Farewell | Page 6

and watch them glitter like gems. She knelt down by
the brink, and played there like a child, dabbling her long tresses in the
water, and flinging them loose again to see the water drip from the ends,
like a string of pearls in the sunless light.
"She is mad!" cried the Councillor.
A hoarse cry rang through the air; it came from Genevieve, and seemed
to be meant for the mysterious woman. She rose to her feet in a
moment, flinging back the hair from her face, and then the Colonel and
d'Albon could see her features distinctly. As soon as she saw the two
friends she bounded to the railings with the swiftness of a fawn.
"/Farewell/!" she said in low, musical tones, but they could not discover
the least trace of feeling, the least idea in the sweet sounds that they had
awaited impatiently.
M. d'Albon admired the long lashes, the thick, dark eyebrows, the
dazzling fairness of skin untinged by any trace of red. Only the delicate
blue veins contrasted with that uniform whiteness.
But when the Marquis turned to communicate his surprise at the sight

of so strange an apparition, he saw the Colonel stretched on the grass
like one dead. M. d'Albon fired his gun into the air, shouted for help,
and tried to raise his friend. At the sound of the shot, the strange lady,
who had stood motionless by the gate, fled away, crying out like a
wounded wild creature, circling round and round in the meadow, with
every sign of unspeakable terror.
M. d'Albon heard a carriage rolling along the road to l'Isle-Adam, and
waved his handkerchief to implore help. The carriage immediately
came towards the Minorite convent, and M. d'Albon recognized
neighbors, M. and Mme. de Grandville, who hastened to alight and put
their carriage at his disposal. Colonel de Sucy inhaled the salts which
Mme. de Grandville happened to have with her; he opened his eyes,
looked towards the mysterious figure that still fled wailing through the
meadow, and a faint cry of horror broke from him; he closed his eyes
again, with a dumb gesture of entreaty to his friends to take him away
from this scene. M. and Mme. de Grandville begged the Councillor to
make use of their carriage, adding very obligingly that they themselves
would walk.
"Who can the lady be?" inquired the magistrate, looking towards the
strange figure.
"People think that she comes from Moulins," answered M. de
Grandville. "She is a Comtesse de Vandieres; she is said to be mad; but
as she has only been here for two months, I cannot vouch for the truth
of all this hearsay talk."
M. d'Albon thanked M. and Mme. de Grandville, and they set out for
Cassan.
"It is she!" cried Philip, coming to himself.
"She? who?" asked d'Albon.
"Stephanie. . . . Ah! dead and yet living still; still alive, but her mind is
gone! I thought the sight would kill me."
The prudent magistrate, recognizing the gravity of the crisis through
which his friend was passing, refrained from asking questions or
exciting him further, and grew impatient of the length of the way to the
chateau, for the change wrought in the Colonel's face alarmed him. He
feared lest the Countess' terrible disease had communicated itself to
Philip's brain. When they reached the avenue at l'Isle-Adam, d'Albon
sent the servant for the local doctor, so that the Colonel had scarcely

been laid in bed before the surgeon was beside him.
"If Monsieur le Colonel had not been fasting, the shock must have
killed him," pronounced the leech. "He was over-tired, and that saved
him," and with a few directions as to the patient's treatment, he went to
prepare a composing draught himself. M. de Sucy was better the next
morning, but the doctor had insisted on sitting up all night with him.
"I confess, Monsieur le Marquis," the surgeon said, "that I feared for
the brain. M. de Sucy has had some very violent shock; he is a man of
strong passions, but, with his temperament, the first shock decides
everything. He will very likely be out of danger to-morrow."
The doctor was perfectly right. The next day the patient was allowed to
see his friend.
"I want you to do something for me, dear d'Albon," Philip said,
grasping his friend's hand. "Hasten at once to the Minorite convent,
find out everything about the lady whom we saw there, and come back
as soon as you can; I shall count the minutes till I see you again."
M. d'Albon called for his horse, and galloped over to the old monastery.
When he reached the gateway he found some one standing there, a tall,
spare man with a kindly face, who answered in the affirmative when