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Updated: May 26, 2025
She did not indeed view it in that light, nor believe in and love him the less; she only thought she must have been foolish; but she took well to heart the lesson that she should henceforth keep such folly to herself as far as he was concerned, at any rate. As for M. Linders, this little conversation left him alarmed, perplexed, uneasy.
Legros, I am ready for you; ah, there is then one more chance in life!" "You are not fit to play, Monsieur," said the young man, stepping back; "I will come again to-morrow." "To-morrow!" answered M. Linders, with a sort of laugh, "have you then so many to-morrows that you can talk of them recklessly? Well, then, I will tell you I have not not one; but I have to-night, and that I will not lose.
"But it is there you are all in the wrong," says M. Linders, quite unmoved by his companion's uncomplimentary energy. "You agitate, you disturb yourself with the idea that some day you will become something great you begin to compare yourself with these men whose works you are for ever copying, with who knows? with Raffaelle, with Da Vinci "
These were the evenings; for the days there were pleasures enough too, though of a simpler kind, and more profitable, perhaps, for our poor little Madelon, in her gay unconscious dance through that mad Vanity Fair, innocent though it was for her as yet. Except on some special emergency, M. Linders rarely went to the gambling tables during the day.
M. Linders appeared scarcely to hear what he was saying; but in a few moments his face relaxed, and a new expression came into it, which seemed to soften the grey, ghastly look. "My poor little girl!" he said, with a sort of groan "my little Madelon! to leave thee all alone, pauvre petite!" "It was precisely of her that I wished to speak," said Graham.
"I am Madeleine Linders, and papa is dead; he sent me to be with Aunt Thérèse, but she is dead too Oh, save me, save me!" she cried, springing up with all the old terror upon her; "don't let them take me, papa, you made me promise that I would not stay there. Tell Aunt Thérèse to go away, papa; papa, save me!" and she clung to the doctor's arm.
M. Linders apparently saw no danger to Madelon's principles in these new friendships, or else, perhaps, he was bent on carrying out his plan of letting her get used to things; at any rate, he did not interfere with her spending as much time as she liked with both painter and musician; and every day through the winter she grew fonder of the society of the old violinist.
Immediately after breakfast the next morning Graham once more started for the convent, this time, however, leaving Madelon at the hotel. He had written from Paris to the Superior immediately after her brother's death, but had received no reply. M. Linders' letter he had kept by him to deliver in person when he should have reached Liége.
His dismay had been great, when, on his first visit to the convent, he had learnt that Mademoiselle Linders was dead, that her little niece had disappeared three or four months before, and that nothing had been heard of her since, with the exception of the vague, anonymous letter from Paris.
The feeble life, that with careful tending and cherishing might have flickered and lingered on yet a little longer, was all but quenched in this last supreme passion and effort. M. Linders never spoke again, and died in less than two hours, quietly at last, as men do for the most part die, it is said. "That poor child!" said Graham, "who will tell her?"
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