"Ah! stay; I have forgotten a message my wife gave me," said Monsieur de Camps, turning back to Madame de l'Estorade."She told me to say she would come for you at two o'clock to go and see the spring things at the 'Jean de Paris,' and she has arranged that after that we shall all four go to the flower-show.When we leave Rastignac, l'Estorade and I will come back here, and wait for you if you have not returned before us."Madame de l'Estorade paid little attention to this programme, for a flash of light had illumined her mind.As soon as she was alone, she took Marie-Gaston's letter from her gown, and, finding it folded in the proper manner, she exclaimed,--"Not a doubt of it! I remember perfectly that I folded it with the writing outside, as I put it back into the envelope; he must have read it!"An hour later, Madame de l'Estorade and Madame de Camps met in the same salon where they had talked of Sallenauve a few days earlier.
"Good heavens! what is the matter with you?" cried Madame de Camps, seeing tears on the face of her friend, who was finishing a letter she had written.
Madame de l'Estorade told her all that had happened, and showed her Marie-Gaston's letter.
"Are you very sure," asked Madame de Camps, "that your husband has read the luckless scrawl?""How can I doubt it?" returned Madame de l'Estorade."The paper can't have turned of itself; besides, in recalling the circumstances, I have a dim recollection that at the moment when I started to run to Rene Ifelt something drop,--fate willed that I should not stop to pick it up.""Often, when people strain their memories in that way they fasten on some false indication.""But, my dear friend, the extraordinary change in the face and behavior of Monsieur de l'Estorade, coming so suddenly as it did, must have been the result of some sudden shock.He looked like a man struck by lightning.""But if you account for the change in his appearance in that way, why look for symptoms of something wrong with his liver?""Ah! this is not the first time I have seen symptoms of that," replied Madame de l'Estorade."But you know when sick people don't complain, we forget about their illness.See," and she pointed to a volume lying open beside her; "just before you came in, I found in this medical dictionary that persons who suffer from diseases of the liver are apt to be morose, irritable, impatient.Well, for some time past, I have noticed a great change in my husband's disposition.You yourself mentioned it to me the other day.Besides, the scene Monsieur de Camps has just witnessed--which is, I may truly say, unprecedented in our household--is enough to prove it.""My dear love, you are like those unpleasant persons who are resolved to torture themselves.In the first place, you have looked into medical books, which is the very height of imprudence.I defy you to read a description of any sort of disease without fancying that either you or some friends of yours have the symptoms of it.In the next place, you are mixing up things; the effects of fear and of a chronic malady are totally different.""No, I am not mixing them up; I know what I am talking about.You don't need to be told that if in our poor human machine some one part gets out of order, it is on that that any strong emotion will strike.""Well," said Madame de Camps, not pursuing the medical discussion, "if the letter of that unhappy madman has really fallen into the hands of your husband, the peace of your home is seriously endangered; that is the point to be discussed.""There are not two ways to be followed as to that," said Madame de l'Estorade."Monsieur de Sallenauve must never set foot in this house again.""That is precisely what I came to speak about to-day.Do you know that last night I did not think you showed the composure which is so marked a trait in your character?""When?" asked Madame de l'Estorade.
"Why, when you expressed so effusively your gratitude to Monsieur de Sallenauve.When I advised you not to avoid him, for fear it would induce him to keep at your heels, I never intended that you should shower your regard upon his head in a way to turn it.The wife of so zealous a dynastic partisan as Monsieur de l'Estorade ought to know what the juste milieu is by this time.""Ah! my dear, I entreat you, don't make fun of my poor husband.""I am not talking of your husband, I am talking of you.Last night you so surprised me that I have come here to take back my words.I like people to follow my advice, but I don't like them to go beyond it.""At any other time I should make you explain what horrible impropriety I have committed under your counsel; but fate has interposed and settled everything.Monsieur de Sallenauve will, at any cost, disappear from our path, and therefore why discuss the degree of kindness one might have shown him?""But," said Madame de Camps, "since I must tell you all, I have come to think him a dangerous acquaintance,--less for you than for some one else.""Who?" asked Madame de l'Estorade.
"Nais.That child, with her passion for her 'preserver,' makes me really uneasy.""Oh!" said the countess, smiling rather sadly, "are you not giving too much importance to childish nonsense?""Nais is, of course, a child, but a child who will ripen quickly into a woman.Did you not tell me yourself that you were sometimes frightened at the intuition she showed in matters beyond her years?""That is true.But what you call her passion for Monsieur de Sallenauve, besides being perfectly natural, is expressed by the dear little thing with such ******* and publicity that the sentiment is, it seems to me, obviously childlike.""Well, don't trust to that; especially not after this troublesome being ceases to come to your house.Suppose that when the time comes to marry your daughter, this fancy should have smouldered in her heart and increased; imagine your difficulty!""Oh! between now and then, thank Heaven! there's time enough," replied Madame de l'Estorade, in a tone of incredulity.