MADAME DE GRAMONT.
The countess entered the room casting disdainful glances around her.
Madeleine, who could not suspect the object of her visit, accosted her
in astonishment.
"You, madame, beneath my roof; this is an unhoped-for condescension!"
"Do not imagine that I come to be classed among your customers, and
order my dresses of you," returned the countess, disdainfully, and
waving Madeleine off as the latter advanced toward her.
Bertha felt strongly inclined to quote from a former remark of Gaston de
Bois, and retort, "You have done that already, and the transaction was
not particularly profitable," but she restrained herself.
"Nor do I come," continued the imperious lady, "as one who stoops to be
your visitor! I came to rebuke impertinence, and to demand by what right
you have dared to make use of my name as a cloak to give respectability
to _charities_ forced upon your poor relations."
Madeleine was silent.
"Then the aid which came to me at such an opportune moment _was_ yours,
Madeleine?" said Maurice. "It was you who saved me from worse than
ruin?"
Still no answer from Madeleine's quivering lips.
"Do not force her to say,--do not force her to acknowledge her own
goodness and liberality," said Bertha, "we all know that it _was_ she,
and she will not deny it. Does not her silence speak for her?"
"You thought, perhaps," resumed the countess, even more angrily than
before, "that because my son has flown in the face of my wishes, and has
mingled himself up with business matters, and because Maurice has chosen
to degrade himself by entering a profession,--you thought that you might
take the liberty of coming to his assistance, in some temporary
difficulty, and might also be pardoned the insolence of using my name;
but I resent the impertinence; I will not permit it to pass uncorrected!
I will write to the person whom you have deceived and let him know that
the name of the Countess de Gramont has been used without her authority.
I shall also inquire at whose suggestion he ventured to address an
epistle to me."
"No need of that, madame," said M. de Bois, who had entered the room in
time to hear this burst of indignation. "_I_, alone, am to blame for the
liberty of using your name. Knowing how desirous Mademoiselle de Gramont
was to conceal her relationship to your family, I suggested that the
money indispensable to her cousin should be sent in such a manner that
it might be supposed to come from you. I also took the responsibility of
suggesting to Mr. Emerson that it would be well to send a line to you,
enclosing a receipt for the sum paid into his hands by me; one of my
motives was to insure that the news of its payment would at once reach
Maurice."
"You presumed unwarrantably, sir," replied the countess. "You presumed
almost as much as did Mademoiselle de Gramont, in supposing that she
could use the money acquired in a manner so degrading to our _noble
house_ for the benefit of my grandson."
"That money, madame," rejoined M. de Bois, warmly, "has saved the honor
of your _noble house_! I will leave you to learn of Count Tristan how it
was imperilled, and how it would have been sullied but for Mademoiselle
Madeleine's timely aid."
"It has been _sullied_," began the countess.
"Not by Mademoiselle de Gramont," returned M. de Bois. "Once more, I
tell you that she has saved your escutcheon from a stain which could
never have been effaced. And for this act you spurn her, you scorn her
generosity; you tell her she is not worthy of rendering you a service,
instead of bowing down before her as you,--as we all might well do, in
reverence and admiration; thanking Heaven that such a woman has been
placed in the world, as a glorious example to her own sex, and an
inspiration to ours. The burden of her nobility has not crushed the
noble instincts of her heart, or paralyzed her noble hands. But you do
not know all yet; you owe her another debt"--
"Another debt?" Count Tristan was the first to exclaim.
"Yes," continued M. de Bois, in a tone of pride, "through her influence,
the influence of the duchess-mantua-maker, the votes you could never
otherwise have secured have been obtained; the committee met an hour
ago, and the road to the left, which you so much desired, has been
decided upon, and this, this too, you owe to Mademoiselle Madeleine's
exertions."
Neither Maurice nor Count Tristan was allowed to speak, for M. de Bois
went on without pause,--
"And do you deem _this, too_, madame, an impertinence, a presumption, a
crime, upon the part of your niece? Do you say that this is a favor
which you desire to reject? Happily it is not in your power! And now,
after she has been cast off, despised, and denounced by you and your
son, you are bound to come to her with thanks, if not to implore her
pardon."
"Sir," answered the countess, "you have forgotten yourself in a manner
which astonishes me, and must astonish all who hear you; and henceforth,
I beg you to understand"--
Bertha prevented the sentence of banishment, which the countess was
about to pronounce against M. de Bois, from being completed, by saying,
abruptly,--
"You will readily understand, M. de Bois, that we are so much surprised
that astonishment deprives us of fitting words."
