“Perhaps you are right, sir.”
“Now,” continued M. de Brevan, “let us see what they would do if they
should discover you. You are not of age, consequently you are entirely
dependent on the will of your father. Under the inspiration of your
step-mother, he would attack Daniel’s aunt, on the score of having
inveigled a minor, and would bring you back here.”
She seemed to reflect; then she said suddenly,--“I can implore the
assistance of the Duchess of Champdoce.”
“Unfortunately, madam, they told you the truth. For a year now, the Duke
of Champdoce and his wife have been travelling in Italy.”
A gesture of despair betrayed the terrible dejection of the poor girl.
“Great God!” she said, “what must I do?”
A passing smile appeared on the face of M. de Brevan; and he answered in
his most persuasive manner,--
“Will you permit me to offer you some advice, madam?”
“Alas, sir! I beg you to do so for Heaven’s sake.”
“Well, this is the only plan that seems to me feasible. To-morrow
morning I will rent in a quiet house a suitable lodging, less than
modest, a little chamber. You will move into it, and await there your
coming of age, or Daniel’s return. No detective will ever think of
seeking the daughter of Count Ville-Handry in a poor needlewoman’s
garret.”
“And I am to stay there alone, forsaken and lost?”
“It is a sacrifice which it seems to me you have to make for safety’s
sake.”
She said nothing, weighing the two alternatives,--to remain in the
house, or to accept M. de Brevan’s proposition. After a minute she
said,--
“I will follow your advice, sir; only”--She was evidently painfully
embarrassed, and covered with blushes.
“You see,” she said, after long hesitation, “all this will cost money.
Formerly I used to have always a couple of hundred dollars in my drawers
somewhere; but now”--
“Madam,” broke in M. de Brevan, “madam, is not my whole fortune entirely
at your disposal?”
“To be sure, I have my jewels; and they are quite valuable.”
“For that very reason you ought to be careful not to take them with you.
We must guard against every thing. We may fail. They may discover
my share in the attempt; and who knows what charges they would raise
against me?”
His apprehension alone betrayed the character of the man; and still it
did not enlighten Henrietta.
“Well, prepare every thing as you think best, sir,” she said sadly. “I
rely entirely upon your friendship, your devotion, and your honor.”
M. de Brevan had a slight attack of coughing, which prevented him from
answering at first. Then, finding that Henrietta was bent upon escaping,
he tried to devise the means.
Henrietta proposed that they should wait for a night when the count
would take the countess to a ball. She might then slip into the garden,
and climb the wall. But the attempt seemed to be too dangerous in M. de
Brevan’s eyes. He said,--
“I think I see something better. Count Ville-Handry is going soon to
give a great party?”
“The day after to-morrow, Thursday.”
“All right. On Thursday, madam, you will complain early in the morning
already, of a bad headache, and you will send for the doctor. He will
prescribe something, I dare say, which you will not take; but they will
think you are sick, and they will watch you less carefully. At night,
however, towards ten o’clock, you will come down and conceal yourself at
the foot of the back-stairs, in the corner of the courtyard. You can do
that, I presume?”
“Very easily, sir.”
“In that case all will be right. I will be here with a carriage at ten
o’clock precisely. My coachman, whom I will instruct beforehand, instead
of stopping at the great entrance, will pretend to go amiss, and stop
just at the foot of the staircase. I will jump out; and you, you will
swiftly jump into the carriage.”
“Yes, that also can be done.”
“As the curtains will be down, no one will see you. The carriage will
drive out again, and wait for me outside; and ten minutes later I shall
have joined you.”
The plan being adopted, as every thing depended upon punctuality, M. de
Brevan regulated his watch by Henrietta’s; and then, rising, he said,--
“We have already conversed longer than we ought to have done in
prudence. I shall not speak to you again to-night. Till Thursday.”