"Why, yesterday M. David asked André if he could get a horse and cart to send some trunks to Pont-Brillant in a day or two. André told him yes; so I thought I ought to tell you that André intended to use the horse to-morrow, that is all."
"M. David has become discouraged. He abandons the task as an impossibility. The embarrassment and regret he feels are the cause of his holding himself so sedulously aloof all day. My son is lost!"
This was Marie's first and only thought. And, wild with despair, forgetting her disordered toilet and the lateness of the hour, she rushed up-stairs and burst into David's room, leaving Marguerite stupefied with amazement.
CHAPTER XXIII.
WHEN Marie presented herself so unexpectedly before him, David was seated at his little table in the attitude of meditation. At the sight of the young woman, pale, weeping, her hair dishevelled, and in the disorder of her night-dress, he rose abruptly, and, turning as pale as Marie herself, at the fear that some dreadful event had taken place, said:
"Madame, what has happened? Has Frederick—"
"M. David!" exclaimed the young woman, "it is impossible for you to abandon us in this way!"
"Madame—"
"I tell you, that you shall not leave, no, you cannot have the heart to do it. My only, my last hope is in you, because—you know it well, oh, my God!—I have no one in the world to help me but you!"
"Madame, a word, I implore you."