“I am going, Henrietta; but I leave you a friend of mine,--a true and
noble friend, who will watch over you. You have heard me speak of him
often,--Maxime de Brevan. He knows my wishes. Whatever may happen,
consult him. Ah! I should leave more cheerfully if you would promise me
to trust this faithful friend, to listen to his advice, and to follow
his directions.”
“I promise you, Daniel, I will obey him.”
But a rustling of the dry leaves interrupted them.
They turned round. A man was cautiously approaching them.
“My father!” cried Henrietta.
And, pushing Daniel towards the gate, she begged him to flee.
To remain would only have been to risk a painful explanation, insults,
perhaps even a personal collision. Daniel understood that but too well.
“Farewell,” he said to Henrietta, “farewell! Tomorrow you will receive a
letter from me.”
And he escaped, but not so promptly that he should not have heard the
count’s angry voice, as he said,--
“Ah, ah! Is this the virtuous young lady who dares to insult Miss
Sarah?”
As soon as Daniel had locked the door again, he listened for a moment,
hoping that he might hear something of importance. But he could only
make out a few indistinct exclamations, then nothing, nothing more.
It was all over now. He would have to sail without seeing Henrietta
again, without enjoying that bitter happiness of holding her once more
in his arms. And yet he had told her nothing of all he had to tell her;
he had not spoken to her of half his recommendations, nor given her a
thousandth part of his tender farewells.
How had they been surprised? How came it about that the count had stayed
at home, instead of hurrying off immediately after dinner, as was his
custom? Why should he have inquired after his daughter, he who generally
took no more trouble about her than if she had not existed?
“Ah, we have been betrayed!” thought the unhappy man.
By whom? By that unpleasant maid evidently, whom he had seen that
morning; by that very Clarissa in whom Henrietta put such confidence. If
that was so,--and it was but too probable,--to whom should he send his
letters hereafter? Here, again, he saw himself reduced to Maxime de
Brevan as the only one who could convey news from him to Henrietta. Ah!
he recognized but too clearly the execrable but most cunning policy of
Miss Brandon.
“The wretch!” he swore; “the infamous woman!”
Wrath, mad wrath, set his brains on fire. And he could do nothing
against that woman!
“But she does not stand alone!” he suddenly exclaimed. “There is a man
there who shelters her under his responsibility,--Sir Thorn!”
M. Elgin might be insulted; he might be struck in the face, and thus be
compelled to fight.
And, without considering this absurd plan, he hurried to Circus Street.
Although it was barely eight o’clock, Miss Brandon’s house looked as if
everybody were asleep. He rang the bell, however; and, when a servant
came to the door, he inquired,--
“M. Thomas Elgin?”
“M. Elgin is absent,” replied the servant.
“At what hour will he be back?”
“He is not coming home to-night.”
And whether he had received special instructions, or was only acting
upon general orders, he added,--
“Mrs. Brian is at the theatre; but Miss Brandon is at home.”
Daniel’s wrath changed into a kind of cold fury.
“They expected me,” he thought.
And he hesitated. Should he see Miss Brandon? But for what end? He was
just turning away, when a sudden thought occurred to him. Why should he
not talk with her, come to an understanding, and perhaps make a bargain
with her?
“Show me to Miss Brandon’s room,” he said to the servant.
She sat, as she always did when left alone in the house, in the little
boudoir, where Daniel had already once been carried by her. Dressed in a
long dressing-wrapper of pale-blue cashmere, her hair scarcely taken up
at all, she was reading, reclining on a sofa.
As the door opened, she raised herself carelessly a little, and, without
turning around, asked,--
“Who is that?”
But, when the servant announced the name of M. Champcey, she rose with a
bound, almost terrified, dropping the book which she had in her hand.
“You!” she murmured as soon as the servant had left. “Here, and of your
own accord?”
Firmly resolved this time to remain master of his sensations, Daniel had
stopped in the middle of the room, as stiff as a statue.
“Don’t you know, madam, what brings me here? All your combinations have
succeeded admirably; you triumph, and we surrender.”