Maurice now turned to Madeleine and said, with the emotion of a
genuinely manly nature which is not ashamed to receive a benefit,--
"To owe you so much is not oppressive to me, Madeleine. There is no
being on earth, man or woman, to whom I would so willingly be indebted.
I know the happiness it confers upon you to be able to do what you have
done. I know your thankfulness is greater even than mine; though how
great that is, even you cannot"--
"What, Maurice!" broke in the countess; "are you so thoroughly without
pride or self-respect that you talk of accepting the bounty of
Mademoiselle de Gramont? You consent to receive this charity doled out
by the hands of a _mantua-maker_?"
Maurice grew livid with suppressed anger at this new insult, because it
was levelled at Madeleine, rather than at himself.
"My grandmother, when you are calmer, and when I myself am calmer, I
will speak to you on this subject."
"How pale you look, Madeleine!" cried Bertha, suddenly. "Surely you are
ill!"
These words caused Maurice and M. de Bois to spring to the side of
Madeleine. Her strength had been over-taxed by the emotions of the last
few days, and it suddenly gave way. It was by a strong effort of
volition that she prevented herself from fainting. Maurice, who had
caught her in his arms, placed her tenderly in a chair, and for a moment
her beautiful head fell upon his shoulder; but she struggled against the
insensibility which was stealing over her, and feebly waved her hand in
the direction of a small table upon which stood a tumbler and a carafe
of water. M. de Bois poured some water into the glass and would have
held it to her lips; but Maurice took the tumbler from him, and, as
Madeleine drank, the delight of ministering to her overcame his alarm at
her indisposition, and sent shivering through his frame a thrill of
almost rapture.
In a few moments she lifted her eyes over which the lids had drooped
heavily, and, trying to smile, sat up and made an effort to speak; but
the pale lips moved without sound, and her countenance still wore a
ghastly hue.
"Are you better, my own dear Madeleine? What can I do for you?" asked
Bertha, who was kneeling in front of her.
Madeleine murmured faintly,--
"I would like to be left alone, dear. Forgive me for sending you away. I
shall soon be better when I am alone."
"Impossible, Madeleine!" cried Maurice, his arm still about her waist.
"You will not ask _me_ to leave you."
Perhaps she only at that moment became conscious of the supporting arm;
for she gently drew herself away, and the palest rose began to tinge her
ashy cheek; but it deepened into a sudden crimson flush, as she saw the
eyes of the countess angrily fixed upon her.
"Yes, Maurice, do not refuse me. I am better,--I am quite well." And she
rose up, forcing her limbs to obey her will. Then, leaning on Bertha's
shoulder, whispered, "I entreat you, dear, to make them go,--make them
_all_ go; I cannot bear more at this moment. Spare me, if you love me!"
"O Madeleine, how can you?" began Bertha.
But M. de Bois, who had perfect reliance in Madeleine's judgment, felt
certain that she herself knew what was best for her, and said,--
"Mademoiselle de Gramont will be better alone. If she will allow me, I
will apprise Miss Thornton of her indisposition, and we will take our
leave."
Madeleine smiled assent, and sank into her seat; for her limbs were
faltering.
M. de Bois could not have uttered words better calculated to induce the
countess to take her leave. She had no desire to be found in the boudoir
of the mantua-maker by any of Madeleine's friends. She said,
commandingly,--
"Bertha--Maurice--I desire you to accompany my son and myself.
Mademoiselle de Gramont, though my errand here is not fully
accomplished, I wish you good morning."
Neither Bertha nor Maurice showed the slightest disposition to obey the
order of the countess, but Madeleine said, pleadingly,--
"Go--go--I pray you! You cannot help me so much as by going."
They both began to remonstrate; but she checked them by the pressure of
her trembling fingers, for each held one of her hands, and said,
pleadingly,--
"Do not speak to me now,--another time,--when you will; but not _now_."
There was something so beseeching in her voice that it was impossible to
resist its appeal. Bertha embraced her in silence; Maurice pressed the
hand that lay in his to his lips; and both followed the countess out of
the room.
Count Tristan took the hand Maurice had relinquished, and, giving a
glance at the retreating figure of the countess, commenced speaking; but
Madeleine interrupted him with,--
"Another time, I beg. Leave me now."
Just then Gaston de Bois entered, accompanied by Ruth, and, reading
Madeleine's wishes in her eyes, placed his arm through that of the
count, and conducted him out of the room, closing the door behind him.