CHAPTER XXIX
The Doctor declared that evening that Esperance had congestion of the brain, and that specialists who were sent for from Paris confirmed the diagnosis. The Dowager would not hear of having her taken away. The Tower of Saint Genevieve was put entirely at the Darbois's disposal. Twos sister were sent for, and Jeanette volunteered to do the heavy work. All the other servants were forbidden to approach the Tower.
The Countess Styvens, accompanied by the Duke de Castel-Montjoie, the Prince and Princess de Bernecourt, and the Baron van Berger, had taken the body of her son to be buried in the great family mausoleum which she had raised to the memory of her husband at her country place of Lacken.
Maurice and Genevieve were greatly relieved when they learned that the Countess had not remained. In her crises of delirium Esperance talked and talked….
"Albert, no, no, I do not love him … I love the Duke…. Yes, he saved my life, but my father is going to tell him…. I cannot keep this collar…. It is cold, cold, it strangles me, I am stifling…. I am going to die…. Yes, Albert, you shall clasp the chain every morning … and every evening…. No, my head is not too low, I can see the beauty of Perseus better. He is coming?… He is coming to cut off the long arms that hold me…. The blood, there, the blood running slowly!… No, Albert, do not die, I will love you, the Duke will go!…"
In spite of her trusting confidence, the poor mother must have come to wonder and perhaps to understand.
When Esperance regained consciousness the worst danger was over. Only
Genevieve and Mlle. Frahender had heard the complete revelation.
Jeanette knew too, but Genevieve, who understood that she was there to keep the Duke informed, found her very docile and repentant and did not send her away. The Countess, to whom they had sent a daily bulletin for three weeks, found that Esperance, if not cured, was at least on the way to convalescence. She would still pass many hours when she failed to recognize people. A kind of coma took possession of her every now and then and kept her for days together in a kind of lethargy.
The season was getting late, and all the house guests had left. The Dowager Duchess did not wish to return to Paris, although her son, who had become a deputy as she wished, invited her to come and stay with him. The Prince de Bernecourt had had to once more take up his post, but his wife had stayed to keep her friend company, and because she loved the "little Darbois," as she called her. The Duke de Morlay was visiting friends whose Château was about an hour's journey away. He came every day for news from the Duchess, and from his goddaughter Jeanette.
A month went by. The young girl, now convalescent, was strong enough to be moved.