I ought rather to ask you that question, said Louis in some confusion, for I believe you have seen them since I have; and the pleasure of meeting you thus is equalled by my surprise. I have not heard from my father for some time, owing probably to my regiment being removed to new quarters.
He looked as if he wished to be informed with whom Adeline now was; but as this was a subject upon which it was impossible she could speak in the presence of La Luc, she led the conversation to general topics, after having said that Monsieur and Madame La Motte were well when she left them. Louis spoke little, and often looked anxiously at Adeline, while his mind seemed labouring under strong oppression. She observed this, and recollecting the declaration he had made her on the morning of his departure from the abbey, she attributed his present embarrassment to the effect of a passion yet unsubdued, and did not appear to notice it. After he had sat near a quarter of an hour, under a struggle of feelings which he could neither conquer nor conceal, he rose to leave the room; and as he passed Adeline, said, in a low voice, Do permit me to speak with you alone for five minutes. She hesitated in some confusion, and then, saying there were none but friends present, begged he would be seated.—Excuse me, said he, in the same low accent; what I would say nearly concerns you, and you only. Do favour me with a few moments' attention. He said this with a look that surprised her; and having ordered candles in another room, she went thither.
Louis sat for some moments silent, and seemingly in great perturbation of mind. At length he said, I know not whether to rejoice or to lament at this unexpected meeting, though, if you are in safe hands, I ought certainly to rejoice, however hard the task that now falls to my lot. I am not ignorant of the dangers and persecutions you have suffered, and cannot forbear expressing my anxiety to know how you are now circumstanced. Are you indeed with friends?—I am, said Adeline; M. La Motte has informed you——No, replied Louis with a deep sigh, not my father.—He paused.—But I do indeed rejoice, resumed he, O! how sincerely rejoice! that you are in safety. Could you know, lovely Adeline, what I have suffered!—He checked himself.—I understood you had something of importance to say, Sir, said Adeline; you must excuse me if I remind you that I have not many moments to spare.
It is indeed of importance, replied Louis; yet I know not how to mention it—how to soften——This task is too severe. Alas! my poor friend!
Whom is it you speak of, Sir? said Adeline with quickness. Louis rose from his chair and walked about the room. I would prepare you for what I have to say, he resumed, but upon my soul I am not equal to it.
I entreat you to keep me no longer in suspense, said Adeline, who had a wild idea that it was Theodore he would speak of. Louis still hesitated. Is it—O! is it?—I conjure you tell me the worst at once, said she in a voice of agony. I can bear it,—indeed I can.
My unhappy friend! exclaimed Louis. O! Theodore!—Theodore! faintly articulated Adeline; he lives then!—He does, said Louis, but—He stopped.—But what? cried Adeline, trembling violently; if he is living, you cannot tell me worse than my fears suggest; I entreat you therefore not to hesitate.—Louis resumed his seat and, endeavouring to assume a collected air, said, He is living, Madame, but he is a prisoner; and—for why should I deceive you? I fear he has little to hope in this world.
I have long feared so, Sir, said Adeline in a voice of forced composure; you have something more terrible than this to relate, and I again entreat you will explain yourself.
He has every thing to apprehend from the Marquis de Montalt, said Louis. Alas! why do I say to apprehend? His judgment is already fixed—he is condemned to die.
At this confirmation of her fears, a death-like paleness diffused itself over the countenance of Adeline; she sat motionless, and attempted to sigh, but seemed almost suffocated. Terrified at her situation, and expecting to see her faint, Louis would have supported her, but with her hand she waved him from her, and was unable to speak. He now called for assistance, and La Luc and Clara, with M. Verneuil, informed of Adeline's indisposition, were quickly by her side.