"Goutran," said Esperance in a whisper, "the ball has not gone far—I can touch it! Give me the case again," he said presently. He selected other instruments. "I have it!" exclaimed Esperance, and the ball was in his hand.
As he spoke the kind face of Madame Caraman appeared at the door. For the last twenty minutes she had heard footsteps over her head in the room of the deceased Countess, which no one ever entered except the Count, and now she beheld a stranger on the bed in this sacred room.
"Madame Caraman," said Esperance, "here is a lady accidentally wounded. I beg of you to take care of her—do all that her condition requires."
"Poor soul!" cried the good woman. "What does it all mean?"
"I am just about to dress the wound. Do not be frightened. One word, however—I do not wish any one to know that she is here. You will treat her as if she were my sister."
"Of course, sir, of course, but am I to say nothing to the Count?"
"He is away, I know not where. I desire the secret to be kept punctiliously."
"Yes, sir, on one condition."
"A condition? And what may that be?"
"It is that, like your father, you will call me Mamma Caraman—not Madame!"