Chapter LII: The Little Angel

Léodgard had recovered his health; he was entirely cured; still, he had not left the abode of his ancestors. More than once he had formed the plan of returning to his _petite maison_ in Rue de Bretonvilliers; but whenever he had that idea, little Blanche was not with him. As soon as his daughter appeared, as soon as she came running into the room, smiling and holding out her little arms to him, all thought of going away was forgotten; the time passed so quickly with the child, and so pleasantly!

Blanche remained with her father almost all day; Bathilde deprived herself of the pleasure of having her child with her, because she felt that Blanche's presence alone detained Léodgard at the Hôtel de Marvejols. But when the little one had been away from her mother several hours in succession, she always asked to see her; for, in that loving heart, the love that she felt for the count in no wise diminished her affection for her mother.

And one day, when Blanche, having remained longer than usual with Léodgard, asked to go back to her mother, and he, holding her in his arms, would have kept her longer, the child suddenly said to him:

"Well! send for mamma to come here; then I will not ask to go away, because I shall be with both of you."

To this very natural suggestion the count made no reply; he simply cast down his eyes and sighed; but Blanche at once continued:

"Why doesn't mamma ever come here with me? When I ask her to, she always says: 'That would annoy monsieur le comte.'--Are you _monsieur le comte_?"

"To be sure," Léodgard replied, with a smile.

"Well! don't you want to have mamma come? Has she been naughty?"

Léodgard did not quite know what to say; children always go straight to the point with their questions, and often embarrass the persons to whom they propound them, because grown people are unable to answer as frankly as they are questioned.

But at that moment Bathilde, being anxious about her daughter, who did not usually remain so long in her father's apartment, drew the portière aside and stopped timidly in the doorway.

"Excuse me, monsieur le comte," she said, "for coming here unsummoned. But my daughter did not return, and I was afraid that she was not well."

Léodgard looked up at Bathilde. For the first time since she had been his wife, he observed her with attention; he was surprised at the changes for the better that had taken place in her whole person. On becoming a countess, the bath keeper's daughter had undergone a transformation. Endowed by nature with angelic beauty, she possessed now, in addition, grace, distinction, and refinement; she fascinated by her mere presence; one felt drawn toward her; and having no suspicion of her power, Bathilde augmented it by the charm of her smile and the sweet quality of her voice.

One would have said that Léodgard remarked all this as if he had never before looked at his wife; and Bathilde, who had not seen the count scrutinize her with so much interest for a long time, felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as if beneath the flame of a lover's glance. But in her eyes her husband was still the most beloved of lovers; she did not know which way to turn; yet she was happy, very happy; she began to hope that Léodgard might love her once more.

Blanche jumped down from her father's knee and ran to her mother.

"I wanted to come to see you," she said; "but papa didn't want to let me go. Now you are here, and Blanche is very glad! After this, you'll come here with me, won't you?"

Bathilde looked at her daughter and did not reply.

But Léodgard bent his head before his young wife, and said in a gracious tone:

"When you choose to come here, madame, you will always be welcome."

"You are too kind, monsieur le comte," faltered Bathilde, who felt that sobs would soon stifle her voice, and who longed, but did not yet dare, to throw herself into her husband's arms. She hastily led her daughter from the room and returned to her own apartment. There she took Blanche in her arms, strained her to her heart, and bathed her with her tears.

"You crying, mamma?" said Blanche.

"Oh! it is with pleasure, with happiness this time, my darling; and this happiness too I owe to you!"

On the day following this scene, about four in the afternoon, a servant entered the apartment of Léodgard, who had his daughter on his knee, and informed his master that a young man had called, saying that he was charged with a message for the Comte de Marvejols and that he desired to be admitted to his presence.

"What is the man's name?" inquired Léodgard.

"He refuses to give it, monsieur le comte; he desires to speak with you alone."

"Admit him."

In a few moments Bahuchet bowed to the floor before the count.

On recognizing the little clerk, his messenger to Valentine, Léodgard was conscious of a thrill of emotion; memories of the past awoke in his heart; and he put Blanche on the floor, saying:

"Go, my child, go to your mother; you may come back to me later."

"Yes, papa!--Oh! what an awfully ugly man!"

And the little girl left the room, taking care to avoid Bahuchet, whose presence seemed almost to terrify her.

"So it is you, messenger of disaster!" said Léodgard, when he and the little clerk were alone; "why have you come here? I did not send for you, I no longer require your services. Tell me--what do you want? Speak!"

"Deign to excuse me for coming, monseigneur; you will understand that it is only because I was requested, even implored, to do so."

"By whom?"

"Does not monsieur le comte divine? By Madame la Marquise de Santoval."

"That woman again! What! after causing me to fight with her husband! after turning me to ridicule so abominably! she dares again---- Well! what does she want with me?"

"This letter will tell you, monseigneur, I do not doubt."

"A letter from her! Ah! this is too much!--Let us see; I am curious to know what she can have to write to me."

Léodgard took the letter, and Bahuchet discreetly withdrew to the other end of the room.

