"I?" said Rudolph, supporting himself on a chair, for he felt his knees giving way under him.

"I tell your highness, that you are as much disturbed as I am. What is the matter?"

"Although I should die under the blow, beg Madame d'Harville to enter,"

cried the prince. By a strange sympathy, the visit, so unexpected, so extraordinary, had awakened in both Murphy and Rudolph a certain vague and indefinite hope; but this hope seemed so extravagant, that neither one nor the other dared to avow it.

Madame d'Harville, followed by Murphy, entered the cabinet. Ignorant, as we have said, that Fleur-de-Marie was the daughter of the prince, Madame d'Harville, in her joy at bringing back his protegee, had not thought she would be able to present her to him without previous preparation: she had left her in the carriage at the door, as she did not know whether the prince was willing to make himself known to the young girl, and receive her in his own house. But perceiving the great alteration in the looks of Rudolph, and remarking in his eyes the traces of recent tears, Clemence thought he had met with some misfortune more severe than the death of La Goualeuse; thus forgetting the object of her visit, she cried, "What is the matter with your highness?"

"Are you ignorant, madame? Ah! all hope is lost. Your haste--the interview you have so earnestly demanded--I thought----"

"Oh! I entreat you, let us not speak of the object of my visit. In the name of my father, whose life you saved, I have almost the right to demand from you the cause of the affliction in which you are plunged. Your state of dejection, your paleness, alarms me. Oh! speak, my lord; be generous--speak--have pity on my distress."

"For what good, madame? my wound is incurable."

"These words redouble my alarm, my lord; explain yourself--Sir Walter, what is it?"

"Well!" said Rudolph, in a hollow voice, making a violent effort to restrain himself, "since I informed you of the death of Fleur-de-Marie, I have learned that she was my child."

"Fleur-de-Marie your child!" cried Clemence, in a tone impossible to be described.

"Yes; and just now, when you asked to see me immediately, to inform me of something that would overwhelm me with joy--have pity on my weakness--but a father, mad with grief at the loss of his child, is capable of indulging in many mad hopes. For a moment I thought--that--but no, no; I see I deceived myself. Pardon me; I am but a miserable, foolish man."

Rudolph, exhausted by the violence of his feelings, fell back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Madame d'Harville remained stupefied, immovable, dumb, breathing with difficulty--in turns a prey to joy, to fear, for the effect which the revelation she was about to make might have upon the prince--in fine, exalted by a holy grat.i.tude toward Providence, who intrusted her--_her_--to announce to Rudolph that his daughter lived, and she had brought her back to him. Clemence, agitated by these emotions, so violent, so diverse, could not utter a word. Murphy, after having for a moment partaken of the mad hopes of the prince, seemed quite as much overcome as he was. Suddenly the marchioness, yielding to an unexpected and involuntary emotion, forgetting the presence of Murphy and Rudolph, sunk on her knees, clasped her hands, and cried, with an expression of fervent piety and ineffable grat.i.tude:

"Thanks, my G.o.d! be praised! I acknowledge Thy sovereign will. Thanks once more, for Thou hast chosen me to inform him that his child is saved!"

Although said in a low voice, these words, p.r.o.nounced in a tone of sincere and holy fervor, reached the ears of Murphy and the prince. The latter raised his head quickly at the moment Clemence arose from the ground. It is impossible to describe the look, action, and expression of Rudolph, on contemplating Madame d'Harville, whose charming features, stamped with a celestial joy, shone at this moment with superhuman beauty. Leaning with one hand on the marble table, and compressing with the other the rapid pulsations of her heart, she gave an affirmative nod of the head in answer to a look from Rudolph, which once more we are unable to describe.

"Below--in my carriage."

Save for the presence of Murphy, who, quick as lightning, threw himself before Rudolph, he would have rushed at once to the street.

"My lord, you would kill her!" cried the squire, holding back the prince.

"Only since yesterday she is convalescent. For her life, no imprudence, my lord," added Clemence.

