The servant closed the door on her master and mistress.
"I was told you had recently returned home? Am I rude in following you indoors so closely?" he asked.
"No, you are welcome, my lord," she tremblingly replied. "I was so uneasy that I left the house to learn what had happened."
"Were you long out?"
"Since morning; I was first out to St. Martin's Bars, and then went to the Champs Elysees; there I saw—" she hesitated—"I saw the Royal Family—you, and momentarily I was set at ease, though I feared for you when the carriage should set you down. Then I went into the Tuileries Gardens, where I thought I should have died."
"Yes, the crowd was great; you were crushed, and I understand——"
"No," said Andrea, shaking her head, "that was not it. I inquired and learned that you were unhurt, so that I hastened home to thank God on my knees."
"Since you are so, praying, say a word for my poor brother."
"Isidore—poor youth! was it he, then?" exclaimed Andrea.
She let her head sink on her hands. Charny stepped forward a few steps to regard the chaste creature at her devotions. In his look was immense commiseration, together with a longing restrained.