"I bade you dress me."
The women made ready to obey. Pompée bowed and backed out of the room.
Alas! the plump, rosy cheeks were now as pale and thin as those of the
dying; her hand, as beautiful as ever, and of as lovely shape, was
almost transparent, and lay as white as ivory upon her breast, which
put to shame the snowy linen wherein it was enveloped. Beneath her skin
could be seen the violet veins which told of the exhaustion caused by
great suffering. The clothes she had laid aside the day before, so to
speak, and which then fitted closely to her slender, graceful form, now
fell about her in loose folds.
They dressed her as she wished, but it was a long operation, for she
was so weak that thrice she nearly fainted. When she was dressed she
walked to the window, but turning sharply away, as if the sight of the
sky and the city terrified her, she seated herself at a table, asked
for pen and ink, and wrote a note to Madame la Princesse, soliciting
the favor of an audience.
Ten minutes after the letter had been despatched by the hand of
Pompée to its destination, a carriage stopped at the door, and almost
immediately Madame de Tourville was announced.
"Was it really you," she cried, "who wrote to Madame la Princesse
requesting an audience."
"Yes, madame; will she refuse me?"
"Oh! far from it, my dear child; I came hither at once to say to you
from her that you know perfectly well that you have no need to request
an audience, for you are welcome at any hour of the day or night."
"Thanks, madame," said Claire, "I will avail myself of the privilege."
"How so?" cried Madame de Tourville. "Do you mean to go out in your
present condition?"
"Have no fear, madame," replied the viscountess; "I feel perfectly
well."
"And you will come?"
"Instantly."
"I will go and tell Madame la Princesse of your purpose."
And Madame de Tourville went out as she came in, with a ceremonious
reverence to the viscountess.
The prospect of this unexpected visit produced, as will readily be
understood, great excitement in the little court. The viscountess's
plight had aroused an interest as keen as it was widespread, for it was
by no means true that Madame La Princesse's conduct in the late affair
was universally approved. Curiosity was at its height, therefore;
officers, maids of honor, courtiers, thronged to Madame de Condé's
cabinet, hardly able to believe in the promised visit, for it was but
the day before that Claire's condition was represented to be almost
hopeless.
Suddenly Madame la Vicomtesse de Cambes was announced.
At the sight of those pallid features, as cold and motionless as
marble, the hollow, black-ringed eyes, from which all the life and fire
had fled, a murmur of compassion made itself heard in the princess's
circle.
Claire did not seem to notice it.
Lenet, deeply moved, walked forward to meet her, and timidly put out
his hand. But Claire, without accepting it, walked past him toward
Madame de Condé, whom she saluted with noble dignity. She walked the
whole length of the apartment with firm step, although she was so pale
that she thought every moment that she would fall.
The princess, herself intensely excited and deathly pale, watched
Claire's approach with a feeling resembling terror; nor had she the
strength to conceal the feeling, which was plainly depicted on her face.
"Madame," said the viscountess in a grave voice, "I have requested
this audience which your Highness is pleased to grant me, in order to
ask you, in the face of all, if you have been content with my fidelity
and devotion since I have had the honor to serve you."