"You are right," said Rudolph, restraining himself with difficulty; "you are right--I will be calm--I will not see her yet--I will wait--let my first emotions be controlled. Ah! it is too much--too much in one day!"

added he, in a broken voice. Then, addressing Madame d'Harville, and extending his hand toward her, he cried, with a burst of inexpressible grat.i.tude, "I am pardoned! You are the angel of mercy!"

"Your highness restored to me my father--Heaven willed that I should bring back your child," answered Clemence. "But, in my turn, I ask your pardon for my weakness. This revelation--so sudden, so unexpected--has confused me. I confess that I have not the courage to go for Fleur-de-Marie--my agitation would alarm her."

"And how was she saved?" cried Rudolph. "See my ingrat.i.tude. I have not yet asked you this question."

"At the moment she was drowning, she was rescued from a watery grave by a courageous woman."

"Do you know her?"

"To-morrow she will come to see me."

"The debt is immense," said the prince, "but I shall know how to pay it."

"What a happy circ.u.mstance, my G.o.d! that I did not bring Fleur-de-Marie with me," said the marchioness; "this scene would have been fatal to her."

"It is true, madame," said Murphy; "it is a providential chance that she is not here."

"Now," said the prince, who had for a few moments been endeavoring to conquer his emotions, "now I have self-command, I a.s.sure you. Murphy, go and seek _my daughter._" These words, _my daughter_, were p.r.o.nounced by the prince with an accent we will not attempt to express.

"Are you quite sure of yourself?" said Clemence. "No imprudence."

"Oh! be tranquil. I know the danger there would be for her--I will not expose her to it. My good Murphy, I entreat you--go--go!"

"Rea.s.sure yourself, madame," answered the squire, who had attentively observed the prince; "she can come. My lord will restrain himself."

"Then go--go quickly, my old friend."

"Yes, my lord; I ask but for a moment--one is not made of iron," said the good man, wiping away the traces of his tears; "she must not see that I have been weeping."

"Excellent man!" replied Rudolph, cordially pressing his hand.

"I am ready. I did not wish to pa.s.s through the servants' lines all in tears, like a Magadalen. But what shall I say?"

"Yes, what shall he say?" demanded the prince from Clemence.

"That M. Ruldolph wishes to see her--nothing more, it seems to me."

"Undoubtedly. Say that M. Rudolph wishes to see her, nothing more. Come, go--go."

"It is certainly the very best thing that can be said to her," answered the squire. "I will merely say that M. Rudolph wishes to see her; that will not cause her to conjecture anything--to foresee anything: it is the most reasonable way, truly."

But Sir Walter did not stir.

"Sir Walter," said Clemence, smiling, "you are afraid."

"It is true, my lady; in spite of my six-foot stature and my rough exterior, I am still under the influence of violent emotions."

"My friend, take care," said Rudolph; "wait a moment longer, if you are not sure of your self-possession."

"This time, my lord, I am victorious," said the baronet, after having pa.s.sed over his eyes his Herculean hand. "Really, at my age, this weakness is perfectly ridiculous. Fear nothing now."

And Murphy left the apartment with a firm step and tranquillized air. A moment of silence ensued; then Clemence, blushing, remembered that she was in Rudolph's house, and alone with him. The prince approached her, and said, almost timidly, "If I choose this day--this moment--to make you a sincere avowal, it is because the solemnity of this day--this moment--will add still more to the gravity of the confession. Ever since I have known you I have loved you. So long as concealment of this love was necessary, I concealed it; now that you are free, and have restored me my daughter, will you be to her a mother?"

"I, my lord!" cried Madame d'Harville. "What do you say?"

"I entreat you, do not refuse me; let this day decide my future happiness,"

said Rudolph tenderly.

Clemence also had loved the prince for a long time; she thought she was in a dream. The avowal of Rudolph, at once so simple, so serious, so touching--made under such circ.u.mstances, transported her with an unhoped-for happiness; she answered, hesitatingly, "My lord, it is for you to recall to mind the difference of rank--the interest of your sovereignty."

"First let me think of the interest of my heart--of that of my cherished daughter; make us both happy--oh! very happy. Permit me, who but now was without family, to say, 'My wife--my daughter;' allow this poor child--also without family--to say, 'My father--my mother--my sister;' for you have a daughter, who will become mine."