"Why should I be sad?"

"But when one loves pa.s.sionately, nothing is more cruel than absence and separation, and, above all, the fear of never seeing the beloved object again."

"That is true; and notwithstanding the effects of this profound pa.s.sion, I declare to you they have a very different result with me."

"What must I say to you? When I began to love Charles, I should have died of distress if I had been separated from him."

"That is singular. My pa.s.sion, I repeat to you, manifests itself in an entirely different fashion. There is not a day in which I do not think of my hero, my ideal; not a day in which I do not recall with love, in the smallest details, the only circ.u.mstances under which I saw him; not a day in which I do not turn all my thought to him; not a day in which I do not triumph with pride in comparing him to others, for he is the most beautiful of the most beautiful, most generous of the most generous; in fact, thanks to him, not a day in which I do not lull myself in the most beautiful dreams. Yes, it seems to me that my soul is for ever attached to his by cords as mysterious as they are indissoluble. I do not know if I shall ever behold him again, and yet I feel in my heart only delight and cheerfulness."

"I must say, as you do, my dear Madeleine, that it is very singular."

"Come, Sophie, let us talk sincerely; we are alone and, among women, although I am still a young lady to be married or a marriageable girl, we can say the truth. You find my love, do you not, a little platonic?

You are astonished to see me so careless or ignorant of the thrill you felt, when for the first time the hand of Charles pressed your hand in love?"

"Come, Madeleine, you are getting silly."

"Be frank, I have guessed your feeling."

"A little, but less than you think."

"That little suffices to penetrate your inmost thought, Madame Materialist."

"I say again, Madeleine, you are growing silly."

"Oh, oh, not so silly!"

Then, after a moment's silence, the marquise resumed, with a smile:

"If you only knew, Sophie, the strange, extraordinary, I might say incomprehensible things that have come in my life! What extravagant adventures have happened to me since our separation! My physician and my friend, the celebrated Doctor Gasterini, a great philosopher as well, has told me a hundred times there is not a creature in the world as singularly endowed as myself."

"Explain your meaning."

"Later, perhaps."

"Why not now?"

"If I had a sorrow to reveal, do you think I would hesitate? But, notwithstanding all that has been extraordinary in my life, or perhaps for that particular reason, I have been the happiest of women. Oh, my G.o.d! wait, for this moment I have almost a sorrow for my want of heart and memory."

"A want of memory?"

"Yes, of Antonine; have I not forgotten her since I have been here, talking to you only of myself? Is it wicked? Is it ingrat.i.tude enough?"

"I would be at least as culpable as you, but we need not reproach ourselves. This morning she came to bring me your letter and announce your arrival to me. Think of her joy, for she has, you can believe me, the strongest and most tender attachment to you."

"Poor child, how natural and charming she was! But tell me, has she fulfilled the promise of her childhood? She ought to be as pretty as an angel, with her fifteen years just in flower."

"You are right; she is a rosebud of freshness; add to that the finest, most delicate features that you could ever see. After the death of her nearest relative, she came, as you know, to live with her uncle, President Hubert, who has always been kind to her. Unhappily, he is now seriously ill, and should she lose him she would be compelled to go and live with some distant relatives, and the thought makes her very sad.

Besides, you will see her and she will give you her confidence. She has made one to me, in order to ask my advice, for the circ.u.mstances are very grave."

"What is this confidence?"

"'If you see Madeleine before I do,' said Antonine to me, 'tell her nothing, my dear Sophie. I wish to confide all to her myself; it is a right which her affection for me gives me. I have other reasons, too, for laying this injunction on you.' So you see, my dear friend, I am obliged, perforce, to be discreet."

"I do not insist upon knowing more. To-day or to-morrow I will go to see this dear child," said the marquise, rising to take leave of Madame Dutertre.

"You leave me so soon, Madeleine?"

"Unfortunately, I must. I have an appointment from three to four, at the house of the Mexican envoy, my compatriot. He is going to conduct me to-morrow to the palace of a foreign Royal Highness. You see, Sophie, I am among the grandees."

"A Highness?"

"Such a Highness that, like all princes who belong to the reigning foreign families, he resides in the elysee-Bourbon during his sojourn in Paris."

Madame Dutertre could not restrain a movement of surprise, and said, after a minute's reflection:

"That is singular."

"What, pray?"

"Antonine lives in a house contiguous to the elysee. There is nothing very surprising in that, but--"

"But what?"

"I cannot tell you more, Madeleine; when you have heard Antonine's confidences you will comprehend why I have been struck with this coincidence."

"What is there in common with Antonine and the elysee?"

"I tell you again, my dear friend, wait for the confidences of Antonine."

"So be it, my mysterious friend. Besides, I did not know she lived near the palace. I addressed a letter to her at her old dwelling-house. That suits my plans marvellously; I will go to see her before or after my audience with the prince."

"Come, what a great lady you are!"

"Pity me, rather, my dear Sophie, because it is a question of entreaty, not for myself, I am not in the habit of begging, but it concerns an important service to be done for a proscribed family, and one worthy of the highest interest. The mission is very difficult, very delicate; however, I consented to undertake it at the time of my departure from Venice, and I desire to try everything which can further my success."

"And surely you will succeed. Can any one refuse you anything? Do you remember when we were at school, as soon as a pet.i.tion was to be addressed to our mistress you were always chosen as amba.s.sadress; and they were right, for, really, you seem to possess a talisman for obtaining all you want."

"I a.s.sure you, my good Sophie," replied Madeleine, smiling in spite of herself, "I a.s.sure you I am often a magician without trying to be one.

My G.o.d!" added the marquise, laughing, "how many fine extravagances I have to tell you. But we will see, some other time. Come, dear Sophie, good-bye,--will see you soon."

"Oh, yes, come again soon, I implore you!"

"My G.o.d! you can count on my coming almost every day, because I am a bird of pa.s.sage, and I have decided to employ my time in Paris well, that is to say, I shall see you very often."

"What! you are not thinking of leaving Paris soon?"

"I do not know; that will depend upon the inspiration that my hero, my pa.s.sion, my ideal will give me, for I decide on nothing without consulting him in thought. But, as he always inspires me admirably, I doubt not he will induce me to stay near you as long a time as possible."

"Ah, my G.o.d, Madeleine; but, now I think of it, you told my husband that you had a favour to ask of him."