"I think my father is decidedly improving," said Maurice, as he entered. "I feel certain he recognized me to-day, and I thought he attempted to pronounce my name."
A faint light gleamed in the eyes of the countess at these words, but it was quenched by those which followed.
"Madeleine, he always seems to know, and he evidently likes to have her near him. His eyes wander after her when she leaves the room, and to-day, I thought he tried to smile when she returned."
"He is better then; it will soon be possible to move him; he can soon have that care which should be most acceptable to every son, and, I trust, has ever been to mine."
The countess made this assertion proudly, in spite of the deep wound she had received through her son's recognition of Madeleine; she had tried to forget that blow, or to persuade herself that it had not been dealt.
Maurice did not know what answer to make, and remained silent.
"Aunt, you would not think of having cousin Tristan brought here until he is nearly well,—that is, well enough to walk about,—would you?" asked Bertha; and her accents expressed her disapproval of such an attempt.
"He shall come the very moment that it is possible! Do you suppose that I would submit to his remaining where he is one instant longer than is absolutely necessary?"
No reply to this declaration was needed or expected. Maurice returned to Madeleine's house with a sense of thankfulness that the count's seizure had taken place where it did.