“And yet that may be our salvation. Yes, certainly. Why should I
hesitate? Wait for me here: I am coming back.”
She hurried out. Her grandpapa was about to follow her; but M. Folgat
stopped him.
“Let her do it,” he said,--“let her do it!”
It had just struck ten o’clock. The court-house, just now as full and as
noisy as a bee-hive, was silent and deserted. In the immense hall, badly
lighted by a smoking lamp, there were only two men to be seen. One was
the priest from Brechy, who was praying on his knees close to a door;
and the other was the watchman, who was slowly walking up and down, and
whose steps resounded there as in a church.
Dionysia went straight up to the latter.
“Where is Count Claudieuse?” she asked.
“There, madam,” replied the man, pointing at the door before which the
priest was praying,--“there, in the private office of the commonwealth
attorney.”
“Who is with him?”
“His wife, madam, and a servant.”
“Well, go in and tell the Countess Claudieuse,--but so that her
husband does not hear you,--that Miss Chandore desires to see her a few
moments.”
The watchman made no objection, and went in. But, when he came back, he
said to the young girl,--
“Madam, the countess sends word that she cannot leave her husband, who
is very low.”