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Updated: May 29, 2025
"I would like to see the poor man," he said, sadly. "Come nearer, my good fellow; fear nothing!" He stepped forward, and by the flickering light of the candle which Marie-Anne held, he saw a spectacle which moved him more than the horrors of the bloodiest battle-field. The baron was lying upon the ground, his head supported on Mme. d'Escorval's knee.
He had been compelled to leave Paris by the proscribed list of the 24th of July that fatal list which summoned the enthusiastic Labedoyere and the honest and virtuous Drouot before a court-martial. And even in this solitude, M. d'Escorval's situation was not without danger.
If Lecoq was in haste to part company with Gevrol, it was because he was anxious to pursue his investigations still further, before appearing in M. d'Escorval's presence.
Maurice d'Escorval's name trembled upon her lips; but unfortunately she did not utter it, prevented by a strange expression on the face of her friend. How often one's destiny depends upon a circumstance apparently as trivial as this! "Impudent, worthless creature!" thought Mlle. Blanche.
"Only too well!" He said no more. The abbe had done all it was possible to do, and he now lifted the wounded man a little higher on Mme. d'Escorval's knee. This change of position elicited a moan that betrayed the unfortunate baron's intense sufferings. He opened his eyes and faltered a few words they were the first he had uttered. "Firmin!" he murmured, "Firmin!"
In fact, why should not the Sairmeuse have regretted their odious conduct? Was it impossible that Lacheneur, in spite of his indignation, should conclude to accept honorable separation? Such were M. d'Escorval's reflections. "To say that the marquis has been kind is saying too little," continued Lacheneur. "He has shown us the most delicate attentions.
Between the citadel wall and the edge of the precipice there is barely standing-room. The soldiers do not venture there even in the daytime." "There is one more important question. What is the distance from Monsieur d'Escorval's window to the ground?" "It is about forty feet from the base of the tower." "Good! And from the base of the tower to the foot of the precipice how far is that?"
During the decisive moments of life, when one's entire future depends upon a word, or a gesture, twenty contradictory inspirations can traverse the mind in the time occupied by a flash of lightning. On the sudden apparition of the young Marquis de Sairmeuse, Maurice d'Escorval's first thought was this: "How long has he been there? Has he been playing the spy? Has he been listening to us?
"That fellow is one of D'Escorval's servants," remarked M. Segmuller. "He's richer than I, and can well afford to keep a footman." "D'Escorval's," ejaculated Lecoq, "the magistrate who " "Precisely. He sent his man to me two or three days ago to ascertain what we were doing with our mysterious May." "Then M. d'Escorval is interested in the case?" "Prodigiously!
"But you have made Maurice wretched, unhappy, child; he has almost died." She raised her head proudly, sought M. d'Escorval's eyes, and when she had found them: "Look at me, Monsieur. Do you think that I, too, do not suffer?"
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