LVII

THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO THE COMTE DE L’ESTORADE
THE CHALET, August 7th.

My love,—­Take the children away to Provence without me; I remain with Louise, who has only a few days yet to live.  I cannot leave either her or her husband, for whose reason I fear.

You know the scrap of letter which sent me flying to Ville d’Avray, picking up the doctors on my way.  Since then I have not left my darling friend, and it has been impossible to write to you, for I have sat up every night for a fortnight.

When I arrived, I found her with Gaston, in full dress, beautiful, laughing, happy.  It was a heroic falsehood!  They were like two lovely children together in their restored confidence.  For a moment I was deceived, like Gaston, by the effontery; but Louise pressed my hand, whispering: 

“He must not know; I am dying.”

An icy chill fell over me as I felt her burning hand and saw the red spots on her cheeks.  I congratulated myself on my prudence in leaving the doctors in the wood till they should be sent for.

“Leave us for a little,” she said to Gaston.  “Two women who have not met for five years have plenty of secrets to talk over, and Renee, I have no doubt, has things to confide in me.”

Directly we were alone, she flung herself into my arms, unable longer to restrain her tears.

“Tell me about it,” I said.  “I have brought with me, in case of need, the best surgeon and the best physician from the hospital, and Bianchon as well; there are four altogether.”

“Ah!” she cried, “have them in at once if they can save me, if there is still time.  The passion which hurried me to death now cries for life!”

“But what have you done to yourself?”

“I have in a few days brought myself to the last stage of consumption.”

“But how?”

“I got myself into a profuse perspiration in the night, and then ran out and lay down by the side of the lake in the dew.  Gaston thinks I have a cold, and I am dying!”

“Send him to Paris; I will fetch the doctors myself,” I said, as I rushed out wildly to the spot where I had left them.

Alas! my love, after the consultation was over, not one of the doctors gave me the least hope; they all believe that Louise will die with the fall of the leaves.  The dear child’s constitution has wonderfully helped the success of her plan.  It seems she has a predisposition to this complaint; and though, in the ordinary course, she might have lived a long time, a few days’ folly has made the case desperate.

I cannot tell you what I felt on hearing this sentence, based on such clear explanations.  You know that I have lived in Louise as much as in my own life.  I was simply crushed, and could not stir to escort to the door these harbingers of evil.  I don’t know how long I remained lost in bitter thoughts, the tears running down my cheeks, when I was roused from my stupor by the words: