M. de Saint-Remy started, looked at Madame d"Harville with surprise, as he recollected Fleur-de-Marie, and exclaimed:
"Ah, madame, what a singular coincidence! This young girl they sought to drown--"
"In the Seine, near Asnieres, as I am told."
""Tis she! "Tis she!" cried Saint-Remy.
"Of whom do you speak, sir?"
"Of the young girl whom this monster sought to drown. Do you know her, madame?"
"Poor dear! I love her tenderly. Ah, if you knew, sir, how lovely, how prepossessing she was! But tell me what you mean."
"Doctor Griffon and I gave her the first a.s.sistance."
"First a.s.sistance to her! And in what way?"
"At the Isle du Ravageur, where she was saved."
"Saved! Fleur-de-Marie saved?"
"By a worthy creature, who, at the risk of her life, saved her from the Seine. But what ails you, madame?"
"Ah, sir, I fear to believe in such good fortune; but, I pray of you, tell me what is the appearance of this young girl?"
"Singularly beautiful!"
"Large, blue eyes,--light brown hair?"
"Yes, madame."
"And when she was drowned, there was an elderly woman with her?"
"It was only yesterday she was well enough to speak, and she is still very weak; she said an elderly woman accompanied her."
"Praised be Heaven!" said Clemence, clasping her hands with fervour; "I can now tell him that his protegee still lives! What joy for him who, in his last letter, spoke to me of this poor child with such bitter regrets! Excuse me, sir, but you know not how happy your intelligence renders me, and will make a person who, more than myself, has loved and protected Fleur-de-Marie. But, for mercy"s sake, tell me, where is she at this moment?"
"Near Asnieres, in the house of one of the surgeons of this hospital, Doctor Griffon; she was taken there, and has had every attention."
"And is she out of danger?"
"Yes, madame, but only during the last two or three days, and to-day she will be permitted to write to her protector."
"Oh, I will undertake to do that, sir; or, rather, I shall have the pleasure of taking her to those who, believing her dead, regret her so bitterly!"
"I can understand those regrets, madame, for it is impossible to see Fleur-de-Marie without being charmed with her grace and sweetness. The woman who saved her, and has since watched her night and day as she would an infant, is a courageous and devoted person, but of a disposition so excitable that she has been called La Louve."
"I know La Louve," said the marquise, smiling as she thought of the pleasure she had in store for the prince. What would have been her ecstasy, had she known she was the daughter he believed dead that she was about to restore to Rodolph! Then, addressing the nun who had given some spoonfuls of a draught to Mlle. de Fermont, she said, "Well, sister, is she recovering?"
"Not yet, madame, she is so weak. Poor, young thing! One can scarcely feel her pulse beat."
"I will wait, then, until she is sufficiently restored to be put into my carriage; but tell me, sister, amongst these unfortunate patients, do you know any who particularly deserve interest and pity, and to whom I could be useful before I leave the hospital?"
"Ah, madame, Heaven has sent you here!" said the sister. "There," and she pointed to the bed of Pique-Vinaigre"s sister, "is a poor woman much to be pitied, and very bad; she only came in when quite exhausted, and is past all comfort, because she has been obliged to abandon her two small children, who have no other support in the world. She said just now to the doctor that she must go out, cured or not, in a week, because her neighbours had promised to take care of her children for that time only and no longer."
"Take me to her bed, I beg of you, sister," said Madame d"Harville, rising and following the nun.
Jeanne Duport, who had scarcely recovered from the violent shock which the investigations of Doctor Griffon had caused her, had not remarked the entrance of Madame d"Harville; what, then, was her astonishment, when the marquise, lifting up the curtains of her bed, and looking at her with great pity and kindness, said:
"My good woman, do not be uneasy about your children, I will take care of them; so only think of getting well, that you may go to them."
Poor Jeanne thought she was in a dream, she could only clasp her hands in speechless grat.i.tude, and gaze on her unknown benefactress.
"Once again a.s.sure yourself, my worthy woman, and have no uneasiness,"
said the marquise, pressing in her small and delicate white hands the burning hand of Jeanne Duport; "and, if you prefer it, you shall leave the hospital this very day and be nursed at home; everything shall be done for you, so that you need not leave your children; and, if your lodging is unhealthy or too small, you shall have one found that is more convenient and suitable, so that you may be in one room and your children in another; you shall have a good nurse, who will watch them whilst she attends to you, and when you entirely recover, if you are out of work, I will take care that you are provided for until work comes, and I will also take care of your children for the future."
"Ah, what do I hear?" said Jeanne Duport, all trembling and hardly daring to look her benefactress in the face. "Why are so many kindnesses showered on me? It is not possible! I leave the hospital, where I have wept and suffered so much, and not leave my children again! Have a nurse! Why, it is a miracle!"
"It is no miracle, my good woman," said Clemence, much affected. "What I do for you," she added, blushing slightly at the remembrance of Rodolph, "is inspired by a generous spirit, who has taught me to sympathise with misfortune, and it is he whom you should thank."
"Ah, madame, I shall ever bless you!" said Jeanne, weeping.
"Well, then, you see, Jeanne," said Lorraine, much affected, "there are also amongst the rich Rigolettes and Goualeuses with good hearts."
Madame d"Harville turned with much surprise towards Lorraine when she heard her mention the two names.
"Do you know La Goualeuse and a young workwoman called Rigolette?" she inquired of Lorraine.
"Yes, madame; La Goualeuse--good little angel!--did for me last year, according to her small means, what you are going to do for Jeanne. Yes, madame, and it does me good to say and repeat it to everybody, La Goualeuse took me from a cellar in which I had been brought to bed on the straw, and--dear, good girl!--placed me and my child in a room where there was a good bed and a cradle; La Goualeuse spent the money from pure charity, for she scarcely knew me, and was poor herself. But how good it was! Was it not, madame?" said Lorraine.
"Yes, yes; charity from the poor to the poor is great and holy!" said Clemence, with her eyes moistened by soft tears.
"It was the same with Mademoiselle Rigolette, who, according to her little means as a sempstress," said Lorraine, "some days ago offered her kind services to Jeanne."
"How singular!" said Clemence to herself, more and more affected, for each of these two names, Goualeuse and Rigolette, reminded her of a n.o.ble action of Rodolph. "And you, my child, what can I do for you?" she said to Lorraine; "I could wish that the names you p.r.o.nounce with so much grat.i.tude should also bring you good fortune."
"Thank you, madame," said Lorraine, with a smile of bitter resignation.
"I had a child, it is dead; I am in a decline and past all hope."
"What a gloomy idea! At your age there is always hope."
"Oh, no, madame, I saw a consumptive patient die last night. Yet as you are so good, a great lady like you must be able to do anything."
"Tell me, what do you wish?"
"Since I have seen the actress who is dead so distressed at the idea of being cut in pieces after her death, I have the same fear. Jeanne had promised to claim my body, and have me buried."
"Ah, this is horrible!" said Clemence, shuddering. "Be tranquil, although I hope the time is far distant, yet, when it comes, be a.s.sured that your body shall rest in holy ground."