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"What is the matter?" she inquired, unable to master her alarm "what has happened?" "Ah! a great misfortune!" "My God! still another?" "I have been to the Rue de Courcelles; and I have spoken to Madame Leon." "What did she say?" "The Count de Chalusse died this morning." Madame Ferailleur drew a long breath, as if greatly relieved.
'Marguerite, said she, 'salute Monsieur le Comte de Chalusse." For some little time there had been a noise of footsteps and a subdued murmur of voices in the vestibule. Annoyed by this interruption, although he perfectly understood its cause, the magistrate rose and hastily opened the door. He was not mistaken.
"Everything was progressing finely, when M. de Chalusse was in his turn obliged to start for Germany, having been informed that a sister of his, who had fled from the paternal roof with nobody knows who, had been seen there. He had been absent some four months or so, when one morning the post brought him a letter from his pretty mistress, who wrote: 'We are lost!
But the doctor, copying his model, had stationed himself near the fireplace, with his elbow leaning on the mantel-shelf, in a graceful, though rather pompous attitude. "Now," he said, addressing his remarks to M. Casimir, "I desire to make a few inquiries. Is this the first time the Count de Chalusse has had such an attack?" "Yes, sir at least since I have been in attendance upon him."
The friends of M. de Chalusse who were to hold the cords of the pall came forward. There was a moment's confusion, then the hearse started, and the whole cortege filed out of the courtyard. Deep silence followed, so deep that the noise made in closing the heavy gates came upon one with startling effect. "Ah!" moaned Madame de Fondege, "it is over."
"I was stupefied and alarmed by the sudden terror which M. de Chalusse had displayed and could not control. What could it all mean? What sorrowful recollections, what mysterious apprehensions, had my words aroused in the count's mind? I could not understand or imagine why he should regard my question as strange or unnatural.
And while they crossed several scantily-furnished apartments, Madame de Fondege continued: "It is I who ought to apologize to you. I fear you will pine for the splendors of the Hotel de Chalusse. We are not millionaires like your poor father. We have only a modest competence, no more. But here we are!"
A vehicle was indeed waiting at the door, but not for the purpose of conveying me to the Hotel de Chalusse as was proved conclusively by the fact that his trunks were already strapped upon it. Besides, the coachman must have received his instructions in advance for he drove us straight to the Havre Railway station without a word.
But nonsense! society has no prejudices nowadays when millionaires are concerned, and asks no questions respecting their parents. Society only requires passports of the indigent. Besides, no matter what Madame d'Argeles might have done, she was none the less a Chalusse, the descendant of one of the most aristocratic families in France.
"Our carriage had drawn up outside the railway station, and the next instant we alighted. Then, for the first time, I learned the magical power of money, I, a poor girl reared by public charity and who for three years had worked for my daily bread. M. de Chalusse found the servants, who were to accompany us, awaiting him.
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