had drawn to the gateway; "it is Monsieur le Comte de Marvejols, whom we
found in this condition a few steps from here. Let one of you run with
all speed to fetch a physician or a surgeon. But, above all things,
absolute secrecy; do not let this accident reach madame la comtesse's
ears to-night; before we tell her that her husband is under her roof, we
must know if there is any hope of restoring him to life!"
Jarnonville's orders were executed with zeal. Ambroisine installed
herself by the wounded man's bedside, having sent a servant to inform
her father that she should pass the night at the Hôtel de Marvejols.
Luckily, the hôtel was an immense place, and the young countess's
apartment was in a different wing from that to which her husband had
been taken. So that Bathilde slept in peace beside her daughter, having
no suspicion that the constant object of her thoughts was so near her at
that moment.
The surgeon summoned by the servant carefully examined the deep wound in
Léodgard's breast. One and all waited anxiously to hear what he would
say, what judgment he would pronounce.
But the man of science simply shook his head in a far from encouraging
fashion, and said:
"This is a very serious wound, and the loss of blood has been
considerable. If monsieur le comte recovers, he will be very fortunate.
However, if the sword did not reach any of the vital organs, it is
possible that he may be cured. For the moment, it is impossible to say.
When the patient recovers consciousness, be careful, above all things,
not to let him talk; avoid everything that is likely to cause him the
slightest excitement."
The surgeon took his leave after giving the necessary directions, saying
that he would return at daybreak.
Jarnonville and Ambroisine passed the night beside the wounded man.
"Mon Dieu! if she suspected that he was here!" murmured the girl,
glancing at the chevalier.
"She would be unable to resist the desire to come to see him; she would
insist upon attending to his wants; and you heard what the surgeon
said--that the slightest excitement might be fatal to him. Do you think
that he would not be excited, if, on opening his eyes, he should see his
wife by his side?"
"You are right, chevalier; but if fate has willed that monsieur le comte
is to die of this wound, if to-morrow he should have ceased to live! Do
you think that Bathilde would ever forgive us for concealing from her
the fact that her husband is here--dying--so near her; and for depriving
her of the melancholy pleasure of closing his eyes?"
"I know not what to say; follow the dictates of your heart. You love the
countess too dearly not to divine which is likely to cause her the less
pain,--to remain in ignorance of her husband's danger, or to share our
anxiety concerning his fate."
Ambroisine hesitated, but she decided at last to wait until daybreak and
the surgeon's return.
Toward the middle of the night, Léodgard partly opened his eyes; but his
vague, uncertain glance could not endure the dim light in the room; he
soon dropped his eyelids, having recognized none of his surroundings.
At dawn, the surgeon returned to his patient; after examining him
carefully, feeling his pulse, and listening a long while to his
respiration, he made a motion with his head, more encouraging than the
earlier one, and said:
"I have a little hope; but I cannot say anything definite until I have
removed the dressing of the wound, and I must not do that until evening.
Until then, the same directions, the same precautions; give him this
phial to inhale from, if he should lose consciousness; but, above all
things, absolute silence."
When the surgeon had gone, Ambroisine, having made up her mind what to
do, went to her friend's room.
It was only seven o'clock in the morning; Bathilde was still asleep,
with her face turned toward her daughter's cradle, so that when she woke
her first glance was for her child.
Ambroisine walked into the room very softly, in order to make no noise.
The faithful Marie, who was already in the adjoining room, allowed her
mistress's young friend to pass without remonstrance; for the countess
had once told her that Ambroisine was at liberty to enter her apartment
at all times and seasons.
The young mother and her child were both sleeping peacefully.
"They are enjoying sweet repose," said Ambroisine to herself, as she
gazed at them. "Poor Bathilde! you have earned it by all the torments
and suffering you have endured!--Would it not be a crime to disturb it?
The man who is yonder is most unjust to you! does he deserve that you
should shed more tears for him?--Ah, no! it seems to me that he does not
deserve it.--But she still loves him, he is this little angel's father;
and then, too, he has held Blanche to his heart! For that reason, we
must forgive him."
And Ambroisine laid her hand gently on Bathilde's arm. Her light sleep
was disturbed by the slightest touch. When she saw her friend standing
by her side, the young mother apprehended some calamity and instantly
turned her eyes toward her daughter; but the child was sleeping quietly,
and her pink and white cheeks were altogether reassuring as to her
health.
