“You are acquainted, without doubt, with the state of health of M. le Comte de la Fere?” said Louise, after breathing that sigh which had revealed so many griefs in its eloquent utterance.
“No, mademoiselle,” replied Raoul, “I have not yet paid my respects to my father; I was going to his house when Mademoiselle de Montalais so kindly stopped me. I hope the comte is well. You have heard nothing to the contrary, have you?”
“No, M. Raoul—nothing, thank God!”
Here, for several instants, ensued a silence, during which two spirits, which followed the same idea, communicated perfectly, without even the assistance of a single glance.
“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Montalais in a fright; “there is somebody coming up.”
“Who can it be?” said Louise, rising in great agitation.
“Mesdemoiselles, I inconvenience you very much. I have, without doubt, been very indiscreet,” stammered Raoul, very ill at ease.
“It is a heavy step,” said Louise.
“Ah! if it is only M. Malicorne,” added Montalais, “do not disturb yourselves.”
Louise and Raoul looked at each other to inquire who M. Malicorne could be.