"What hour was that, Manon? Three or four?"
"Three, Madame la Princesse," the other answered, rising and passing under the bar to her mistress.
"The day is fair," the dying aristocrat said, letting her eyes glance toward the windows, through the heavy lace curtains of which the sun's rays strayed. "Fair. There is nothing to impede his journey. He should be here to-night. He must have crossed from England yesterday, must he not?"
"I should suppose so, madame. This is Friday. Your courier left for London last Sunday. It is certain Monsieur Ashurst must be very near Paris now."
"Ah, Manon! Monsieur Ashurst! Monsieur Ashurst! I would, instead, he were Monsieur de Beauvilliers. Then--then----" She broke off in what she had been about to say and bade the girl go tell the holy father he might leave the room, might walk in the garden if he chose, and see if there were any roses left. His services were not now required; if she could judge by her feelings, her death was not to be yet. Send him away, she gave order.
Obedient to her commands--was she not a patroness of all the religious foundations in and around Paris, as well as a magnificent benefactress?--the monk departed. Then the Princesse de Rochebazon continued:
"If he were not Monsieur Ashurst, but were instead of my husband's side, the de Rochebazons would not have come to an end--to an end. My God! why is he not a de Beauvilliers? Yet, had he been, I might not have loved him as I do."
"'Tis pity, madame," the girl said. "Yet even as it is----" then paused, breaking off.
"'Even as it is,' you would say, 'he will inherit much--much of the de Rochebazon fortune.' Yes, 'tis true. He will be well provided for. After the Church--that first. Also you, Manon, are remembered."
"Madame!" the girl exclaimed softly, gratefully. Then went on, while as she spoke the tears stood in her eyes. "You have been always very good to me, oh! so good, so good, as ever and to all. What shall we do? What shall we do?"