"What is the matter, in heaven's name," asked Bathilde, half rising,
"that you are here so early, dear Ambroisine? You must have something of
great importance to tell me?"
"I have not left the house since yesterday; that is to say, I left it
for a moment, but returned at once and passed the night here."
"Speak, Ambroisine, explain yourself; one would say that you dared
not.--Oh! I will be brave enough, if necessary. Besides, my daughter is
with me; and when I fear nothing for her, I am very strong, I assure
you!"
Thereupon Ambroisine told her friend of the events of the previous
night, taking pains, however, not to make the count's wound appear so
serious as the surgeon had declared it to be.
But Bathilde did not give her time to finish her story; she had already
risen and was dressing in great haste, saying, in a voice broken by the
emotion that choked her utterance:
"He is here, mon Dieu! here--so near me--since last night--and I was not
told! And you left me in ignorance of his suffering!--Oh! that was
wrong--very wrong! is it not my duty to be with my husband when he needs
care?"
"Our duty was to follow the orders of the surgeon; he said that the
slightest excitement would be fatal to monsieur le comte."
"Mon Dieu! then he is very ill!"
"Remember that he does not know as yet where he has been taken; and if
he sees you by his side, if he recognizes you, do you think that it will
not excite him?"
"Very well! I will hide myself, I will keep out of sight, he shall not
see me!--But I shall see him, I shall know what his condition is, and I
shall be able to add my care to that which you give him.--Come,
Ambroisine, come!"
But before leaving the room Bathilde stopped to press her lips to her
daughter's brow; then, after bidding the faithful Marie to stay with
Blanche, she hurried to her husband's apartment.
Léodgard was still in the same condition; the ghastly pallor of his face
and his closed eyes gave him the aspect of a dead man; but a faint
breath that came from his lips proved that life had not abandoned him.
Bathilde gazed long at the sad spectacle, then fell on her knees beside
the bed, and implored heaven to preserve Léodgard's life.
XLVIII
THE SWEETEST LOVE
For twenty days, Léodgard hovered between life and death; a horrible
delirium succeeded the prostration which immediately followed his wound;
but during that time the most touchingly devoted care was lavished on
him.
Bathilde, Ambroisine, and the Sire de Jarnonville were almost constantly
at the patient's bedside; at first the young wife passed whole nights in
attendance on her husband; in order to induce her to be more reasonable,
to force her to take some rest, it was necessary to tell her that her
child was asking for her, that she refused to go to sleep unless her
mother was with her.
During those long nights, when the violence of the count's fever often
caused him to talk aloud in his dreams, or rather in his delirium, his
watchers had observed with amazement that the same person was constantly
in his thoughts, that he was almost invariably tormented by the same
memories; in short, that his lips many and many a time uttered a certain
name; and that name was Giovanni.
"Did you hear him?" Bathilde would ask her friend; "it is most
extraordinary that Léodgard, in his delirium, is always thinking of that
famous robber. One would say that he was afraid of the man--that he was
fighting with him!"
"Yes; only yesterday I heard monsieur le comte cry out: 'Avaunt,
wretched man! do not pursue me so!'--And a moment later, he said: 'But,
no, it is not he, it is I whom they mean to arrest! They have recognized
me! I am Giovanni, I! the other is dead!'"
"Poor love! what ghastly delirium!--Oh! when will he be calmer and
recover his reason?"
And one evening, Bathilde said to the Sire de Jarnonville, who seemed
lost in thought as he listened to the sick man's wanderings:
"Chevalier, as my husband is always thinking of this Giovanni, do not
you believe that, instead of having fought a duel, as you thought at
first, he was attacked by that terrible robber and received this
dangerous wound from him?"
"I haven't the least doubt about it, myself," said Ambroisine; "monsieur
le comte has that last encounter ever present in his mind, and so in his
delirium he believes he still sees this Giovanni."
Jarnonville seemed to reflect before he replied; at last he said to the
friends:
"Your conjectures may be well founded; yes, it may well be that, instead
of a duel, the count was the victim of an ambuscade."
"Besides, you have made inquiries, chevalier, have you not? you have
seen a number of gentlemen who are friends of Léodgard, and no one of
them knows of his having fought a duel?"
