Chérubin uttered a cry of alarm, dropped the album, and gazed at the lovely blonde, who had chosen the most bewitching attitude that a coquette could devise in which to faint, and whose half-closed eyes wore an expression which did not indicate any very serious danger. But instead of admiring it all, Chérubin rose and ran about the room, looking for smelling-bottles and crying:
“Great God! you are losing consciousness, and I am the cause of it! I am so distressed. I will call for help.”
“No, no, monsieur, just unlace me!” murmured the countess, with a sigh.
“Unlace you! Why, I don’t know how; still, if you think——”
And Chérubin returned to the pretty creature, to do what she suggested; and she, seeing him lean over her, closed her eyes altogether, presuming that that would give him more courage and that he would succeed at last in behaving himself more becomingly; but, when he saw that the countess had closed her eyes entirely, Chérubin jumped back, ran to a bell cord and jerked it violently, and cried:
“She has fainted completely! what a bungler I am! As it’s this perfumery that I have about me that has caused Madame de Valdieri’s illness, of course she won’t recover consciousness so long as I am here.”
The maid appeared, vastly surprised to be summoned so suddenly. Chérubin pointed to her mistress stretched out on the couch, and said:
“Come quickly and attend to madame la comtesse. I am going away; the perfumery I have about me is what made her feel faint, so of course I must not stay with her. Pray tell her that I am terribly distressed at what has happened.”
And Chérubin took his hat and hastened from the boudoir, leaving the lady’s maid in utter amazement and the pretty little countess with her eyes wide open.
Chérubin returned home, cursing Jasmin for turning him into a perfumery booth. He found Monfréville waiting for him, and told him what had happened.