“I ought to be getting off,” remarked Mrs. Poidevin, remembering the hour at which the omnibus left Vauvert; “had I better go up and bid cousin Louis good-bye?”
Mrs. Tourtel thought Margot should go and ask the Doctor's opinion first, but as Margot had already vanished, she went herself.
There was a longish pause, during which Mrs. Poidevin looked uneasily at Tourtel; he with restless furtive eyes at her. Then the housekeeper reappeared, noiseless, cool, determined as ever.
“Mr. Rennuf is quiet now,” she said; “de Doctor have given him a soothing draught, and will stay to see how it acts. He tinks you'd better slip quietly away.”
On this, Louisa Poidevin left Les Calais; but in spite of her easy superficiality, her unreasoning optimism, she took with her a sense of oppression. Cousin Louis's appeal rang in her ears: “Do not leave me; stay with me, or take me back with you. I am afraid up here, quite alone.” And after all, though his fears were but the folly of old age, why, she asked herself, should he not come and stay with them in town if he wished to do so? She resolved to talk it over with Pedvinn; she thought she would arrange for him the little west room, being the furthest from the nurseries; and in planning out such vastly important trifles as to which easy-chair and which bedroom candlestick she would devote to his use, she forgot the old man himself and recovered her usual stolid jocundity.
When Owen had entered the bedroom, he had found Renouf standing over an open portmanteau, into which he was placing hurriedly whatever caught his eye or took his fancy, from the surrounding tables. His hand trembled from eagerness, his pale old face was flushed with excitement and hope. Owen, going straight up to him, put his two hands on his shoulders, and without uttering a word, gently forced him backwards into a chair. Then he sat down in front of him, so close that their knees touched, and fixing his strong eyes on Renouf's wavering ones, and stroking with his finger-tips the muscles behind the ears, he threw him immediately into an hypnotic trance.
“You want to stay here, don't you?” said Owen emphatically. “I want to stay here,” repeated the old man through grey lips. His face was become the colour of ashes, his hands were cold to the sight. “You want your cousin to go away and not disturb you any more? Answer—answer me.” “I want my cousin to go away,” Renouf murmured, but in his staring, fading eye were traces of the struggle tearing him within.
Owen pressed down the eyelids, made another pass before the face, and rose on his long legs with a sardonic grin. Margot, leaning across a corner of the bed, had watched him with breathless interest.
“I b'lieve you're de Evil One himself,” she said admiringly.
Owen pinched her smooth chin between his tobacco-stained thumb and fingers.