After a hideous night, during which he did not attempt to undress, Glynn was early next morning at the Rue de L'Evêque.
Lambert looked less terribly agitated than he was the day before, but he had an exhausted, stupefied air, as if nature could not hold out much longer. He was dressed and ready to go out, however, and as he was too soon for the appointment with M. Claude, Glynn accompanied him to see Madame Davilliers, who with her husband had visited and condoled with the bereaved father more than once during the previous evening.
They found her still much agitated. She received Lambert with affectionate sympathy, but talked in a strain that maddened Glynn. The chef de la sûreté had evidently communicated to her his own belief that Elsie had fled willingly.
"Antoinette," she said, "was weeping in her own room; the poor child could not of course understand the despair of her elders. To her it was like some fairy tale of a cruel ogre; the less she heard of so awful a catastrophe the better. It is not for me to judge the habits of other nations," continued madame, "but the results of such freedom as is permitted to young American girls cannot fail to be fatal! That dear Elsie was an angel of goodness and purity, brought up by those holy ladies of the convent, and all the more likely to be led away, because of her extreme innocence. She" (Madame Davilliers) "was the last woman to be taken up with egotism; but the disgrace of such an occurrence would reflect on all who had come in contact with the unhappy one."
"Do you mean to say that you think my child, my jewel, my pride, is to blame? that any one living could lead her astray?" almost screamed Lambert, stung from his despairing apathy into angry excitement.
"Dear monsieur, I only blame your system, not its victim!"
"You are premature in your conclusions," said Glynn with cold displeasure. "Within twenty-four hours she will no doubt be discovered, and all that seems inexplicable explained."
"I trust it may be so, monsieur; meanwhile I agree with the excellent M. Claude that the affair should be kept as secret as possible; rumor will make everything worse than it really is, and for the sake of——"
"Adieu, madame; mine is too terrible an affliction to leave room for thought about appearances!" cried poor Lambert, turning away.
"Poor unhappy father! all things may be pardoned to him," said madame compassionately to Glynn, who bowed silently and followed his distracted friend.