a time--the reverend mothers received her excellently. I do not care for convents, as you know, but I am not sure that Henriette, even at this early age, has not found her vocation. Till to-day, I do not think I had seen the child smile since--”
”Ah, yes--” Anne murmured something under her breath. ”Did you see Monsieur de Mauves?”
”For a few minutes. I talked so long with the Prioress that it was late before I reached the Prefecture. He had been to Paris. He explained all that tissue of rascality to the Emperor, so that no blame might fall on the wrong shoulders. Luckily His Majesty disliked Ratoneau; the man smoked and swore too much to please him.”
”But after all,” Anne said thoughtfully, ”the Prefect drew up those papers himself, if he did not send them. And you, Urbain--”
He waved his hand sadly, impatiently. ”No more of me, I am punished enough,” he said. ”I thought I was acting for everybody's good--but alas!--Yes, De Mauves drew up the papers, and then repented. He threw them into a drawer, and determined at least to delay sending them till circ.u.mstances and Ratoneau should force his hand further. Then came his illness; recovering, he believed the papers to be safe in his bureau, and left this affair, with many others, to arrange itself later. In the meanwhile, the rascal Simon had corrupted his foolish young secretary and stolen the papers--you know the rest. I suppose we should be glad that he found out in time--”
”Can any one be otherwise than glad?” Anne said gravely.
”Yes, my dear, there are those who are very sorry. And--before you blame them too hardly, remember that Angelot's marriage was the immediate cause of Joseph's death.”
”The wickedness of a wicked man is alone to be blamed for that,” said Anne. ”Helene's marriage with such an unspeakable wretch would have been a worse thing still.”
Urbain sighed, and did not answer. Presently, gazing into the fire, while Anne watched him with intent, questioning eyes, he said, ”It appears that the Emperor is a little angry with Herve for his hurried action, though he does not object to its consequence, being good enough to say that he values me and my influence in this country. But he does not like to be treated as a tyrant. De Mauves thinks that Adelade will not have the post of lady-in-waiting. It is a pity; she had set her heart on it.”
Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly; it was beyond her power, being a truthful woman, to express any sympathy with Adelade. It was her coldest little voice that said, ”Have you been to Lancilly to-day?”
”Yes,” her husband answered.
”Did you see Adelade?”
”No.”
A bitter smile curled Anne's still beautiful mouth as she stood near his chair and looked at him. Was it only or chiefly Adelade's unforgiving anger that weighed on his broad shoulders, bent his clever brow, drove the old contented smile from his face? True, Joseph's death might well have done all this; but she knew Urbain, and he was not the man to cower under the inevitable. It was his way to meet the blows of fate with a brave front, if not a gay one; he was a Frenchman, and had lived and laughed through the great Revolution. And yet Anne was puzzled; for she respected Urbain too much to acknowledge that Adelade's anger could have so great an effect upon him.
After a short silence he spoke, and told her all; told her of the disappointment of his dearest hopes, the failure of the schemes and struggles of a lifetime. And as he talked, Anne came gradually nearer, till at last, with a most unusual demonstrativeness, her arm was round his neck, and her cheek pressed against his whitening hair. Large tears ran down the man's face and dropped across his wife's hand and splashed on the tapestried arm of the chair.
The Sainfoys were about to leave Lancilly, and probably for ever.