“He must have gone away with the others; it isn’t probable that he has remained here. Why should he? If he recognized me, as I think, he must have been all the more eager to go. Oh, yes! I am very sure that he has not gone to Monsieur Glumeau’s house. What a fool I am to tremble like this! but I can’t help it; I had so little expectation of this meeting, after so many years! It is strange! he has hardly changed at all; he still has the same serious look; he is still—Ah!”
As she spoke thus to herself, she slowly turned her head, to make sure that there was no one behind her, and she saw her husband standing motionless against a tree, with his eyes still fixed upon her.
Thereupon she felt her blood run cold, she was almost terrified. And yet there was nothing terrifying in the Comte de Brévanne’s eyes; they expressed amazement rather than anger; but she upon whom they were fixed instantly turned her own away, feeling that she had not courage to endure their gaze.
“He is there, still there! he doesn’t take his eyes from me!” said Madame de Grangeville to herself; not daring to move or to turn her head. “Mon Dieu! what can be his purpose? It seemed to me that he was glaring savagely at me!”
“She doesn’t dare to move; no doubt I frighten her!” said the count to himself; “I will go away. I can understand that my presence is not likely to produce a pleasant impression upon her. I must go; she is not the one whom I sought here.—Great heaven! how she has changed!”
The count was preparing to go away, and had already taken several steps, when he heard a dull sound, resembling a prolonged groan, apparently very near the stage.
“Mon Dieu! what is that?” cried Madame de Grangeville.
The count stopped to listen; the same groan made itself heard again, even more distinctly.
Madame de Grangeville, terror-stricken, uttered a shriek, left her chair, and no longer fearing to look at her husband, turned her eyes in all directions, exclaiming:
“Mon Dieu! in pity’s name, will no one come to help me?”