“Why, he says that it was four days ago that she left the house!—four days, do you understand? What has become of her during all that time? Does it take four days to travel four leagues?”
“Not usually—but, if she stopped often on the way.”
“Ah! it was you who induced Louise to leave the village, where she was safe from all harm. It was you, monsieur, who brought her to Paris. But remember that you must find Louise, that I must know where she is, what has happened to her in the four days since she left this house; and if she has met with any misfortune—then all my wrath will fall on you!”
Chérubin leaped into the cab, gave the driver Monfréville’s address, and hastened to his friend. He longed to confide his troubles to him, for he knew that his friendship would not fail him when he went to him to claim his aid and support.
Monfréville was at home; when his young friend appeared, deeply moved and intensely excited, he instantly questioned him concerning the cause of his agitation. Chérubin told him all that he had done since morning: his visit to the village, his conversation with Nicole and her disclosures of Monsieur Gérondif’s conduct regarding Louise, and finally the girl’s disappearance from the house in which she had taken service. When he had finished his narrative, he cried:
“I must find Louise, my friend, I must find her, for I know now how dearly I love her. Poor Louise, it was to be near me, it was in the hope of seeing me, that she accepted that place in Paris. Nicole told me all, for Louise still thought of me, she never let a day pass without speaking of me, and I, like an ingrate, let three years pass without a sign that I remembered her!”
“That is true,” said Monfréville, “and to-day you are in the depths of despair because you don’t know what has become of her! But from all that you tell me, it seems to me that this girl is worthy of your love, and that it would be a great pity that she should fall into some trap, that she should be victimized by some miserable villain. Is she pretty, did you say?”
“She was lovely at fifteen, and Nicole told me that she had improved every day.”
“The deuce! poor child! If she is very pretty and has lost her way in Paris, it’s very dangerous. As for your tutor, there is a very natural explanation of his conduct: he was in love with Louise, no doubt, and deemed it prudent to keep you from seeing her, which was sure to happen sooner or later. For a pedagogue, that was rather clever.”
“In love with Louise! the insolent old idiot!—But where shall I look for poor Louise—where can I hope to find her now?”