“Gabrielle! Gabrielle!” murmured the sick woman with agitation.
Fleurange put her arm under her mistress’ head, and supported it with one hand, while she pressed her icy hands with the other.
“O Gabrielle! do not leave me! never leave me,” continued the princess in an unnatural tone.
Fleurange buried her face in the pillow against which she was leaning, while another voice whispered beside her: “Oh! no, never.”
After a moment she raised her head. “Leave us now, Monsieur le Comte. I beg you to go.”
There was an irresistible authority in her tone, but George hesitated an instant. She repeated, “I beg you to go,” and he obeyed without reply as if she had uttered a command.
When he left the sick-room, he felt relieved like one to whom restraint—even the most trifling—is insupportable. Feeling the need of fresh air, he passed through the salon and went out on the terrace.
It was already daylight. He walked a few steps, inhaling the perfume of the flowers with which the terrace was filled, then stopped a long time, leaning on the balustrade with his arms folded, looking at the clear sky growing radiant under the first touches of Aurora. Without asking himself the reason, he was eager to shake off the effects of the spectacle he had just witnessed.
And yet George had a great deal of heart, whether this word signifies tenderness or courage. It would have been extremely unjust to doubt it, but he felt a constant need of finding in exterior objects the gratification of his faculty of enjoyment—developed to the utmost degree of delicacy, which made him equally susceptible of contrary impressions. This faculty was neither low nor vulgar in its tendency. What attracted George was genuine beauty, which alone gave a charm to the interests of the world. Vice under an ignoble aspect was as repugnant to him as ugliness. In his eyes, the aspect, the only aspect, of sickness, pain, and death was repulsive. He was absolutely ignorant of the mysterious and divine power which sometimes transforms them to the spiritual eye and makes it look beyond the exterior circumstances of life. Such freedom, such independence of external influences, were unknown to him who attached so much importance to liberty and independence! And when it is thus, there is in the soul, however generous, a hidden germ of weakness and egoism which we are surprised to see suddenly manifested at a later period, even in those who display the most lofty sentiments and give proofs of the most impetuous courage.