"Crystal," said M. le Comte firmly, as he stood his ground between his daughter and the door, "you cannot go rushing through the streets of Brussels alone—at this hour of the night—through all the soldiery and all the drunken rabble."
"He is dying," she retorted, "and I am going to find him. . . ."
"You have taken leave of your senses, Crystal," said the Comte sternly. "You seem to have forgotten your own personal dignity. . . ."
"Father! let me go!" she demanded—for she had tried to measure her physical strength against his, and he was holding her wrists now whilst a look of great anger was on his face.
"I tell you, Crystal," he said, "that you cannot go. I will do all that lies in my power in the matter: I promise you: and Maurice," he added harshly, "if he has a spark of manhood left in him will do his best to second me . . . but I cannot allow my daughter to go into the streets at this hour of the night."
"But you cannot prevent your sister from doing as she likes," here broke in a tart voice from the back of the corridor. "Crystal, child! try and bear up while I run to the English hospital first and, if necessary, to the English doctor afterwards. And you, Monsieur my brother, be good enough to allow Jeanne to open the door for me."
And Madame la Duchesse d'Agen in bonnet and shawl, helpful and practical, made her way quietly to the door, preceded by faithful Jeanne. With a cry of infinite relief—almost of happiness—Crystal at last managed to disengage herself from her father's grasp and ran to the old woman: "Ma tante," she said imploringly, "take me with you . . . if I do not go to find him now . . . at once . . . my heart will break."
M. le Comte shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. He knew that in an argument with his sister, he would surely be worsted: and there was a look in Madame's face which, even in this dim twilight, he knew how to interpret. It meant that Madame would carry out her programme just as she had stated it, and that she would take Crystal with her—with or without the father's consent. So, realising this, M. le Comte had but one course left open to him and that was to safeguard his own dignity by making the best of this situation—of which he still highly disapproved.
"Well, my dear Sophie," he said, "I suppose if you insist on having your way, you must have it: though what the women of our rank are coming to nowadays I cannot imagine. At the same time I for my part must insist that Crystal at least puts on a bonnet and shawl and does not career about the streets dressed like a kitchen wench."
"Crystal," whispered Madame, who was nothing if not practical, "do as your father wishes—it will save a lot of argument and save time as well."