"No, madame; nor has anyone heard even of a possible quarrel. But, in
truth, since the cardinal issued such a severe edict against duellists,
there is little inclination to boast of such affairs; on the contrary,
whoever has one on hand tries to keep it entirely secret. For that
reason, whatever the cause of the count's wound, it is prudent to
attribute it to a nocturnal attack."
"Especially as it is probably the truth; otherwise, would my husband
think so constantly of that Giovanni?"
On the twenty-first day, the surgeon, having paid an early visit to his
patient, because he expected a crisis which would be decisive of his
fate, sent the ladies away, allowing no one to remain with him save the
Sire de Jarnonville; then he waited to see what Providence rather than
his skill would do for the count.
He had been in a violent fever since the night before, but the delirium
had ceased. Toward morning the fever subsided and was ere long succeeded
by a peaceful sleep.
Then the surgeon went to Bathilde, who was in an adjoining room, on her
knees, with her daughter kneeling beside her. Both were praying; and
they were such pure and spotless creatures that their prayers were
granted.
"Saved! I will answer for him now!" said the surgeon, as he approached
the countess.
She seized the doctor's hands, pressed them to her heart, and would have
kissed them if he had not prevented her.--Is not he who restores to us a
person whom we love a god in our eyes? and do we not always feel that
words are powerless to express our gratitude?
"But," continued the surgeon, "the greatest caution is necessary
still--no great excitement! The convalescence will be long--very long.
In order to heal perfectly, the wound needs prolonged rest; but, unless
something unforeseen happens, I repeat--monsieur le comte is
saved.--When he wakes, he will feel better, and he will question you, no
doubt. Urge him to think of nothing but getting well, and tell him that
I have forbidden you to allow him to talk."
Then, having written a new prescription, the doctor went away, carrying
with him the benedictions of those whom he had made happy.
"When he wakes," said Jarnonville, "the count will recognize this
apartment, as it is the one he occupied when he lived with his father."
"After all," said Ambroisine, "he must know it at some time. Where could
he be taken better care of than in his own house, with his wife and
child?"
"Oh! do not mention his wife to him!" cried Bathilde; "that might make
him angry, and you know what the doctor ordered!"
"Will you trust me?" said the chevalier; "I am sure that I can arrange
matters so that your husband will have an agreeable awakening, attended
by pleasant sensations.--Pray, madame, intrust your daughter to me."
"Blanche!"
"Yes; the sight of that little angel cannot fail to produce a happy
result."
"But he knows that she is his daughter."
"And that knowledge did not prevent him from embracing her!"
"But he fled when he noticed that someone saw him kissing his child!"
"He has just escaped death; and that circumstance sometimes induces
salutary reflections--when one has seen the grave so near at hand!"
"Well! I place myself in your hands, chevalier; take my dear Blanche--I
will remain here, and unless the count asks for me I will not venture to
show myself to him; but I shall be happy once more, if, from this room,
I hear my husband kiss his child."
Jarnonville took little Blanche by the hand, after she had been told not
to make any noise; she seemed already to understand that she was to have
a share in the cure of the gentleman who was lying there, although
Bathilde had not dared to tell her to call him _father_.
The chevalier returned softly to the count's room. Hearing some movement
in the bed, he left Blanche hidden by the curtains, and approached the
invalid, who had opened his eyes and was gazing about the room as if he
were trying to collect his thoughts, to marshal his recollections.
At sight of Jarnonville, Léodgard, more amazed than ever, faltered:
"What! is it you, Jarnonville? For heaven's sake, explain! What has
happened?"
"You were very dangerously wounded. I found you lying on the ground,
under an arcade on Place Royale."
"Oh, yes! yes! I remember--my duel--with the Marquis de Santoval.--And
you had me brought here? But I recognize this chamber--it used to be
mine; I am at the Hôtel de Marvejols."
"To carry you farther would have been impossible; you would have died on
the way; and besides, where else would you have found the devoted,
incessant care and attention with which you have been surrounded here
for three weeks past?"
Léodgard made no reply; he let his head fall back on the pillow; but his
expression had become sad, his brow was clouded.
