“And then?” he asked, seeing that the man was hesitating.
“Then the servant was frightened, and did what she wanted.”
“He is dismissed, the fool!” exclaimed Count Ville-Handry.
“But allow me to say,” commenced Ernest.
“No! Let his wages be paid. And you go on.”
Without showing any embarrassment, the valet shrugged his shoulders, and continued in a lazy tone,—
“Then the hack came into the court-yard; and we saw the young lady come down in a splendid toilet, such as we have never seen her wear before,—not pretty exactly, but so conspicuous, that it must have attracted everybody’s attention. She settled herself coolly on the cushions, while we looked at her, utterly amazed; and, when she was ready, she said, ‘Ernest, you will tell my father that I shall not be back for breakfast. I have a good many visits to make; and, as the weather is fine, I shall afterwards go to the Bois de Boulogne.’ Thereupon the gates were opened, and off they went. It was then that I took the liberty to send you word, sir.”
In all his life Count Ville-Handry had not been so furious. The veins in his neck began to swell; and his eyes became bloodshot, as if he had been threatened with a fit of apoplexy.
“You ought to have kept her from going out,” he said hoarsely. “Why did you not prevent her? You ought to have made her go back to her room, use force if necessary, lock her up, bind her.”
“You had given no orders, sir.”