The thought seemed to have summoned him; for at that moment the good doctor entered the room, and became the confidant of my wishes.
I had not misjudged him. His purse lay open upon the table; and I became his debtor for as much of its contents as I stood in need of.
“Very strange!” said he, “this desire of hurrying you off on the part of Monsieur Gayarre. There is something more in it than solicitude for the character of the lady. Something more: what can it all mean?”
The doctor said this partly in soliloquy, and as if searching his own thoughts for an answer.
“I am almost a stranger to Mademoiselle Besançon,” he continued, “else I should deem it my duty to know more of this matter. But Monsieur Gayarre is her guardian; and if he desire you to leave, it will perhaps be wiser to do so. She may not be her own mistress entirely. Poor thing! I fear there is debt at the bottom of the mystery; and if so, she will be more a slave than any of her own people. Poor young lady!”
Reigart was right. My remaining longer might add to her embarrassments. I felt satisfied of this.
“I am desirous to go at once, doctor.”
“My barouche is at the gate, then. You can have a seat in it. I can set you down at the hotel.”
“Thanks, thanks! the very thing I should have asked of you, and I accept your offer. I have but few preparations to make, and will be ready for you in a moment.”
“Shall I step over to the house, and prepare Mademoiselle for your departure?”