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Indeed, my head was in a confused state, and I was conscious of little but of the tender pressure of dear Madeleine's hand, from whom I must so soon part. We were to start as soon as night afforded us its friendly cover; but some hours of daylight remained. My father and M. Bourdinave had many business affairs to discuss, and Madeleine kept the children quiet, that they might not interrupt them.
None came. But suddenly the silence was broken by a stifled sob. It was Madeleine's maid, who, seated in a corner, was weeping bitterly. Madeleine had forgotten her presence. Prosper had been so surprised at finding Madeleine when he entered the room, that he kept his eyes fastened upon her face, and never once looked about him to see if anyone else were present.
Believing she was right, she was as inflexible as the Countess de Gramont herself. Maurice could not tear himself away; he was still lingering by Madeleine's side when Bertha and Gaston entered to pay their daily visit. The perfect joy that rendered luminous the countenance of Maurice, and the happy confusion depicted upon Madeleine's face, demanded but few words of explanation.
About noon, Maurice hastily entered Madeleine's boudoir and said, "I think there is some change in my father; his face is much paler and his eyes appear to be wandering about with a faint sign of consciousness; the motion of his right hand is restored, for he has lifted it several times. Pray come to him, Madeleine."
For I, who have known all Mademoiselle Madeleine's noble impulses, can best explain to you her con on onduct." The last word, which was the only one upon which he stammered, was followed by another emphatic ejaculation. Bertha, without heeding this interruption, asked, "And have you known where Madeleine was concealed all this time?" "Yes, mademoiselle, I knew."
But a painful impression of the previous evening lingered in his mind. Louise would be annoyed with him for keeping her waiting; and he shrank, in advance, from the thought of another disagreeable scene. He was not in the mood to-night, to soothe and console. As he entered the MOZARTSTRASSE, he saw that there was a light in Madeleine's window. She was at home, then.
And would it not be depriving Madeleine of an inestimable joy? The count grew impatient; he shouted out, in a clearer tone than he had been able to use since his first seizure, "To Madeleine's! To Madeleine's, I say! I will see Madeleine!" Maurice hesitated no longer and gave the order.
He had not seen Madeleine's beginnings. Javert owed the post which he occupied to the protection of M. Chabouillet, the secretary of the Minister of State, Comte Angeles, then prefect of police at Paris. When Javert arrived at M. sur M. the fortune of the great manufacturer was already made, and Father Madeleine had become Monsieur Madeleine.
But there was no change in the sick girl's condition; the doctor was perplexed, and spoke of a consultation. Madeleine was returning at two o'clock to relieve the nurse. "You are foolishly letting it upset you altogether," she reproved Maurice. "And it won't mend matters in the least. Go home and settle down to work, like a sensible fellow." He tried to follow Madeleine's advice.
As she entered the room again, however, she saw that Winnington had laid down his book. His eyes were now on Delia his lips parted. All the weather-beaten countenance of the man, its deep lines graven by strenuous living, glowed as from an inward light marvellously intense and pure. Madeleine's pulse leapt. She had her answer to her speculations of the afternoon.
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