"Then, Barbesieur, that peach avenged Eugene and Laura both. I sent it to you."
"You!" cried Barbesieur, with a shudder.
"Yes," replied Olympia, her black eyes darting fire as she spoke. "I sent you the peach, and if you have eaten it (it will be very slow in its effects), you have just four years longer to live!"
As he heard these terrible words, Barbesieur dropped, like a felled ox, to the floor.
"Count Barbesieur," cried a voice in the antechamber, "your father is dying of apoplexy."
Barbesieur started up with an oath, and darted from the room. The Countess de Soissons followed him to the corridor. No one was there, for the servants had all congregated, as near as possible, to the chamber of the dying statesman. Olympia passed on, unchallenged, reached her carriage, and set off at full gallop for Nice.
She found Eugene improved, and sitting up. He was in his arm-chair, gazing with tearful eyes at a portrait opposite—a portrait of Laura, as Sister Angelica. His thoughts were so far, far away from the weary present, that the door had opened, and his mother had put her arms around his neck, before he became aware of her entrance.
"Eugene, my beloved son," said she, "I have avenged you."
"Avenged? Dear mother, what can you mean?"
"I mean that Louvois is dead—dead of humiliation. And that Barbesieur lives; but lives in the knowledge that, in four years, he must die. His life, then, unto the bitter end, will be one long agony. Eugene, you avenged my wrongs. I have now paid the debt."