The countess was sitting with her back turned to the entrance; she did not perceive Madeleine until the latter stood beside her.
Madame de Gramont pushed back her chair with a repellant gesture, and, before her niece could speak, asked indignantly, "What is the meaning of this intrusion? Did you not receive my message, Mademoiselle de Gramont, and understand that I declined to see you?"
"I received it, madame," returned Madeleine, mildly and mournfully; "but I feel sure you will pardon an intrusion I could not avoid when you learn the cause which brings me here."
"I can divine your errand, Mademoiselle de Gramont; you probably imagine that, because I permitted my son to say that your marriage with Lord Linden would, _after a proper interval_, allow me to acknowledge you once more as a relative, your mere acceptance of his lordship"s hand ent.i.tles you to seize upon any frivolous excuse to force yourself upon my privacy. You are mistaken. I have no intention of recognizing _the mantua-maker_, and I forbid her to make any attempt to hold the most transient intercourse with me. I have already said, I will receive Lady Linden when I meet her in another country, where her history is unknown; but not until then. And now I must request you to retire, or you will compel me to leave my own apartment."
Madeleine had made one or two fruitless attempts to interrupt the countess; but now, as the latter moved toward the door, about to put her threat into execution, the young girl sprang after her and said, beseechingly,--
"I implore you not to go until you hear me! I did not come to speak of myself at all. I came in the hope of sparing you too severe a shock."
"Very generous on your part, but somewhat misjudged, as your unwelcome presence has given me as great a shock as I could well sustain."
"Ah, aunt,--Madame de Gramont,--do not speak so harshly to me! I have scarcely strength or courage left to tell you; I came to speak of--of Count Tristan."
"My son seems to have chosen a somewhat singular messenger, and one who he was well aware would be far from acceptable," returned the countess, wholly unmoved.
"He did not send me; I came myself; He is not aware of my coming, for--for"--
Madeleine"s voice failed her, and the countess took up her words.
"_For_ you desired to make me fully sensible of the length to which you carried your audacity. So be it! I am satisfied! Mademoiselle de Gramont, for the second time I request you to retire."
"I cannot, until I have told you that Count Tristan is--is not, not quite well; that is, he became indisposed at my house."
"In that case, it would have appeared to me more natural, and certainly more proper, if he had returned to his old residence, and spared me the pain of being apprised of his indisposition by an unwelcome messenger."
"He had no choice, or, rather, I had none. I feared to have the news broken in a manner that might alarm you too much, and therefore I would not even trust myself to write. Count Tristan was seized with,--I mean was taken ill while conversing with me. He is not in a state to return home at present, and I came to beg that his mother or his son will go to him."
"I comprehend you, Mademoiselle de Gramont; you were always politic in the highest degree. You know how to make the best of opportunities. You find my son"s temporary indisposition an admirable opportunity to lure his relatives to your house, and to make known to the world your connection with them. Your well-laid, dramatic little plot will fail.
Your good acting has not succeeded in alarming me, and I see no reason why Count Tristan de Gramont, in spite of his sudden illness, should not send for a carriage and return to the hotel. By your own confession, the step you have taken is unwarranted; for you admitted that my son was not aware of your intention."
"Because he was too ill to be aware of it, madame," replied Madeleine, with an involuntary accent of reproach.
The cold and cruel conduct of the countess did not render her niece less compa.s.sionate, less fearful of wounding; but it inspired her with the resolution, which she had before lacked, to impart the fearful tidings.
"He is too ill to be moved at this moment. I sent for medical aid at once, and everything has been done to restore him."
"_Restore him?_ What do you mean?" almost shrieked the countess, now becoming painfully excited, and struggling against her fears, as though, by disbelieving the calamity which had befallen her son, she could alter the fact. "Why do you try to alarm me in this manner? It is very inconsiderate! very cruel! You do it to revenge yourself upon me! Where is Maurice? Where is Bertha? I must have some one near me on whom I can depend! Why am I left at your mercy?"
