But Clarisse had hardly rejoined her husband, when a letter reached her from Pontivy telling her that if she wished to hear her father's last words she must come at once. She returned to France almost beside herself with grief, giving her whole soul to her husband in a parting kiss.
It was to be their last.
Misfortune followed misfortune with astounding rapidity. Monsieur de Mauluçon and Jacques de Pontivy soon landed at Saint-Paire, and joined the Vendean army. At the first encounter Jacques was killed by a Republican bullet, and Monsieur de Mauluçon mortally wounded. He was secretly conveyed to London with other wounded royalists, and in spite of the fraternal welcome and care he found under the roof of the faithful friend who had always received them with open arms, he died there of his wounds. Clarisse learnt her double bereavement at the time when her father was breathing his last.
Thus she became a widow and an orphan in that brief space of time.
Prostrated by this double blow, she was for some time at death's door. When she came to herself after a delirium which lasted nearly a week, she saw her children—for Marie Thérèse, now doubly orphaned, was more her child than ever—seated at her bedside awaiting in unspeakable anxiety her return to consciousness. She drew them to her, and covered them with kisses.
"Console yourselves," she said, "I shall live, since you are here."
At this moment a man advanced smilingly towards her, his eyes glistening with tears of joy.
"Leonard!" she said, "you here?"
It was an old servant of Monsieur de Pontivy, who had come in all haste from Montmorency, where he lived, to attend the funeral of his late master.
"Ah!" he cried, "Madame can rest assured Leonard will not leave her till she is herself again."