“To Remiremont, Epinal, everywhere.”
At this moment Aline uttered a cry of joy. Bergenheim had just stirred, brought to life, perhaps, by the pressure of his sister’s arms. He opened his eyes and, closed them several times; at last his energy triumphed over his sufferings; he sat up on his improvised cot and, leaning upon his left elbow, he glanced around the room.
“My wife!” said he, in a weak voice.
Madame de Bergenheim arose and forced her way through the group that surrounded the mattress, and silently took her place beside her husband. Her features had changed so terribly within a few moments that a murmur of pity ran through the group of men that filled the room.
“Take my sister away,” said Christian, disengaging his hand from the young girl, who was covering it with kisses and tears.
“My brother! I can not leave my brother!” exclaimed Aline, as she was dragged away rather than led to her room.
“Leave me for a moment,” continued the Baron; “I wish to speak to my wife.”
Mademoiselle de Corandeuil gave Monsieur de Gamier a questioning glance, as if to ask if it were best to grant this request.
“We can do nothing before the doctors arrive,” said the latter, in a low voice, “and perhaps it would be imprudent to oppose him.”
Mademoiselle de Corandeuil recognized the correctness of this observation, and left the room, asking the others to follow her. During this time, Madame de Bergenheim remained motionless in her place, apparently insensible to all that surrounded her. The noise of the closing door aroused her from her stupor. She looked around the room as if she were seeking the others; her eyes, which were opened with the fixed look of a somnambulist, did not change their expression when they fell upon her husband.