Pascal raised Vivienne, and adopted the doctor’s suggestion:
“It is for your good, sister. I will come to Salvanetra in two weeks. If your health is restored, you shall come back with me.”
“Two weeks! Two weeks!! Oh Heaven! Doctor, tell me, tell me, can one live two weeks without food or drink, without the light of the sun, or moon, or stars?”
“You shall have all you want,” the doctor replied, irrelevantly.
“Stop!” she cried; “your voice is like the doom of hell in my ears!”
Pascal and the Doctor each grasped a hand, Vivienne struggling violently to free herself, and they were obliged to let go their hold.
“Oh, Pascal, one word—one word more—one last appeal! Let me see Clarine for one minute, just one! Let me breathe but one word into her ear, and I will go with you quietly. Oh, you will not refuse this, my last request? Say I may, dear brother, oh, say I may!”
The thought had come to her that if she could see her old nurse, tell her where Vandemar was and give her the paper, he might yet escape. Clarine knew all the secret passages in the old castle. Hope still remained. Was the paper safe? Yes, it was there. The poor girl was nervous, excited, almost distracted. When she withdrew her hand from her bosom, she unknowingly brought the paper with it. It fluttered a moment on the air, and then fell to the floor.
Pascal had been watching her closely. Her action had disclosed the hiding-place of her secret. By this paper, she knew how to open the dungeon door—and now it was in his possession. A look of almost fiendish exultation came into his face. He tore the paper in pieces, threw the fragments upon the floor, and stepped upon them.
Vivienne had seen the paper in Pascal’s hands.