"Yes, very poor, indeed," replied Euphrasie.
"Then I will ask mamma if you may come in; mamma loves the poor."
When the boy returned he was accompanied by an elderly woman, bearing the appearance of an upper servant. She addressed Euphrasie respectfully: "Mrs. Ellwood can see no one to-day, miss; can you send in your business by me?"
"Not very well, my business is personal; shall I be able to see her tomorrow?"
"It is impossible to say, but you can call and see; to-morrow you may be able to find some one who will see you in her stead; she sees no one herself, but she expects a friend to-night who manages her business for her."
With this answer she was obliged to be content: she returned to the hotel where M. de Villeneuve awaited her. "This is a bad business," he said; "I have been here twice before with no better result, she will not see strangers."
"You have not seen her, then?"
"No! I have only heard of her, she is almost adored here for her deeds of kindness and charity. I never knew of a case which excited my interest so much; it was on her account, not on the duke's, that I assented to pay this place so many visits. God only can console her!"
* * * * * *
There was a sound of carriages in the night, a very unusual thing in that secluded village; and in the morning early, again there was the sound of wheels. M. de Villeneuve strolled to the end of the street; he shook his head on his return. "We are altogether too late," he said; "the people [{190}] say that she is gone; and many are weeping, for she was dearly loved."