“Not yet. Mme Tessier is with her. I heard it in the streets.”
The Comte looked at him and was moved with compassion. “I am sorry for that,” he said, gently for him, and put his hand for a second on the dusty shoulder. Then he bent and added in a low voice, “We should have saved him this very evening if it had not been for this.”
The young officer, who had been standing since the Abbé’s entrance gazing at some objects which he had laid on the table, here raised his head and addressed the newcomer. “Then perhaps you, Monsieur, would give Mme la Duchesse the message I bear—and give her these, too. I was trying to persuade this gentleman to do it. It is not over fitting for me.”
“You were . . .?” asked M. Chassin, his face working a little.
“Monsieur commanded the escort,” replied the Comte for him, “and has done everything that he could do, then and since. He bears a message from the . . . the authorities that the Duchesse is free to go to Mirabel when she pleases, and to do what she wishes about burial. . . . You tell her, Abbé. We have both had as much as we can bear!”
“And you think I can bear anything?” asked M. Chassin in a half-choked voice, “I, who shall never see him alive now!”
The young hussar had noted the Comte’s method of address. “You are a priest, sir?” he enquired. “Then perhaps this letter, directed to the Abbé Chassin, is for you?”
Pierre was beside him in a moment, and saw what was on the table. “O Gaston, my brother!” he exclaimed brokenly, and knelt down there, covering his face.
“Brother!” ejaculated the Comte under his breath. Then he understood. It explained many things.
“This order that he wore is not hurt,” murmured the young hussar almost to himself, “although——” He did not finish, but lifted a fold of the handkerchief, and revealed the cross of white and gold with its red heart. “M. de Trélan particularly wished the Duchesse to have it.” He relapsed into silence again, looking down at it, and M. de Brencourt stood looking at it too—save those two letters in the firm hand-writing which he knew so well, all that was left of the leader he had admired, and hated, and schemed against—and tried to save.