"Go, go, /now/," faltered Valerie, almost choked with her emotions; "may
Heaven bless you! Go!"
Maltravers muttered a few inaudible and incoherent words, and quitted the apartment.
CHAPTER V.
"The men of sense, those idols of the shallow, are very inferior to the men of Passions. It is the strong passions which, rescuing us from sloth, can alone impart to us that continuous and earnest attention necessary to great intellectual efforts."—HELVETIUS.
WHEN Ferrers returned that day from his customary ride, he was surprised to see the lobbies and hall of the apartment which he occupied in common with Maltravers, littered with bags and /malles/, boxes and books, and Ernest's Swiss valet directing porters and waiters in a mosaic of French, English, and Italian.
"Well!" said Lumley, "and what is all this?"
"Il signore va partir, sare, ah! mon Dieu!—/tout/ of a sudden."
"O-h! and where is he now!"
"In his room, sare."
Over the chaos strode Ferrers, and opening the door of his friend's dressing-room without ceremony, he saw Maltravers buried in a fauteuil, with his hands drooping on his knees, his head bent over his breast, and his whole attitude expressive of dejection and exhaustion.