"We must hope not," said the latter, now venturing to draw near. "The doctor will be here again shortly, and, if you would permit me to advise, I would suggest that Count Tristan should remain undisturbed."
"I only ask that he will speak to me once!" exclaimed the countess, in peevish distress. "A _mother_ may demand that! Do you not hear me, my son? Why, why will you not answer?"
Her voice was raised to a high pitch, but it did not seem to reach the ears of the insensible man.
Voices in the entry attracted Madeleine"s attention; the sound of well-known tones reached her ears, and she hastily left the room.
The servant was communicating to Maurice the sad event which had just taken place. Madeleine beckoned her cousin to follow to her boudoir, and, in a few words, recounted what had just taken place.
Maurice had listened, too completely awe-stricken for language, until Madeleine rose and asked, "Will you not go to him now, Maurice?"
Then he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "How mysteriously all things are ordered, Madeleine!
Truly you are the ministering angel of our family!"
As Maurice, with Madeleine, entered the chamber where Count Tristan lay, the countess experienced a revulsion of feeling at beholding them side by side, and cried out, in a louder tone than seemed natural in that chamber at such a moment,--
"Maurice! Maurice! I have wanted you so much to advise me! You see your father"s condition: he does not seem to recognize us; but it cannot be anything serious. The great point is to make arrangements for removing him at once to the hotel. You must attend to that; I wish no time to be lost."
Maurice was gazing in dumb anguish upon his father"s altered face, and, though no tears moistened his eyes, his frame shook with emotion far more painful to man than weeping is to woman.
"You will see to his immediate removal," repeated his grandmother, authoritatively, finding that he did not notice her request.
"That cannot be done with safety, I feel certain," answered Maurice.
"But he cannot remain here," persisted the countess. "He must be taken to the hotel, where I can watch by him."
"You would not have the attempt made at the risk of his life?" remarked Maurice, with more sternness than he intended.
Madeleine gently interposed.
"Dr. Bayard, the physician who was called in, promised to return in a couple of hours: he must be here shortly: will it not be best to ask his opinion? And if he says Count Tristan cannot yet be removed with safety, I entreat, madame, that you will allow me to place this suite of apartments at your disposal and his. They are wholly disconnected with the rest of the house, and you can be as private as you desire."
"Do you expect _me_ to remain under this roof? _Your roof?_ Do you imagine that I will allow my son to remain here, even in his present condition? Oh, this is too much! This would be more terrible than all the rest! I could not humble myself to endure _that!_"
The countess spoke in a perfect agony of mortification.
Madeleine only replied, "There is no necessity for a decision until you have consulted the physician."
Maurice thought it wise to echo her words; the countess was partially soothed, for the time being, and sat down to await the coming of Dr.
Bayard.
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.
THE MANTUA-MAKER"S GUESTS.
Around Count Tristan"s bed were grouped in silence his four nearest of kin, waiting for the physician who was to decide upon the possibility of removal. The countess sat erect and motionless by her son"s head. Her countenance wore a look of granite hardness, as though she were fighting her grief with _Spartan_-like determination which would not let her admit, even to herself, that any anguish preyed upon her heart. Maurice sat at the foot of the bed, mournfully watching the spasmodic movements of his stricken father: they were but feeble and few. Madeleine had placed herself upon the other side of the couch. Her instinctive delicacy prompted her to withdraw as far as possible from the countess.
Bertha had softly stolen to Madeleine"s side, and sat silently clasping her hand, and leaning against her shoulder; for hers was one of those clinging, vine-like natures that ever turn for support to the object nearest and strongest.
This was the disposition of the group when Ruth Thornton entered the room on tiptoe and placed a card in Madeleine"s hand.
"Did you tell him what had occurred?" whispered Madeleine.
"I did, and he still begged to see you."
Though Ruth spoke in a low voice, Bertha was so near that she heard her reply, and it caused her, almost unconsciously, to glance at the card.
"Say that I will be with him directly," said Madeleine.