"I asked for Maurice and Bertha before I attempted to force my way to you," returned Madeleine. "I was told that neither was at home. Pray do not allow yourself to be so much distressed. I have no doubt that we shall find Count Tristan better."
"_We_ shall find! What do you mean by _we_ shall find?" sternly demanded the countess, whose grief and alarm did not conquer her pride, though her voice trembled as she asked the question.
"My carriage is at the door: I thought I might venture to propose that you would enter it, and return with me to my house, that no time might be lost." Madeleine said this with quiet dignity.
"_Your_ carriage? And you expect me to be seen _with you_, in _your_ carriage? I cannot comprehend your object, Mademoiselle de Gramont. What possesses you to try to exasperate me by your insolent propositions?"
"Pardon me; I did not mean to add to your trouble; if my suggestion was injudicious, disregard it. Nothing can be easier than to send for another carriage. Will you allow me to ring the bell for you to do so?
And, since you would not wish to be seen in my company, I can leave the house before you."
"And you expect me to follow? You expect that I will order the carriage to drive to the residence of _Mademoiselle Melanie_, the _mantua-maker_?"
"You need only say, "Drive to ---- street, number ----." My errand here is at an end. I pray you to pardon me, if I have executed it clumsily.
My sole intention was to spare you pain, and I almost fear that I have caused you more than I have shielded you from."
Madeleine was retiring, but the countess called her back.
"Stay! You have not told me all yet. What is the matter with my son? Was it a fainting fit? I never knew him guilty of the weakness of fainting."
It was difficult to answer this question without explaining the grave nature of the attack. Madeleine was silent.
"Did you not hear me? Why do you not answer?"
"The doctor did not call it a fainting fit," was Madeleine"s vague response. "Yet Count Tristan was in a state of insensibility, and had not spoken when I left him."
"Why did you leave him, then? How could you have been so neglectful?"
The countess burst out as though it was a relief to have some one on whom she could vent her wrath. "If he is seriously ill,--so ill as to continue insensible,--you should have remained by his side, and not left him to the improper treatment of strangers: it is abominable,--outrageous!"
"I will gladly hasten back. Pray be composed, madame, and let us hope for a favorable change. I expect to find him better. Before you reach the house, his consciousness may have returned."
Madeleine retired, without waiting for any further comment; for she had an internal conviction that whatever she did or said would be unpleasant to her aunt in her present troubled state.
There was no perceptible alteration in the condition of Count Tristan.
Ruth, who was sitting by his side, said he had scarcely stirred. His face still wore a purplish hue, and his gla.s.sy, bloodshot eyes, though wide open, were vacant and expressionless. He lay as still as if deprived of sensation and motion.
Madeleine had been at home nearly an hour before she heard the carriage which contained the countess stop at the door. Madame de Gramont, even in a case of such extremity, was not able to complete her arrangements hurriedly.
Madeleine, when she went forth to receive her relative, was much relieved to find her accompanied by Bertha.
Bertha threw herself in Madeleine"s arms, whispering, "Is he _very_ ill?"
"Yes, I fear so," answered Madeleine, in too low a voice for the countess to hear. Then turning to Madame de Gramont, she inquired, gently, "Do you wish to go to him at once?"
"For what other purpose have I come?" was the ungracious rejoinder.
Madeleine led the way to the apartment, and motioned Ruth to withdraw.
The countess walked up to the bed with a firm step, as though nerving herself to disbelieve that anything serious was the matter.
"My son!" she said, in a voice somewhat choked, but which expressed confidence that he would immediately reply, "My son! why do you not answer me?"
She took his hand; it remained pa.s.sive in hers; his eyes still stared vacantly. His mother more tightly grasped the hand she held, shook it a little, and called out to him again in a hoa.r.s.er tone; but there was no answer.
Bertha burst into tears, and knelt down sobbing by the bed.
"Hush!" said the countess, angrily. "You will disturb him. Why do you cry so? It is nothing serious,--nothing _very_ serious;" and she looked around appealingly, her eyes resting, in spite of herself, upon Madeleine.