Caraman and Coucon came in. They were in great trouble.
"My good friends," said Fanfar, taking Madame's hand. She was sobbing fit to break her heart, while Coucon was gnawing the ends of his moustache, in order not to imitate her example. "My good friends, I do not yet believe that what Bobichel tells me is true. He says that the Vicomte has disappeared."
"Yes, sir," growled Coucon.
"Then, Madame Caraman, this is no time for tears. Tears remedy nothing, and we must have all our wits about us."
Madame held out her arms to Fanfar, as she fell on her knees before him.
"I am the one in fault, and I shall never forgive myself."
"Pray tell me the whole."
"I have broken all my promises in not sending to you before, and yet all the time I had a presentiment of evil."
She wept and sobbed to such a degree that Fanfar could scarcely understand her, but he finally managed to soothe her. She had little to explain, however. She told how Esperance and Goutran had come in late at night, and brought with them a young girl who had been wounded by a pistol shot, and who seemed to be dying. How she herself had watched over this girl night and day. She told how, in obedience to the Vicomte, she had gone to lie down, being very weary and sleepy.
"I can't say how it happened," she sighed. "I had been greatly fatigued. I only meant to rest, not to sleep, but when I opened my eyes it was broad daylight. I jumped up, and ran to the door and listened, but all was silent; then I stole to the bed, I thought she was asleep, of course. Suddenly it occurred to me that the silence was too profound. I tore open the curtain, the bed was empty. At first I thought the girl might have been carried to some other room, she was too weak to walk, you understand, and perhaps Coucon had helped, so I went to him and he rubbed his eyes and yawned."