She raised her window, and tried to listen, fancying she could hear an unusual sound, even at such a distance. Alas! she heard nothing but the rushing roar of the angry river.
Her anxiety grew more insufferable every moment; and she felt as if she would faint were this torturing suspense to last much longer, when the well-known, beloved signal appeared suddenly in Gaston’s window, and told her that her lover was about to swim across the Rhone.
She could scarcely believe her eyes; she must be under the influence of a dream; her amazement prevented her answering the signal, until it had been repeated three times.
Then, more dead than alive, with trembling limbs she hastened along the park to the river-bank.
Never had she seen the Rhone so furious. Since Gaston was risking his life in order to see her, she could no longer doubt that something fearful had occurred at Clameran.
She fell on her knees, and with clasped hands, and her wild eyes fixed upon the dark waters, besought the pitiless waves to yield up her dear Gaston.
Every dark object which she could distinguish floating in the middle of the torrent assumed the shape of a human form.
At one time, she thought she heard, above the roaring of the water, the terrible, agonized cry of a drowning man.
She watched and prayed, but her lover came not.
Still she waited.