I did not know what reply to make. But Eugénie had pushed her chair back as if to make room for me beside her neighbor; at the same moment she turned her eyes in my direction. Instantly I saw her sway from side to side, and her head fell against the back of her chair.
“This lady is ill!” cried Caroline, leaning over her. “Some salts, messieurs, quickly! Open the window; perhaps she needs air.”
There was a general movement. I rose with the rest and was about to leave the salon, but Caroline called me, detained me, begged me to help her to carry the invalid to the window, which had been opened. How could I avoid doing what she asked? And then too, the sight of that woman, whose eyes were closed and whose pale lips and emaciated features indicated great suffering, caused me profound emotion, and a sentiment which almost resembled pleasure. I was not hardhearted, but she had injured me so deeply! It seemed to me that I was beginning to have my revenge. Why then should I leave that salon? Was it for me to fly? No, I proposed to see how she would endure my presence.
While these ideas flitted through my mind, Caroline pushed me toward the chair in which Eugénie was sitting, saying:
“Well! for heaven’s sake, monsieur, do you propose to stand there without budging? Oh! how awkward men are under some circumstances!”
We carried the chair to the window, and someone brought salts.
“Hold the lady’s head,” said Caroline to me. “Come this way. Upon my word, I don’t know what you can be thinking about to-night, but you act as if you did not hear me.—Poor woman! how pale she is! But she is pretty, for all that, isn’t she? Tell me, don’t you think her pretty?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
“I am very lucky to be able to get that out of you. Ah! she is coming to herself.”
Eugénie opened her eyes. She seemed to be trying to collect her thoughts. At last she looked slowly about her, and I was the first person whom she saw. She instantly lowered her eyes and put her hand to her forehead.