Her reasoning was sensible.  They could only agree upon that, and they decided to obey her.

She had risen, full of the thought of their departure, impatient to know that they were off and that she was left alone.  Now, in order that she should commit no error during their absence, she listened, trying to understand perfectly, to remember everything, to forget nothing of the physician’s directions.  The painter’s valet, standing near her, listened also, and behind him his wife, the cook, who had helped in the first binding of the patient, indicated by nods of the head that she too understood.  When the Countess had recited all the instructions like a lesson, she urged the two men to go, repeating to her husband: 

“Return soon, above all things, return soon!”

“I will take you in my coupe,” said the doctor to the Count.  “It will bring you back quicker.  You will be here again in an hour.”

Before leaving, the doctor again carefully examined the wounded man, to assure himself that his condition remained satisfactory.

Guilleroy still hesitated.

“You do not think that we are doing anything imprudent?” he asked.

“No,” said the doctor.  “He needs only rest and quiet.  Madame de Guilleroy will see that he does not talk, and will speak to him as little as possible.”

The Countess was startled, and said: 

“Then I must not talk to him?”

“Oh, no, Madame!  Take an armchair and sit beside him.  He will not feel that he is alone and will be quite content; but no fatigue of words, or even of thoughts.  I will call about nine o’clock to-morrow morning.  Good-bye, Madame.  I salute you!”

He left the room with a low bow, followed by the Count who repeated: 

“Do not worry yourself, my dear.  Within an hour I shall return, and then you can go home.”

When they were gone, she listened for the sound of the door below being closed, then to the rolling wheels of the coupe in the street.

The valet and the cook still stood there, awaiting orders.  The Countess dismissed them.

“You may go now,” said she; “I will ring if I need anything.”

They too withdrew, and she remained alone with him.

She had drawn quite near to the bed, and putting her hands on the two edges of the pillow, on both sides of that dear face, she leaned over to look upon it.  Then, with her face so close to his that she seemed to breathe her words upon it, she whispered: 

“Did you throw yourself under that carriage?”

He tried to smile still, saying:  “No, it was that which threw itself upon me.”

“That is not true; it was you.”

“No, I swear to you it was it!”

After a few moments of silence, those instants when souls seem mingled in glances, she murmured:  “Oh, my dear, dear Olivier, to think that I let you go, that I did not keep you with me!”