For, to his infinite amazement, the little lawyer found himself swung off the pavement by the collar of his coat, and, after a shake which seemed to loosen all the teeth in his head, left staggering in the middle of the road, his newspaper flying after him. So unexpected and so prompt had been the action of M. Georges that the doctor had not had time to interfere, nor, indeed, had he much desire to do so. No one else was very near at the time, and Leroux pulled himself together, vowing vengeance and actions as he sullenly edged away.
“Be off,” said M. Georges, calmly, “for if I hear any more of this vile talk you may find yourself with something worse than a shake. Doctor, this news has completely upset me.”
“So it appears,” said Dr Mathurin, chuckling. “I should rather say it had led to the upsetting of other people. Monsieur Georges, you are a man of force, but I am afraid you have laid yourself open to an action for assault.”
The other waved his hand indifferently.
“Let him bring it. My little patrimony can defray the expense, and his malice is a matter of no consequence. But this sad, this terrible affair! My friend, I must go at once to Poissy. If there is anything in which I can serve them, it will be my greatest privilege to be allowed to be useful. I shudder to think of the effect of such a blow upon madame and the poor young ladies. I imagine—but it is not possible for you to imagine—what it must be for those so bound up in Poissy, and in monsieur le baron, when it shocks even us! It is horrible, impossible, villainous! He must be the victim of some cursed plot. I could almost believe that miserable little Leroux had invented and inserted it for the mere purpose of giving pain, had such a thing been possible; but I presume—”
“No, no, my friend,” said the doctor, wringing his hand, “the thing did not grow in his brain, and, indeed, there was a whisper yesterday, although I did not repeat it. This explains Monsieur Bourget’s attitude, poor man! A crushing humiliation for him, a very heavy blow for all. And the poor wife! Yes, I think you are right to go there, though it will be a terribly trying visit. Pray present them with my most respectful sympathy.”
M. Georges was informed that Mme. de Beaudrillart was receiving no one, but that the young ladies would see him presently, if he would kindly go into the salon. He fancied that the servant admitting him had a frightened air, and glanced at him as if in hopes of his speaking; but he dared not trust himself on so delicate a subject. He waited for some time before the sisters, both dressed in black, came in together.
The alteration in Mlle. Claire shocked him. She had aged ten years; her face, bloodless and sallow, had grown sharper, her eyes were tearless, and she carried herself more stiffly upright than ever. Félicie’s grief, on the contrary, was less restrained; her eyes were scarlet, her face swollen with crying, and as she came in at the door she stretched out her hand, and exclaimed in a voice of despair:
“Oh, Monsieur Georges, then you at least do not desert us!” He was so touched by this appeal that he hurried forward and bowed low over her hand.
“Desert you, mademoiselle, because Monsieur Léon is the victim of a shameful accusation! No one would be capable of such baseness, least of all an old servant of your family. I have hurried here to assure you of my profound sympathy, and to say that no one who knew monsieur le baron could for a moment believe him capable of such an act. It is a miserable calumny which will easily be disproved.”