"How clever you are," she cried; and forthwith began to finish her dressing with feverish haste, her one thought now to fly.
I called up Ernestine, who started on seeing me as though I were a ghost. I explained that urgent reasons had caused her mistress to change her plans; and before Madame d'Artelle had finished dressing, the baggage was on its way to the station.
"What will you do about things here, Henriette?"
"I don't know. I don't care. In face of this I can do nothing."
"Count Karl will be disappointed and his brother angry."
"My life is in danger, would you have me think of anything else? Mother of Heaven, do you think I will be murdered to please a hundred counts?"
"Some one must see to things."
"Let me only get away and I care for nothing else." This was precisely the mood I desired her to be in. She was literally fear-possessed, and flight had become the one all-absorbing passionate desire.
I said no more until we were in the fly hurrying to the station. I meant to see the last of her.
"What of to-night's business—Count Karl?"