“To keep the thief out,” said he, in grim tones, which Nancy took for jesting. But she could not at all understand him.
His restlessness kept her awake. “It must have been all fancy,” she more than once heard him mutter to himself.
When he rose in the morning, his restlessness seemed still to hang upon him. Remarking to Nancy, who was only half-awake, that his nerves were out of order, and he should be all the better for a sea-bath, he dressed and left the room. Nancy got down at the usual hour, half-past eight; and was told by Flore that monsieur had left word madame was not to wait breakfast for him: he was gone to have a dip in the sea, and should probably take a long country walk after it.
Flore was making the coffee at the kitchen stove; her mistress stood by, as if wanting to watch the process. These last few days, since Lavinia had been carried from the house, Nancy had felt easier in Flore’s company than when alone with her own.
“That’s to steady his nerves; they are out of order,” replied Nancy, who had as much idea of reticence as a child. “Monsieur had a great fright last night, Flore.”
“Truly!” said Flore, much occupied just then with her coffee-pot.
“He was coming up to bed between ten and eleven; I had gone on. When nearly at the top of the stairs he thought he heard some one behind him. It startled him frightfully. Not being prepared for it, supposing that the house was empty, you see, Flore, of course it would startle him.”
“Naturally, madame.”
“He cried out, and dashed into the bedroom and bolted the door. I never saw any one in such a state of terror, Flore; he was trembling all over; his face was whiter than your apron.”
“Vraiment!” returned Flore, turning to look at her mistress in a little surprise. “But, madame, what had terrified him? What was it that he had seen?”