"Hm! then she does not know her father is dead?"
"Dead!" repeated Agenor, starting up.
The magistrate told the particulars indifferently. "But we need not take that into account just now, for she must not hear of it. You must take her away to Paris or Italy, though I do not suppose it will avail much. Consumptive fever! suicide! why, it gives one cold shivers down the back. That is, if we credit the doctor. But need we? For, I can tell you, he is a sentimentalist--a philanthropist"--here his face wore a contemptuous sneer--"and perhaps a friend of the Jews."
"I believe him; and if you had seen the poor thing you would not have doubted, either."
"That's bad. But now we must be sensible. What you said yesterday, excuse me, was sheer nonsense. That is the way a counter-jumper would talk if he could not marry a seamstress. But a Baranowski has obligations. What good would it do you, or the girl, or the world in general, if you committed suicide together? There are two courses open to you. Either let things remain as they are--"
"No, no!" cried the count.
"You need not shout! I am not a barbarian myself. I only meant for you to go South with a physician who would watch her carefully. But, of course, if you believe in a catastrophe notwithstanding, we will not speak of it again."
"No, not of that."
"Well, there is nothing else for us to talk about, for you can find the way to the nearest priest without my help."
The count stood still, with averted face. "You know of no other way?"