CHAPTER XXVI
A GOOD MEMORY
After Phillis, Nougarde also wished him to see Madame Dammauville; this coincidence was not the least danger of the situation that opened before him.
If he saw her, the chances were that she would recognize in him the man who drew the curtains; for, if he was able to speak to Phillis and Nougarede of an affection of the eyes or of the mind, he did not believe in these affections, which for him were only makeshifts.
When he reached Madame Cormier's, Phillis had not returned, and he was obliged to explain to the uneasy mother why her daughter was late.
It was a delirium of joy, before which he felt embarrassed. How should he break the hope of this unhappy mother?
What he had said to Phillis and to Nougarede he repeated to her.
"But it is possible, also, for paralytics to enjoy all their faculties!" Madame Cormier said, with a decision that was not in accordance with her habit or with her character.
"Assuredly."
"Am I not an example?"
"Without doubt."
"Then Florentin will be saved."
"This is what we hope. I only caution you against an excess of joy by an excess of prudence. Nevertheless, it is probable Mademoiselle Phillis will settle this for us when she returns."
"Perhaps it would have been better if you had gone to the Rue Sainte-
Anne. You would have found her."
There was, then, a universal mania to send him to the Rue Sainte-Anne!
They waited, but the conversation was difficult and slow between them. It was neither of Phillis nor of Florentin that Saniel thought; it was of himself and of his own fears; while Madame Cormier's thoughts ran to Phillis. Then there were long silences that Madame Cormier interrupted by going to the kitchen to look after her dinner, that had been ready since two o'clock.
Not knowing what to say or do in the presence of Saniel's sombre face and preoccupation, which she could not explain, she asked him if he had dined.
"Not yet."
"If you will accept a plate of soup, I have some of yesterday's bouillon, that Phillis did not find bad."
But he did not accept, which hurt Madame Cormier. For a long time Saniel had been a sort of god to her, and since he had shown so much zeal regarding Florentin, the 'culte' was become more fervent.
At last Phillis's step was heard.
"What! You came to tell mamma!" she exclaimed, on seeing Saniel.
Ordinarily her mother listened to her respectfully, but now she interrupted her.
"And Madame Dammauville?" she asked.
"Madame Dammauville has excellent eyes. She is a woman of intellect, who, without the assistance of any business man, manages her fortune."
Overcome, Madame Cormier fell into a chair.
"Oh, the poor child!" she murmured.
Exclamations of joy escaped her which contained but little sense.
"It is as I thought," Saniel said; "but it would be imprudent to abandon ourselves to hopes to-day that to-morrow may destroy."
While he spoke he escaped, at least, from the embarrassment of his position and from the examination of Phillis.
"What did Monsieur Nougarde say?" she asked.
"I will explain to you presently. Begin by telling us what you learned from Madame Dammauville. It is her condition that will decide our course, at least that which Nougarde counsels us to adopt."
"When the concierge saw me return," Phillis began, "she showed a certain surprise; but she is a good woman, who is easily tamed, and I had not much trouble in making her tell me all she knows of Madame Dammauville. Three years ago Madame Dammauville became a widow without children. She is about forty years of age, and since her widowhood has lived in her house in the Rue Sainte-Anne. Until last year she was not ill, but she went every year to the springs at Lamoulon. It is a year since she was taken with pains that were thought to be rheumatic, following which, paralysis attacked her and confined her to her bed. She suffers so much sometimes that she cries, but these are spasms that do not last. In the intervals she lives the ordinary life, except that she does not get up. She reads a great deal, receives her friends, her sister-in-law—widow of a notary—her nephews and nieces, and one of the vicars of the parish, for she is very charitable. Her eyes are excellent. She has never had delirium or hallucinations. She is very reserved, detests gossip, and above everything seeks to live quietly. The assassination of Caffie exasperated her; she would let no one speak to her of him, and she spoke of it to no one. She even said that if she were in a condition to leave her house, she would sell it, so that she would never hear the name of Caffie."
"How did she speak of the portrait and of the man she saw in Caffie's office?" Saniel asked.
"That is exactly the question that the concierge was not able to answer; so I decided to go to see Madame Dammauville again."
"You are courageous," the mother said with pride.
"I assure you that I was not so on going up-stairs. After what I had heard of her character, it was truly audacious to go a second time, after an interval of two hours, to trouble her, but it was necessary. While ascending, I sought a reason to justify, or, at least, to explain my second visit, and I found only an adventurous one, for which I ought to ask your indulgence."
She said this on turning toward Saniel, but with lowered eyes, without daring to look at him, and with an emotion that made him uneasy.
"My indulgence?" he said.
"I acted without having time to reflect, and under the pressure of immediate need. As Madame Dammauville expressed surprise at seeing me again, I told her that what she had said to me was so serious, and might have such consequences for the life and honor of my brother, that I had thought of returning the next day, accompanied by a person familiar with the affair, before whom she would repeat her story; and that I came to ask her permission to present this person. This person is yourself."