Thereupon Jarnonville beckoned to Blanche, who had remained behind the
curtains, afraid to stir. The little girl came forward, climbed the bed
steps beside the bed, then suddenly showed her sweet face to Léodgard,
saying:
"I see the gentleman!"
An abrupt change took place in Léodgard's whole expression; at first he
started in surprise, but almost instantly a sentiment of well-being,
like the calm after a storm, found its way into the invalid's heart.
He smiled at Blanche and tried to hold out his hand to her. But he was
still too weak to use his arm, and could only say:
"Is it you, dear child?--Ah! it is very good of you to come to see me.
You must come often."
Then his eyes closed--the emotion had exhausted his strength; but the
weakness that he felt was in no wise dangerous, and it was soon
succeeded by a refreshing sleep.
"We have succeeded!" said Jarnonville, leading the child back to her
mother; "the sight of the child instantly dissipated the clouds that
darkened your husband's brow. Now, madame, you may be sure that Blanche
will complete her father's cure."
Bathilde lovingly embraced her daughter; then she took advantage of
Léodgard's slumber to go to his side and gaze at him at her ease.
By the sick man's movements they could always determine the moment when
he would wake; thereupon Ambroisine and Bathilde hastened from the room,
leaving Jarnonville there alone; or if the chevalier was absent, his
place was taken by a servant.
When Léodgard next opened his eyes, they wandered about the room, as if
in search of someone.
Jarnonville approached the bed and asked if he desired anything.
"Yes," whispered the count, trying to smile, "yes--I would like to
see--the little girl."
"He is not willing yet to say 'my daughter,' but that will come in
time," thought the chevalier, as he went to fetch Blanche, whom he soon
led to her father's bedside.
The little one ascended the bed steps without aid, and showed her pretty
face, her chestnut hair, and her winning smile.
"Bonjour, my friend!" she said.
Bathilde had instructed Blanche to address her father thus. Before
giving him a sweeter name, she wished that Léodgard himself should
authorize it.
The invalid succeeded in putting out his hand as far as the child, whose
hair, already thick and silky, he patted gently, saying:
"You are very good to come to see me; but perhaps you will get tired of
it. Will you come every day?"
"Yes, my friend."
"In the morning, and then again in the afternoon?"
"Yes--if mamma will let me!"
Léodgard became pensive, and was silent for a long while, still toying
with the child's hair. After a few minutes, Blanche cried:
"I prayed to the good Lord, I did, with mamma, to make my friend not be
sick any more!"
"Dear child, how kind you are! Do you love me a little?"
"Oh, yes! with all my heart!"
Léodgard made a movement; it was plain that he desired to kiss Blanche;
but he could not raise himself so as to put his face to hers.
Jarnonville, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye, saw all
this; he made no sign, however, but remained where he was, pretending
to be engrossed by his book.
At last, unable to reach the child's face, Léodgard decided to say to
her:
"Give me your hand--a little farther--against my lips; that is right."
And he covered his daughter's little hand with kisses, while she
exclaimed with delight:
"Oh! monsieur friend! he kiss Blanche's hand!"
Concealed behind the folds of a portière, Bathilde saw it all, and tears
of joy escaped from her eyes.
The count kept the child with him a long while, but at last made up his
mind to send her away.
"I do not wish to deprive her any longer of the pleasures, the
amusements suited to her years," he said to Jarnonville; "her pretty
color will fade beside a sickbed.--Take her away, chevalier.--Au revoir,
little one--until to-morrow! I shall wait impatiently for you to come to
pass a few moments with me."
Twelve days passed. Léodgard continued to improve and began to recover a
little strength; but it was not possible as yet for him to leave his
bed, the severity of the wound he had received demanding extreme
precautions. To beguile his ennui, to make the hours seem less long, he
often had Blanche with him, and each day he tried to keep her longer.
When his daughter was not by his side, Léodgard was silent, and his mind
seemed always to be engrossed by gloomy thoughts. He would hardly
answer Jarnonville when he tried to divert him, and sometimes passed
whole hours without opening his lips, without emerging from the torpor
in which he was plunged. But when Blanche's little steps pattered along
the floor, when her sweet voice made itself heard in the room, it was as
if a fairy had touched the Comte de Marvejols with her magic wand: his
brow instantly cleared, he raised his eyes, a bright smile changed the
whole expression of his countenance, and, being stronger now, he would
hold out his arms to Blanche, draw her to him, and make her sit on his
bed, where he could kiss her lovely face at his ease.
