Mme. Lemaire stood in the window of M. de Cadanet's sitting-room,
looking out. The day before he had been wheeled into it, and with the
fretfulness of an invalid had declared it was very strange that those
who could walk about and see so much had nothing entertaining to tell
him. Amelie had accepted the reproach cheerfully, and betaken herself
to one of the long windows, with its lace and ugly red moreen curtains,
hoping to find materials for his distraction.
But the materials were few, or she did not know how to make the best of
them. He did not in the least care to hear of a grey sister, with snowy
collar and flapping cap, walking with her school; nor, though it made a
pretty picture, of the balcony opposite, on which a girl in a black
dress stood with her arm on a railing looking down at the busy street
below. At last he desired her, irritably, to say no more, and was
silent.
The room in which they were was not M. de Cadanet's study, for that
looked into the court-yard, and this into the street. It had been
chosen because it was sunnier and more cheerful. But the cheerfulness
being a failure, he presently insisted upon being wheeled into the
study. There, with the stove lit, though it was very warm, he seemed to
revive, and Mme. Lemaire left him in charge of Andre, with many
instructions as to food and rest. Charles was burning with impatience
as to the conversation which lay before him, and of which the subject
was to be Leon de Beaudrillart, but the doctor had forbidden any talk
that threatened excitement, until a few more days had passed, and the
count was stronger.
When Amelie arrived at the house the next morning, she found her uncle
in bed and very much weaker. It seemed that he had insisted upon Andre
fetching a tin box from the library, which, when it was unlocked, turned
out to contain a bundle of papers. These M. de Cadanet had studied for
a long time, afterwards replacing them with marked agitation. He had
evidently felt extreme fatigue in consequence, and the doctor spoke with
gravity to Mme. Lemaire, declaring that the access of weakness was a
very discouraging sign. The old count himself said very little, but
towards evening remarked:
"Tell your husband I wish to speak to him to-morrow afternoon." And
when Amelie attempted a remonstrance, he added, peremptorily: "I wish
it;" and the doctor, to whom she appealed the next morning, only
replied:
"It may, of course, be injurious--all emotion is likely to be
injurious--but I cannot take it upon me to prevent Monsieur de Cadanet
from giving what are, possibly, important directions. His condition is
too critical."
Charles himself, who had been on thorns, disliked the prospect. If M.
de Cadanet was at last dying, he was of opinion that matters had better
remain as they were, without further allusions to Leon. Andre, closely
cross-questioned, revealed nothing. His master had read the papers and
replaced them, that was all. Certainly no notary had been sent for, and
he himself had never once left the room. Charles, always suspicious,
had an idea that the man was keeping back something, but as his
questions could not find ground for the opinion, there was nothing to
say or do. Nor, however much he might have preferred to avoid the
coming interview, could he venture to do so, for, weak as he was, M. de
Cadanet might no more be safely contradicted now than at any former
time. He came accordingly at the hour appointed, and Amelie was waiting
in the anteroom.
"He is terribly changed," she whispered. "The doctor thinks there must
be another attack shortly."
"Does he know what he is about?" her husband asked, eagerly.
"Oh, perfectly. He is asking for you; and you can go in at once, only
do be careful."
He went, though unwillingly. Sickness and death were repulsive to him,
and he had a dread of some inconvenient request being made, with which
he would rather not comply. Still, as he reflected, better he should be
sent for than any other man, and he put on a cheerful air as he advanced
to the bed in the alcove.
"Sorry to find you here again, dear uncle. I'm afraid you have been
attempting a little too much. However, in a day or two--"