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M. Sabathier, who was slowly eating the grapes which his wife had been to fetch him, did not, however, question Ferrand, for he knew full well what his answer would be, and was weary, as he expressed it, of consulting all the princes of science; nevertheless he felt comforted as it were at seeing him set that poor consumptive woman on her feet again.
To his son he gave a letter from Sarah to her brother, betraying her cold-blooded ambitions. The young prince's love had frozen. Sarah gave birth to a child in England, whither she had fled. To all Rudolph's appeals for this child she gave no answer. She had turned it over to Jacques Ferrand, a notary in Paris.
What must have been your affright at this proposition!" "It was a great blow. I was completely bewildered; I knew not what to answer; I looked at M. Ferrand with affright; my mind wandered. I was about, perhaps, to risk my life in telling him that I had overheard his projects in the morning, when, happily, I recollected the new dangers to which this would expose me.
Notwithstanding his just horror, Rudolph felt an emotion of pity for the unheard-of suffering of Jacques Ferrand; he ordered him to be laid on a sofa. This was not done without difficulty; for, fearing to be submitted again to the direct action of the light, the notary struggled violently, but when it streamed in his face he uttered another yell, which filled Rudolph with terror.
Chance alone had brought them face to face again, for Ferrand was not a believer, and if he found himself in that train it was simply because he had at the last moment consented to take the place of a friend who was suddenly prevented from coming. For nearly a twelvemonth he had been a house-surgeon at the Hospital of La Pitie.
Patience, I'll catch him one of these days, and then, let him look out! he shall taste the handle of my broom!" The door opened, and Mrs. Seraphin, housekeeper of Jacques Ferrand, entered. "Good-day, Mrs. Seraphin," said Mrs. Pipelet, who, wishing to conceal from a stranger her domestic sorrows, assumed a very gracious and smiling air; "what can I do to serve you?"
As it happened, Sister Hyacinthe was just bringing Ferrand, whom Sister Saint-Francois had kept with her in a closet near the linen-room which he proposed to make his quarters. "Madame," said he to Madame de Jonquiere, "I am entirely at your disposal. In case of need you will only have to ring for me."
In his grave and toneless voice, brushing his hair from off his brow, he descanted upon Ferrand with enthusiasm, to which was joined a kind of shocked amusement, as who should say, "Of course, I know it's very odd, but really he 's such an awfully interesting person."
Ferrand, knowing how powerless he was, had withdrawn to the window, to the very spot where he had so lately experienced such delicious emotion; and with an instinctive movement, of which she was surely unconscious, Sister Hyacinthe had likewise returned to that happy window, as though to be near him. "Really, can you do nothing?" she inquired. "No, nothing!
Jacques Ferrand went into new ecstasies, on the beauty of features, and the enchanting figure of his new maid. "Look me full in the face," said Cecily, resolutely; "although dressed as an Alsatian peasant, do I look like a servant?" "What do you mean to say?" cried Jacques Ferrand. "Mark this hand is it accustomed to rude labor?"
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