"I!"
"And that is why," she said feebly, without raising her eyes, "that I have need of your indulgence."
"But I had told you—" he exclaimed with a violence that the dissatisfaction at being so disposed of was not sufficient to justify.
"That you could not present yourself to Madame Dammauville in the character of a physician unless she sent for you. I did not forget that; and it is not as a physician that I wish to beg you to accompany me, but as a friend, if you permit me to speak thus; as the most devoted, the most firm, and the most generous friend that we have had the happiness to encounter in our distress."
"My daughter speaks in my name, as in her own," Madame Cormier said with emotion; "I add that it is a respectful friendship, a profound gratitude, that we feel toward you."
Although Phillis trembled to see the effect that she produced on Saniel, she continued with firmness:
"You would accompany me, then, without doing anything ostensibly, without saying you are a doctor, and while she talks you could examine her. Madame Dammauville gave her consent to my request with extreme kindness. I shall return to her to-morrow, and if you think it useful, if you think you should accept the part that I claimed for you without consulting you, you can accompany me."
He did not reply to these last words, which were an invitation as well as a question.
"Did you not examine her as I told you?" he asked, after a moment of reflection.
"With all the attention of which I was capable in my anguish. Her glance seemed to me straight and untroubled.; her voice is regular, very rhythmical; her words follow each other without hesitation; her ideas are consecutive and clearly expressed. There is no trace of suffering on her pale face, which bears only the mark of a resigned grief. She moves her arms freely, but the legs, so far as I could judge under the bedclothes, are motionless. In many ways it seems to me that her paralysis resembles mamma's, though it is true that in others it does not. She must be extremely sensitive to the cold, for although the weather is not cold today, the temperature of her room seemed very high."
"This is an examination," Saniel said, "that a physician could not have conducted better, unless he questioned the patient; and had I been with you during this visit we should not have learned anything more. It appears certain that Madame Dammauville is in possession of her faculties, which renders her testimony invulnerable."
Madame Cormier drew her daughter to her and kissed her passionately.
"I have, therefore, nothing to do with this lady," continued Saniel, with the precipitation of a man who has just escaped a danger. "But your part, Mademoiselle, is not finished, and you must return to her tomorrow to fulfil that which Nougarde confides to you."
He explained what Nougarde expected of her.
"Certainly," she said. "I will do all that I am advised to do for Florentin. I will go to Madame Dammauville; I will go everywhere. But will you permit me to express my astonishment that immediate profit is not made of this declaration to obtain the release of my brother?"
He repeated the reasons that Nougarede had given him for not proceeding in this manner.
"I would not say anything that resembles a reproach," said Madame Cormier, with more decision than she ordinarily put into her words; "but perhaps Monsieur Nougarde has some personal ideas in his advice. Our interest is that Florentin should return to us as quickly as possible, and that he should be spared the sufferings of a prison. But I understand that to an 'ordonnance de non-lieu', in which he does not appear, Monsieur Nougarde prefers the broad light of the court, where he could deliver a brilliant address, useful to his reputation."
"Whether or not he has made this calculation," Saniel said, "things are thus. I, also, I should have preferred the 'ordonnance de non-lieu', which has the great advantage of finishing everything immediately. Nougarede does not believe that this would be a good plan to follow, so we must follow the one that he traces out for us."
"We will follow it," Phillis said, "and I believe that it may bring about the result Monsieur Nougarede expects, as Madame Dammauville would have spoken to but few persons. When I tried to make her explain herself on this point, without asking her the question directly, she told me that she had only spoken to the concierge of the non-resemblance of the portrait to the man she saw draw the curtains, so that the concierge, who had often spoken to her of Florentin and of my efforts to save him, might warn me. I shall see, then, to-morrow, how far her story has spread, and I will go to see you about it at five o'clock, unless you prefer that I should go at once to see Monsieur Nougarede."
"Begin with me, and we will go together to see him, if there is occasion.
I am going to write to him."
"If I understand Monsieur Nougarde's plan, it seems that it rests on Madame Dammauville's appearance in court. Will this appearance be possible? That is what I could not learn; only a physician could tell."
Saniel did not wish to let it appear that he understood this new challenge.
"I forgot to tell you," Phillis continued, "that the physician who attends her is Doctor Balzajette of the Rue de l'Echelle. Do you know him?"
"A prig, who conceals his ignorance under dignified manners."
No sooner had these words left his lips than he realized his error. Madame Dammauville should have an excellent physician, one who was so high in the estimation of his 'confreres' that, if he did not cure her, it was because she was incurable.
"Then how can you hope that he will cure her in time for her to go to court?" Phillis asked.
He did not answer, and rose to go. Timidly, Madame Cormier repeated her invitation, but he did not accept it, in spite of the tender glance that Phillis gave him.