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Updated: June 8, 2025
Notwithstanding Camors's unwillingness, Lescande detained him until he had extorted a promise to come and dine with them that is, with him, his wife, and his mother-in-law, Madame Mursois on the following Tuesday. This acceptance left a cloud on the spirit of Camors until the appointed day. Besides abhorring family dinners, he objected to being reminded of the scene of the balcony.
Near the end of May, one of these occasions, always impatiently awaited on both sides, presented itself, and M. de Camors at midnight penetrated into the little garden of the old 'sous-officier'. At the moment when he turned the key in the gate of the enclosure, he thought he heard a slight sound behind him.
At this moment Vautrot ceased to read, dropped his book, sighed profoundly, and stared a moment. Then he knelt at the feet of the Comtesse de Camors! He took her hand; he said, with a tragic sigh, "Poor angel!" It will be difficult to understand this incident and the unfortunately grave results that followed it, without having the moral and physical portrait of its principal actor.
"Good heavens! my friend," laughed Lescande, "and that suffices you for happiness?" "That and the principles of 'eighty-nine," replied Camors, lighting a fresh cigar from the old one. Here their dialogue was broken by the fresh voice of a woman calling from the blinds of the balcony "Is that you, Theodore?"
Superbly aloof from these agreeable impressions, Louis de Camors, a little pale, with half-closed eyes and a cigar between his teeth, rode into the Rue de Bourgogne at a walk, broke into a canter on the Champs Elysees, and galloped thence to the Bois. After a brisk run, he returned by chance through the Porte Maillot, then not nearly so thickly inhabited as it is to-day.
It was not until late the next morning that Camors regretted his outbreak of sincerity; for, during the remainder of the night, still filled with his excitement, agitated and shaken by the passage of the god, sunk into a confused and feverish reverie, he was incapable of reflection.
The house he occupied was about to be taken again by its proprietor. The middle of September approached, and it was the time when the Marquise was in the habit of returning to Paris. She proposed to M. de Camors to occupy the chateau during the few days he purposed passing in the country.
Since she patronizes the turf and subscribes for 'The Sport', she says to me, 'Your friend's horse has won again'; and in our family circle we rejoice over your triumphs." A flush tinged the cheek of Camors as he answered, quietly, "You are really too good." They walked a moment in silence over the gravel path bordered by grass, before Lescande spoke again.
Camors might immediately divulge their secret: and once betrayed, there was not only for her personal dishonor, a scandalous fall, poverty, a convent but for her husband or her lover perhaps for both death! When the bell in the lower court sounded, announcing the Count's approach, these thoughts crowded into the brain of the Marquise like a legion of phantoms.
My role is very simple. I cannot, at this moment, aid you, without betraying you. My assistance would only injure you, until a change comes in the aspect of affairs. You must conciliate him." "You overpower me," said Camors, "in taking you for my confidante in my ambitious projects, I have committed a blunder and an impertinence, which a slight contempt from you has mildly punished.
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