“Evil!” she mused aloud. “Good for evil? Granting that this be my habit, it would merely be a selfish one, for if one returns evil for evil and bite for bite, one is cheated. There is nothing more then for Almighty God to do; it is much better to remain His creditor.”
“That’s a new view of the case,” he pondered, and then, in an altered tone, suddenly added: “Madame de Salvières, you have always done so much for me, will you—will you kiss me good night?”
“Why, yes, of course I will,” she assented, and, bending once more over him, she kissed him on the forehead. “Voilà, mon enfant,” she said, pushing back his hair; and he watched her white dress disappear in the penumbra of the immense room.
Left alone, he gave a long, shuddering sigh, and for a moment closed his eyes very tight. When he opened them again he let them wander about the room, with its splendid tapestries, its admirably preserved antique furniture, its deep window embayments filled by transparent shadows, that revealed here the dull gold of a frame, there the bevel of a looking-glass, the pale gleam of ivory, the deeper darkness of bronze, and the groups of flowering plants Tatiana had caused to be brought there for the pleasure of his gaze. Close beside him on a very low table, which he could easily reach without moving more than his arm, stood a great bunch of violets in a bowl of Venetian glass; there was also there a block-note provided with paper and envelopes, a fountain-pen, a silver tray upon which rested a decanter of Muscat de Frontignan, a box of cigarettes, a match-safe, and a glass, and on the other edge two or three little medicine-bottles and a crystal spoon.
He could hear the carabin—as the Duchess had designated him—walking softly up and down in the adjoining salon, waiting to be summoned, but he did not do this. Instead he noiselessly drew paper and pen toward him, and a little awkwardly began to write, holding the pad almost upright before his eyes, for to be quite flat on one’s back is inconvenient for such business. Sheet after sheet he covered with shaky but very legible writing, quite aware that twice the medical student, and twice the orderly, had peeped in at the door to see how he was doing. A little smile raised the corners of his lips, but he took no further notice and went on writing quietly. At last he had done, and, folding the scattered pages, he slipped them into an envelope together with a few violets from the fragrant cluster Tatiana herself had brought to him an hour or so before; gummed the flap down, wrote the address, “Madame la Duchesse de Salvières, Personnelle,” and slid the packet into the breast pocket of his pajama jacket. Then he called the budding doctor.
“Mon cher ami,” he said, “before braving again the perils of the sea—which will be to-morrow if all goes well—I wish to make some temporary disposal of my property, or properties, rather, for, alas! they are numerous. I suppose that according to French law a brief document of the kind I am thinking of, witnessed by you and, for instance, your assistant, would be quite valid?”
“Why, yes, monsieur, certainly. It is what they call a holograph will, but I am very sorry to see that you are feeling anxious. There is no danger, I assure you, in crossing the ocean in such a ship as Monsieur le Duc de Salvières’s yacht; and as to your health, why, there is no doubt that you will improve with every day.”
Preston laughed. “I am not in the least anxious, I swear to you,” he said, lightly. “Of course my general health will be improved by the sea trip before us—though it will have, as you know, no effect whatever upon the lesion that has—shall we say preoccupied us all?”
The youthful doctor looked embarrassed and felt himself color, much to his disgust. “Oh, that naturally is another question, monsieur. Still, you have great strength, great energy; the vital organs are all in wonderful condition.”
“Don’t be professional! Please! Please!” smiled Preston. “Be legal, however, if you don’t mind, for a few moments, and satisfy my mind before I seek oblivion in sleep. Here, give me that block-note and the pen; I’ll just scribble what I want.”