Silently, and without a single expression of regret, she went through the lofty corridors of the hotel, until she reached the private staircase by which Eugene had passed to the street that morning. The servants had assembled to bid her adieu, and, as they tendered their good wishes, she bent her lofty head with the condescension of a queen. Before descending, she addressed a few words to the steward:
"I am forced to leave Paris for a time, Latour. My enemies refuse me the poor privilege of remaining here to refute the absurd charges preferred against me by the senseless rabble that are in their pay. During my absence, I leave you in full command of my household. You shall receive your wages until you decide to seek employment elsewhere. Farewell all!"
The chariot with eight superb horses was at the postern, and around it stood the lackeys in their liveries of sombre gray. The countess took her seat in the carriage, and, bending forward to kiss her son, said, "Bear my greetings to your sisters, Eugene."
"Will my gracious uncle accept this commission?" asked he, turning to the duke.
"Why not you?" asked Olympia.
"Because my place is with you, dearest mother," was the simple reply of her devoted child, while he took his seat at her side.
"It is right," remarked the duke, "and I begin to feel considerable respect for our little abbe!"
"I shall compel respect from more than the Duke de Bouillon," thought his nephew.
"Farewell!" said Olympia, with as much self possession as if she had been starting for a tour of pleasure. "Tell the king that I forget to pity my own impotence in compassionating his."
The carriage rolled away, first under the illuminated windows of the rooms of state, where the unconscious Princesses de Carignan were doing their best to entertain the motley assemblage, that had been so suddenly deserted by their mother; then along the dimly-lighted streets where Eugene's heart beat with painful apprehension lest the crowd should recognize the fugitive; then they entered the avenue where the court had turned its back upon Olympia and her extravagant hopes, and at last—they reached the gates.