"Doctor, they are sending us away from the hotel where we are! In fact, all the women tremble for their husbands and sons on my account. They do not know that I see them not, and know them not. I do not wish to see or know their men. But in a way it is right. Think, Doctor—the Vicomtesse de Bagdad!"
Two long tears of anger, shame, and sorrow descended the pallid cheeks and fell on her bosom. She wiped her face at once, feverishly.
"Do not disturb yourself," he said in a firm tone, in that tone which was wont to raise the mind of whomsoever listened to him. "If they send you away from the hotel, go into a villa; you will find one."
"Yes, I will find one," she exclaimed, consoled at once. "And you will come there, Doctor? You will come? You are a virtuous and great man; if you come to the villa you will have no scandal: you will only find Robert and me, ourselves alone, the poor mamma with her poor son. You will come, won't you?"
"As soon as you have found the villa I will come."
"And you will cure Robert, Doctor?"
"I do not know: I don't know at all."
"But you will try, won't you? You will try?" seizing his hands, with a mother's cry.
"I promise to try my best," he replied.
A short sigh broke the voice of the woman who had lived only for pleasure and vice, and who now was a mother grieved to the heart. She choked in her cambric handkerchief, fragrant with a delicate perfume. She bowed her head a minute to compose herself before leaving, and then left followed by the silken rustling of her train.