“He is here, Madame,” said he, standing close behind her, “in the room above there. He is somewhat better than he has been, and as strong in his mind as ever. He has been most anxious for your arrival,” and then he led the way into the hotel, pushing aside the crowd to the right and to the left; and within five minutes from the time of their entering the town, the two ladies found themselves on the stairs immediately outside the chamber in which was lying the object of all their present anxiety.
For the last four days and four nights, it had been the first and only desire of Madame de Lescure to be with her husband; and now that she was so near him she dreaded to open the door. “Who is with him?” said she, speaking in a whisper, and trembling from head to foot, so that she could hardly stand.
“The little Chevalier is with him always,” said the aubergiste, who had followed them up the stairs: “he never leaves him, now that M. Henri is obliged to be away.”
“Hadn’t I better go in, perhaps,” said Chapeau, “and send the Chevalier out? I can tell M. de Lescure that Madame is here; it might be too much for Monsieur to see her all at once.”
Without waiting for an answer, Chapeau knocked at the door and went in, while the two ladies sat down on the nearest step, dreading almost to breathe in their intense anxiety; in a few seconds Arthur Mondyon came out, and taking a hand of each of his two friends, pressed them to his lips.
“He knows you are here,” said he to Madame de Lescure, “and you are to go into him alone. Marie and I will go down stairs until he sends for us. Be tranquil as you can, while you are with him; you will find him as calm as ever.”
She rose, and entered the room on tiptoe, as Chapeau left it; her face was as pale as marble, and her heart beat so violently that she felt that she would hardly be able to reach the chair at the bed-side. De Lescure was lying on a decent but very humble bed, at the farthest end of a large room, in which there were three or four other bedsteads, and an enormous number of common deal chairs and tables piled one a-top of another. He was propped up in the bed on pillows, and as he turned his eyes towards the door, the full light of the sun shone upon his face, and gave an especial ghastliness to its pallor.
Madame de Lescure tried to control herself; but in such moments the feelings of the heart overcome the reason, and the motions of the body are governed by passion alone. In an instant her face was on his bosom, and her arms were locked closely round his body.
“Victorine—my own Victorine,” said he, “my greatest grief is over now. I feared that we were not to meet again, and that thought alone was almost too much for my courage.”
She was for a time unable to articulate a word. He felt her warm tears as she convulsively pressed her cheek against his breast; he felt the violent throbs of her loving heart, and allowed her a few minutes before he asked her to speak to him. She had thrown off the hat which she had worn before entering the room, and he now gently smoothed her ruffled hair with his hand, and collected together the loose tresses which had escaped down her neck.