"It is M. de Bois. I will go with you," murmured Bertha, rising at the same time as her cousin.
The countess did not move her eyes, but Maurice turned his head to look after them. Madeleine could never pa.s.s from his presence without his experiencing a sense of loss which inflicted a dull pang.
M. de Bois had been ushered into Madeleine"s boudoir. He had not antic.i.p.ated the happiness of seeing Bertha. When she entered, his start and flush of joy, and the gently confident manner in which he took her hand, and drew her toward him, might well have surprised Madeleine; but that surprise was quickly turned to positive amazement, for Bertha"s head drooped until its opulent golden curls swept his breast,--and--and--(if we record what ensued be it remembered that const.i.tutionally bashful men, stirred by a sudden impulse, have less control over their emotions than their calmer brothers)--and--in another second, his own head was bent down, and his lips lightly touched her pure brow, just where the fair hair parting ran on either side, in shining waves. Truly was that first kiss
"The chrism of Love, which Love"s own crown With sanctifying sweetness did precede."
Gaston"s ideas of what amount of tender demonstration punctilious decorum permitted a lover, had finally undergone an alarming modification, through the corrective influence of the social atmosphere he had inhaled during the last few years. In his own land the limited privileges of an accepted suitor do not extend thus far until the day before a wedding-ring encircles the finger of a bride. Is it on this account that the Parisian _Mrs. Grundy_, dreading some irresistible temptation, never allows affianced lovers to be left alone?
Bertha"s conceptions of propriety must also have been in a very unsettled state; for, albeit "to her brow the ruby mounted," that first kiss seemed to her to lie there as softly as an invisible gem, and she did not withdraw her head, nor look up reproachfully, nor utter one word of chiding.
Gaston noticed Madeleine"s wonder-struck look, and said, "You did not know, then, Mademoiselle Madeleine, how happy I am?"
Then Bertha escaped from the arm that encircled her, and nestling in her cousin"s bosom, faltered out, "I was so much troubled about Cousin Tristan that I could not tell you."
"One of my most cherished hopes has become reality!" returned Madeleine, fondly. "M. de Bois knows how much I have wished for this consummation; and I think you have known it, Bertha, ever since you made me a certain confession."
"What? Mademoiselle Bertha confessed to you, and you kept me in ignorance?" cried Gaston, reproachfully.
"I did _as I would be done by_,--an old rule that wears well, and keeps friendships golden."
There was a significance in Madeleine"s look comprehended by Gaston. It warned him that any confidence which she had reposed in him must be sacred, even from his betrothed bride.
Dr. Bayard was announced, and Madeleine conducted him to the chamber occupied by her suffering guest, and withdrew.
It strikes us that Madeleine"s interpretation of the rules of decorum must also have suffered by her residence in America; for she very coolly left the lovers to themselves, and, pa.s.sing through the dining-room, walked into the garden.
When she reentered her boudoir she found Gaston and Bertha conversing as happily as though no sorrow found place upon the earth, or certainly none beneath that roof; but, since the world began, lovers have been p.r.o.nounced selfishly forgetful of the rest of mankind. We have our doubts, however, whether their being wholly wrapped up in each other deserves so harsh a name as _selfishness_, since that very closeness of union renders souls richer and larger, and gives to each additional power to receive and communicate happiness, while thoroughly selfish people lack the capacity to impart good gifts, and are content with being recipients.
Madeleine had just seated herself opposite to the lovers, and was thinking what a pleasant picture to contemplate were those two radiant countenances, when Maurice entered with the physician.
"I fear, sir, you look upon my father"s state as very critical?"
"Very," replied Dr. Bayard, who was a man of such acknowledged ability that he could afford to be frank without being suspected of a desire to magnify the importance of a case under his treatment. "Apoplexy may be produced by various causes, hereditary disposition, high living, or anxiety of mind, or all united. I cannot decide what was the origin of Count Tristan de Gramont"s seizure. One side is entirely paralyzed, and the other slightly."
"Can he be removed to his hotel with safety?" inquired Maurice.