“Then she is not here.”

“No, sir; she is at Aix.”

“Since when?”

“For the last six months.”

“Where does she live?”

“In her town house.  She will be coming here in three weeks to spend the summer as usual.”

“Will you let me write a letter?”

“If you will get down you will find all the necessary materials in madam’s room.”

I went into the house, and to my extreme surprise found myself face to face with my nurse.

“You live here, then.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Since when?”

“For the last ten years.”

“How did you come to nurse me?”

“If you will step upstairs I will tell you.”

Her story was as follows: 

“Madam sent for me in haste, and told me to go and attend to you as if it were herself.  She told me to say that the doctor had sent me if you asked any questions.”

“The doctor said he didn’t know you.”

“Perhaps he was speaking the truth, but most likely he had received orders from madam.  That’s all I know, but I wonder you haven’t seen her at Aix.”

“She cannot see any company, for I have been everywhere.”

“She does not see any company at her own house, but she goes everywhere.”

“It’s very strange.  I must have seen her, and yet I do not think I could have passed her by unrecognized.  You have been with her ten years?”

“Yes, sir, as I had the honour of informing you.”

“Has she changed?  Has she had any sickness?  Has she aged?”

“Not at all.  She has become rather stout, but I assure you you would take her for a woman of thirty.”

“I must be blind, or I cannot have seen her.  I am going to write to her now.”

The woman went out, leaving me in astonishment, at the extraordinary situation in which I was placed.

“Ought I to return to Aix immediately?” I asked myself.  She has a town house, but does not see company, but she might surely see me:  She loves me still.  She cared for me all through my illness, and she would not have done so if she had become indifferent to me.  She will be hurt at my not recognizing her.  She must know that I have left Aix, and will no doubt guess that I am here now.  Shall I go to her or shall I write?  I resolved to write, and I told her in my letter that I should await her reply at Marseilles.  I gave the letter to my late nurse, with some money to insure its being dispatched at once, and drove on to Marseilles where I alighted at an obscure inn, not wishing to be recognized.  I had scarcely got out of my carriage when I saw Madame Schizza, Nina’s sister.  She had left Barcelona with her husband.  They had been at Marseilles three or four days and were going to Leghorn.

Madame Schizza was alone at the moment, her husband having gone out; and as I was full of curiosity I begged her to come up to my room while my dinner was getting ready.