"What is the matter?" he said. "Has the child betrayed you?"
"Non, non," replied Madame. "I have put her upstairs, but he thinks she is still at school at Arles—learning, ever learning; dancing, ever dancing; making herself très jolie—ah, that is what he thinks, mon adored one."
"Listen, Madame," said the doctor. "Your husband is ill, very ill indeed. Keep the little one away if you can, but if not, let her go to him. It may be possible that the truth and the truth alone may save him even now. I will come back in two hours. Try to save him from shock, if possible; but behold! if it is necessary, fetch la petite Comtesse."
The doctor departed and Madame went back to her husband's bedside. He was talking in a rambling, feeble way, and kept looking first at the clock and then at the door.
"La petite, she does not arrive," he said suddenly. As suddenly a thought flashed through the mind of la Comtesse.
"She will not be here till late to-night, mon Alphonse," was her reply. "She has been asked to partake of tisane with her cousins, the Marquises Clotilde et Rose. She will have much to tell thee when she does enter thy room."
"Ah," said the poor old Comte feebly, "is she also one of those who overlook the old, the very aged, when they can hardly speak, hardly think? Time flies for us both—ah, ma petite Comtesse, mon ange, I may not be here if thou dost delay. I want her to tell me——"
"What, my unhappy one?" asked his wife.
"All about that wonderful petite who performs such extraordinary feats at the établissement which once was thine, my Ninon."
All of a sudden the heart of Ninon rose in a great wave. It seemed to struggle for utterance. She could scarcely contain herself.