Having hastily broken the seal, Léodgard read these words, written by Valentine:

"You have showered the most terrible epithets upon me, doubtless; I
deserve them; I made a mock of you, it is true; but do you, in your
turn, recall your conduct: I was to have been your wife, you
preferred a bath keeper's daughter to me! I determined to be
revenged, because I loved you in secret, because that love made
even deeper the wound you had inflicted on me. I married the
Marquis de Santoval, whom I did not love; but I knew his
temperament, and I desired an avenger. Since that duel, in which he
narrowly missed killing you, I have been unable to endure the
marquis's presence; I can live with that man no longer--he is
hateful to me.--Léodgard, you know every part of my conduct; if you
had died of your wound, I should have killed myself in order not to
survive you; for I love you still. Tell me that you forgive me,
tell me that you will take me away from the Marquis de Santoval. I
wish to see you, to speak with you. In pity's name, write me a few
words in reply, and appoint a rendezvous for to-morrow, though it
be but for a few minutes; do not refuse me!

"VALENTINE."

The perusal of this letter threw Léodgard's mind into confusion; dark clouds gathered on his brow, where something like tranquillity had reigned of late. He rose and paced the floor, in the most intense agitation; it was evident that a battle was raging in the depths of his heart. He read Valentine's letter once more, then seemed to be lost in thought.

"I was led to hope," murmured Bahuchet at last, in a wheedling tone, "that monsieur le comte would give me a word in reply. The lady even went so far as to make me promise not to return without one.--Poor lady! she was so pale, so agitated, so interesting!"

"So you saw her, did you?"

"Yes, monsieur le comte. Her maid, Miretta, had been searching Paris for me for a long time; after asking for me in vain at that miserly solicitor's, who turned me out of doors, with Plumard, for a mere nothing! a trifle!"

"Where did you see the marchioness?"

"On Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, in a little nook I selected. Oh! the lady didn't keep me waiting.--Will monsieur le comte refuse to give me a few words, in his hand? Poor lady! she will do some insane thing, if I do not take her an answer."

"Yes, I am going to write to her.--Ah! so this lady loves me!--Pardieu! I must make sure of that. But woe to her if she deceives me again!"

"I venture to assure monsieur le comte----"

"Hold your peace and let me write."

Léodgard seated himself at his desk and hastily wrote these lines:

"You wish to see me, madame la marquise; you love me, so you say!
Although I have difficulty in placing faith in a love which nearly
cost me my life, I am too gallant and too brave to decline this new
rendezvous, even if I were destined again to find a sword awaiting
me instead of a smile.--Until to-morrow, then, at eight in the
evening, in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs."

Léodgard signed this letter and handed it to Bahuchet, who, overjoyed to have obtained a written reply, took a hasty leave, fearing that the count might be tempted to recall the letter he had given him.

When Léodgard was alone, he fell once more into a moody reverie; absorbed by his memories and his new projects, he seemed to have forgotten the present, to have forgotten where he was. In fact, he did not hear Blanche, who returned to the room and stood in front of him for several minutes, amazed that he said nothing to her.

"Papa--I am here--don't you see me?" she murmured at last.

At the sound of Blanche's voice, Léodgard started, almost as if in terror; he gazed at his daughter, but did not smile at her as usual; it seemed that the sight of the child embarrassed him. And little Blanche, accustomed as she was to be kissed and caressed by her father, looked at him with a surprised expression, and said, after a pause:

"Why don't you kiss me to-night, papa? Have I been naughty?"

"No, no; you are not naughty, Blanche; but I was thinking; my mind was on other things."

"Papa, mamma told me to ask you if you would like to have her come here after me to-night; she would like to ever so much; do you want her to?"

"No, no; that cannot be, to-night; another time you may come with your mother; but to-night I must be alone."

And the count rang for a servant and said to him:

"Take my daughter to her mother."

"You send me away so soon, papa!" said Blanche, with a little pout that made her even more bewitching; "why, I haven't had time enough to kiss you; I don't want to go yet!"

"You must obey me, Blanche; I wish it!"

Léodgard said these words in a stern tone, which brought tears to the little angel's eyes, for she was not accustomed to be spoken to so. She took the servant's hand and was about to leave the room, glancing mournfully at her father. But that glance went to Léodgard's heart; he ran to his daughter, took her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, murmuring:

"I will come back, dear child; yes, you shall see me again."

When the servant had taken Blanche away, the count dressed to go out, buckled on his sword, took his cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and left his apartment, saying to himself:

"Now, I must leave this place and return to my little house in Rue de Bretonvilliers. I should not be free here; and the sight of that child would weaken my resolution.--Dear little darling! with her I had found peace once more; my remorse was almost banished.--Ah! I do wrong to leave her, perhaps; but that letter from Valentine has overwhelmed all my senses; the memory of her beauty--this love that she swears that she has for me--well! the die is cast; I must see that woman again!"

And the count, avoiding the apartments occupied by Bathilde, left the Hôtel de Marvejols with a heavy heart, like a person who submits to fatality.