The count considered that his presence was inopportune; and he thought that he was called upon to introduce himself, and explain his visit.
“You will excuse me, gentlemen,” said he, “if I am indiscreet. I did not think of being so when I asked to wait for Noel, whom I have the most pressing need of seeing. I am the Count de Commarin.”
At this name, the old soldier let go the back of the chair which he was still holding and haughtily raised his head. An angry light flashed in his eyes, and he made a threatening gesture. His lips moved, as if he were about to speak; but he restrained himself, and retired, bowing his head, to the window.
Neither the count nor the two other men noticed his strange behaviour; but it did not escape Claire.
While Mademoiselle d’Arlange sat down rather surprised, the count, much embarrassed at his position, went up to the priest, and asked in a low voice, “What is, I pray, M. l’Abbe; Madame Gerdy’s condition?”
The doctor, who had a sharp ear, heard the question, and approached quickly.
He was very pleased to have an opportunity to speak to a person as celebrated as the Count de Commarin, and to become acquainted with him.
“I fear, sir,” he said, “that she cannot live throughout the day.”
The count pressed his hand against his forehead, as though he had felt a sudden pain there. He hesitated to inquire further.
After a moment of chilling silence, he resolved to go on.