“I don’t know—I saw her several times at a distance, in the park—and, when I lean out of my window, I can see hers. She has made signals to me.”
“Do you know which is her room?”
“Yes, in this passage, the third on the right.”
“The blue room,” murmured Valméras. “It has folding doors: they won’t give us so much trouble.”
One of the two leaves very soon gave way. Old Beautrelet undertook to tell the girl.
Ten minutes later, he left the room with her and said to his son:
“You were right—Mlle. de Saint-Véran—;”
They all four went down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Valméras stopped and bent over the man. Then, leading them to the terrace-room:
“He is not dead,” he said. “He will live.”
“Ah!” said Beautrelet, with a sigh of relief.