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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Have you forgotten that the doctor has expressly forbidden you to stir?" Then taking aside the commissary, Maxence, and M. de Tregars, she explained to them how imprudent it was to disturb Mlle. Lucienne's rest. She was very ill, affirmed the worthy hostess; and her advice was, that they should send for a sick-nurse as soon as possible.
Lazare, of course: in the apartment that I hired two weeks ago." In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success, "Would you consent to take me there?" asked M. de Tregars. "Whenever you like, to-morrow." As he left Mlle. Lucienne's room, "There is nothing more to keep me at the Hotel des Folies," said the commissary of police to Maxence.
For the past twenty-four hours, the worthy hostess had been watching for her guest, in the hopes of obtaining some information which she might communicate to the neighbors. Without even condescending to answer, a piece of rudeness at which she felt much hurt, he crossed the narrow court of the hotel at a bound, and started up stairs. Mlle. Lucienne's room was open.
And he had some fierce moments in which he thought of Louise, and of Lucienne's sister, and of Mariette, and of Pennell, and, last of all, of Jenks, and asked himself of what use a domesticated God could be to any of them. And then on the Thursday he came up to meet Julie. It thrilled him that she was in England somewhere and preparing to come to him.
Lucienne were noticing the flight of time, so interested were they, one in telling, and the other in listening to, this story of a wonderful existence. However, Mlle. Lucienne's voice had become hoarse with fatigue. She poured herself a glass of water, which she emptied at a draught, and then at once, "Never yet," she resumed, "had I been agitated by such a sweet sensation.
Lucienne's existence, her rides around the lake, for instance, in that carriage that came for her two or three times a week; her ever renewed costumes, each time more eccentric and more showy. But Maxence was not thinking of that. What she told him he accepted as absolutely true and indisputable.
Lucienne's hand, and, taking it to his lips, he covered it with kisses. Gently but resolutely she withdrew her hand, and, fixing upon him her beautiful clear gaze, "Friends," she uttered. Her accent alone would have been sufficient to dissipate the presumptuous illusions of Maxence, had he had any. But he had none. "Friends only," he replied, "until the day when you shall be my wife.
I was just rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was called our poor Lucienne's accident. Without even changing my clothes, I ran. The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces. Two policemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped. I inquire.
He acknowledged it, wept, implored her pardon, which was granted; and this explanation only served to rivet more closely the fetters that bound him. It is true, that, availing himself of the permission that had been granted him, he kept himself constantly informed of Mlle. Lucienne's doings.
For they were wonderfully puzzled by all those events that succeeded each other, and anxious about all these goings and comings. "I am going home," the commissary said to them; "but, before that, listen to my instructions. You will allow no one, you understand, no one who is not known to you, to go up to Mlle. Lucienne's room.
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