"But why did you not speak to her?"
"A feeling which I can scarcely define withheld me. At first I thought I was dreaming, and that the dream would be broken if I spoke or moved. Then I felt sure Madeleine was there, but that she believed herself unrecognized, and if I showed that I knew her she would leave me,—leave me when I could not follow, and must again have lost all trace of her. It was such a luxury, such a joy to feel her by my side! It was her presence and not the skill of the physician which restored me."
"And you never once betrayed yourself?"
"No. What seems most singular is that from the very day I mentioned to M. de Bois that I had seen her, she came no more. Yet how could she have learned, or divined, that I knew her?"
"That circumstance, dear Maurice, makes it all look like a dream. As soon as the fever left you the phantom it conjured up disappeared."
Maurice shook his head, unconvinced, and Bertha was too willing to be deceived herself to attempt to persuade him that he was in error.
The Marquis de Merrivale now entered. Maurice, whom he had only known slightly, rose in favor when the epicure found that the young Parisian could give all requisite information concerning the best restaurants in Paris; and the viscount reached a higher summit of esteem, when he promptly promised to put Lucien en train to familiarize himself with certain valuable culinary discoveries. Maurice knew enough of the character of the marquis to be confident that his stay in the metropolis would be determined by the amount of comfort he enjoyed, and the quality of the dinners set before him.
Bertha's next visit was from M. de Bois, and could she have banished from her mind a vague impression that he loved Madeleine, or was beloved by her, the interview would have afforded her unmitigated happiness.
M. de Bois had not yet gained sufficient mastery over himself to command his utterance in the presence of the woman who had most power to confuse him. He still stammered painfully; but he could not help remarking that, even as Madeleine had said, Bertha finished his broken sentences, apparently unaware that she was doing so. And her greeting, surely it had been far from cold. And did she not say, with a soft emphasis which it almost took away his breath to hear, that it seemed an age since they met? Had she then felt the time long? And did she not drop some involuntary remark concerning the dulness of Brittany after he and Maurice left? Had she not coupled him with her cousin? Might he not dare to believe that Madeleine was right, and Bertha certainly did not scorn him?