The tears rose in Laura's eyes; but those tears that spring, in moments of joy, from the recollection of past sorrows, are not amongst the least sweet things of life. "I wish, De Juvigny," she replied, "I wish that all the hours of sleep which, during these eight days, fled from my pillow also, could have gone and rested upon yours. But little repose, indeed, have I known myself; and of course my thoughts, through those long tedious nights, were not rendered less sorrowful by thinking of all that you were suffering at the same time. But let us not remember anything unhappy now. My father has passed a very tranquil night, and the surgeon assures me that there is but little chance of his wound proving dangerous."
"Is Monsieur de Villardin awake, then?" I demanded.
"He has been so for some time," she answered, "and is now sitting up speaking with the Count, who, finding my father so much better, has determined to set out to-day for Paris, glad to leave our dear Brittany, and what he calls its semi-barbarous inhabitants--and our gloomy château--and poor Laura de Villardin--and to betake himself to courts and cities, and scenes and people, much better fitted to him than any he has met with here."
She spoke with all the playful gaiety of former days; but I knew my dear Laura too well to believe that she would even have jested in regard to a man who had behaved so generously as I believed the Count to have done, had she not known some trait in his character which might detract a little from the apparent liberality of his conduct. She felt sorry, however, even for the slight touch of bitterness that had mingled with her words, almost as soon as they were spoken; and added, "It is very wrong of me, I believe, to feel so glad of the departure of a man who has behaved so kindly to us; and who, with the power, and, perhaps, with some inducements, to make us very miserable, has, on the contrary, made us very happy; but I cannot help it, De Juvigny; and the very feelings which I detect in my own heart now, make me tremble to think what would have been those I should have experienced, had I been forced to marry a man I could not love. But go now to my father, who is anxious to see you too; and your presence will probably break off his conversation with the Count, which I am sure has continued too long for his health already."
I lingered a moment or two more, and then proceeded to the apartments of Monsieur de Villardin, where I found the Count in the act of taking his leave. Father Ferdinand, also, was present; but as the good priest remained with the Duke, I was commissioned to do all due honours to the departing guest, and it would be vain to deny that I felt the same satisfaction on seeing him enter his carriage, and quit the Prés Vallée, that Laura had so artlessly expressed. I was about to seek another moment of happiness with Laura ere I returned to the chamber of her father, when the young commander of the guards stepped up to me and begged a few minutes' conversation. Of course I could not refuse; and taking him into the library as the nearest vacant apartment, I requested him to state his commands.
"Why, the truth is, Monsieur le Baron," he said, with a somewhat rueful air--"the truth is, one of our prisoners has contrived to slip through our fingers."
"Which? Which? Not the one I myself made?" I cried--fearing that it might be Gaspard de Belleville, and feeling now convinced, from all that had happened during the last ten years, that it was not quite so necessary, or so indifferent, to have even one bitter enemy loose in the same world with us, as I had once thought it--"Not the one I made myself, surely?"
"The very same," answered the young officer. "However, I trust there is no great harm done; for it matters little which way such a fellow meets his death. If he had been taken alive to Rennes, he would have been hung, of course, and now he has but broken his neck. So it makes little difference."
"Broken his neck!" I exclaimed. "Explain! explain! my good sir!"
"Yes!" he answered; "he has simply broken his neck. The fact was, you were all so busy last night, and so much occupied with Monsieur de Villardin and Mademoiselle, that we were obliged to dispose of him as well as we could; and therefore, as the safest place, we put him up in the small room at the top of the west tower. There is a buttress, you know, runs down the side just between the windows, with a sort of steps upon it as it grows thicker; and it would seem ^hat by this means he fancied he could make his escape. He must have fallen, however, in trying to reach the buttress, for his body was found quite dead, and cold, almost exactly beneath the window of the chamber in which he was confined."