"But that is absurd!" she ejaculated. "The Government cannot possibly connect—Tiens, I will ask M. de Chateaubriand before he goes." And she looked across to where the great man, his fine white head supported on his hand, was standing in a favourite attitude with his arm on the chimney-piece, an elevation which his want of stature must have rendered difficult of comfortable attainment.
Armand laid a hand on her arm. "I implore you to do nothing of the sort. It will ruin my friend if this gets about. It is far best to submit, for prudence' sake, to precautions which may only be temporary. Needless to say that I intend, however, to come and see you sometimes—if you, too, will run the risk—but, of course, it cannot be openly.... Meanwhile, here is a note which I promised my wife to bring; but you must on no account communicate with her."
"But if I am to see you occasionally, I can communicate through you," protested Madame de Vigerie, still amazed.
"This once, yes, for she knows that I am here, but in the future, to avoid alarming her, I shall not tell her when I come. Perhaps, indeed, it will be better for me not to come for a few weeks. It will depend on what my friend says."
But here the Vicomtesse, visibly perplexed, was reft from him by M. le Vicomte de Chateaubriand, desiring to take his leave... And Armand's luck held, for Chateaubriand, head as he was of the Royalist Committee of Paris, strongly disapproved of the tendency to push matters to too sudden an issue displayed by the younger and more extravagant spirits of the party, and he cast a glance of disapproval upon the Comte de la Roche-Guyon.
"Do not, Madame," he said in a low tone, "commit any imprudence just now. The time is not ripe, and the Government is on the watch." He bowed over her hand, and passed on.
After this unexpected reinforcement it seemed to the Comte more diplomatic not to outstay the rest, as he often did, but of a prudence more finished to leave Madame de Vigerie still under the empire of M. de Chateaubriand's warning and his own unusual caution—his, who had often been reproached by her for recklessness—and uneasy, perhaps, at the possible cessation of his visits. But before he left the Vicomtesse had found time to scribble a pencil note to Horatia (which he punctually delivered) and to say that if it must be so, she could see him alone next Friday, but that she did not wish him to run risks. To which he replied with suitable gravity that if he considered it unwise, he would not come, and so departed, having accomplished his object and gained to boot the spice of clandestine intercourse.
He had, moreover, the fortitude not to go on the appointed Friday after all, and, when he appeared the following week in the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin, to come armed with so many statistics of the progress of Royalism in the West, and to keep so strictly to conversation on the Duchesse de Berry's plans, that Madame de Vigerie was thoroughly deceived. But gradually, almost as imperceptibly as September merged into October, and the scorched leaves said farewell to the trees of the Luxembourg and the Tuileries, the stolen meetings lost something of the political character which had given them birth. Laurence de Vigerie was hardly conscious of the change, or, at least, she shut her eyes to it. She only knew that she missed him when he did not come. And Armand came more and more frequently.
(3)
And so, after all, the object for which Horatia had wanted to return to Paris—Laurence's society—was not to be hers. She did not seem to desire that of anyone else, and yet she was very lonely. She went out driving, perhaps, for an hour or two, but she neither paid nor received calls now. Always once a day at least Armand would come to see her. He was very bright and very polite, and almost punctilious in his enquiries after her health, but it was apparent to her that, these courteous formalities at an end he was anxious to make his exit, to pursue his own avocations, whatever they might be. She did not attempt to detain him. She would reply to him cheerfully, never admit that she had a headache or felt tired, and he would kiss her hand and say, "Do not wear out your eyes over that embroidery, my dear; why not go to the Rue Neuve des Augustins and order as much as you want?"