Then he would lead the child on to talk; he loved to hear her, to listen
to her childish answers, wherein sensibility and intelligence were
already apparent. These are natural gifts, which education and years do
not give; when they do not manifest themselves early in life, be sure
that you will look in vain for them later.
But Léodgard had not yet called Blanche his daughter; and when she spoke
of her mother, he very soon found a way to change the subject.
Bathilde continued to keep out of her husband's sight, and he had not
once inquired about her. But she did not complain; she was happy because
she had been able to nurse him, and even happier for the affection which
he displayed for his daughter.
Ambroisine thought it her duty as well to abstain from showing herself
to the sick man; the mere sight of her had seemed so unpleasant to the
count when she met him on Place Royale, holding Blanche in his arms,
that she did not care to cause him a repetition of that sensation.
So that Léodgard saw nobody save the surgeon, who continued to visit him
morning and evening; Jarnonville, who often came to bear him company,
and to whom he had confided the fact that he had fought a duel with the
Marquis de Santoval, but without disclosing the cause of their quarrel;
the servants, who came to him when he rang; and the child, who had
lately embellished the invalid's bed with divers toys, so that she might
remain longer with her friend.
One evening, the two ladies questioned the chevalier on the subject of
Léodgard's wound.
"Has he told you how it happened?" asked Bathilde; "how he was attacked
by Giovanni? For it was that brigand who wounded him, was it not?"
Jarnonville seemed to reflect before he replied:
"Madame, your husband is very uncommunicative; and since he has begun to
improve, he talks no more than before. Your daughter alone has the power
to make him talk. When I attempted to question him concerning this
adventure, he answered only by monosyllables, which led me to think that
my questions were displeasing to him; so that I thought that I should
not persist."
"Oh! you were quite right, chevalier; let monsieur le comte conceal from
us the cause of his accident, if that is his wish; the essential point
is that it should have no fatal consequences."
"Still," said Ambroisine, "I do not understand why he should make a
mystery of having been attacked by a robber! But if he had fought a
duel----"
"That is impossible," rejoined Bathilde; "remember that in his delirium
he talked constantly of this Giovanni."
Thus the two friends were still uncertain with respect to the cause of
the wound which had nearly caused the count's death; and Jarnonville,
who knew what it was and might have told them, pretended to share their
ignorance.
One morning, on awaking, Léodgard, who was accustomed to see Blanche at
the foot of his bed, or somewhere in the room, looked in vain for the
child, who was nowhere in sight. After waiting for some time for his
daughter to be brought to him, he rang for a servant.
"Why do they not send the child to me this morning, as usual?" he asked
the valet who answered the bell.
"I believe that I heard someone say, monsieur le comte, that
mademoiselle was not very well in the night; that is probably the reason
why she does not come to you."
"Ah! that makes a difference! And the physician--have they sent for the
physician?"
"Yes, monsieur le comte."
"Has the Sire de Jarnonville not yet come?"
"No, monseigneur."
"Very well; as soon as the physician has seen the child, send him to
me."
The valet left the room; but in a few moments the count rang again, and
asked that the child's nurse be sent to him.
Marie appeared, and the count was glad to see the nurse who was taking
his daughter to walk on Place Royale when he first met her there. He
motioned to her to come forward.
"Blanche is ill--what is the matter?"
"Oh! it will be nothing, monsieur le comte; mademoiselle coughed a
little in the night, and this morning she has a little fever; but it
will not amount to anything; children fall sick very quickly, but they
get well as quickly."
"Is she in pain?"
"No, monseigneur; she has already asked to get up, and to come to see
you."
"What! does she really think of me?"
"Oh! since she has been coming here, you are her first thought, after
she has kissed her mother."
"Dear child!"
"But as mademoiselle is feverish, it would be imprudent to allow her to
rise."
"Yes, it must not be. And her--her mother is with her, I presume?"
"Madame does not leave mademoiselle for an instant; especially as when
she is ill mademoiselle is not always very good about taking her
medicine. But when her mamma says to her: 'You must take this, my
child!' then she obeys instantly."
"It is well; go; let them send the doctor to me when he has seen
Blanche."