As we went through the court I felt as though I had been tied to a string, suspended in the air, and spun.This was undoubtedly due to the heat.And after the astonishing conversation from which we had come, my admiration for the lady beside me was magnified to a veritable awe.
We reached the archway.Madame la Vicomtesse held me lightly by the edge of my coat, and I stood looking down at her.
``Wait a minute, Mr.Ritchie,'' she said, glancing at the few figures hurrying across the Place d'Armes; ``those are only Americans, and they are too busy to see us standing here.What do you propose to do now?''
``We must get word to Nick as we promised, that he may know what to expect,'' I replied.``Suppose we go to Monsieur de St.Gre's house and write him a letter?''
``No,'' said the Vicomtesse, with decision, ``I am going to Mrs.Temple's.I shall write the letter from there and send it by Andre, and you will go direct to Madame Gravois's.''
Her glance rested anxiously upon my face, and there came an expression in her eyes which disturbed me strangely.I had not known it since the days when Polly Ann used to mother me.But I did not mean to give up.
``I am not tired, Madame la Vicomtesse,'' I answered, ``and I will go with you to Mrs.Temple's.''
``Give me your hand,'' she said, and smiled.``Andre and my maid are used to my vagaries, and your own countrymen will not mind.Give me your hand, Mr.Ritchie.''
I gave it willingly enough, with a thrill as she took it between her own.The same anxious look was in her eyes, and not the least embarrassment.
``There, it is hot and dry, as I feared,'' she said, ``and you seem flushed.'' She dropped my hand, and there was a touch of irritation in her voice as she continued: ``You seemed fairly sensible when I first met you last night, Mr.
Ritchie.Are you losing your sanity? Do you not realize that you cannot take liberties with this climate? Do as Isay, and go to Madame Gravois's at once.''
``It is my pleasure to obey you, Madame la Vicomtesse,''
I answered, ``but I mean to go with you as far as Mrs.
Temple's, to see how she fares.She may be--worse.''
``That is no reason why you should kill yourself,'' said Madame, coldly.``Will you not do as I say?''
``I think that I should go to Mrs.Temple's,'' I answered.
She did not reply to that, letting down her veil impatiently, with a deftness that characterized all her movements.Without so much as asking me to come after her, she reached the banquette, and I walked by her side through the streets, silent and troubled by her displeasure.My pride forbade me to do as she wished.It was the hottest part of a burning day, and the dome of the sky was like a brazen bell above us.We passed the calabozo with its iron gates and tiny grilled windows pierced in the massive walls, behind which Gignoux languished, and I could not repress a smile as I thought of him.Even the Spaniards sometimes happened upon justice.In the Rue Bourbon the little shops were empty, the doorstep where my merry fiddler had played vacant, and the very air seemed to simmer above the honeycombed tiles.I knocked at the door, once, twice.There was no answer.I looked at Madame la Vicomtesse, and knocked again so loudly that the little tailor across the street, his shirt opened at the neck, flung out his shutter.Suddenly there was a noise within, the door was opened, and Lindy stood before us, in the darkened room, with terror in her eyes.
``Oh, Marse Dave,'' she cried, as we entered, ``oh, Madame, I'se so glad you'se come, I'se so glad you'se come.''
She burst into a flood of tears.And Madame la Vicomtesse, raising her veil, seized the girl by the arm.
``What is it?'' she said.``What is the matter, Lindy?''
Madame's touch seemed to steady her.
``Miss Sally,'' she moaned, ``Miss Sally done got de yaller fever.''
There was a moment's silence, for we were both too appalled by the news to speak.
``Lindy, are you sure?'' said the Vicomtesse.
``Yass'm, yass'm,'' Lindy sobbed, ``I reckon I'se done seed 'nuf of it, Mistis.'' And she went into a hysterical fit of weeping.
The Vicomtesse turned to her own frightened servants in the doorway, bade Andre in French to run for Dr.Perrin, and herself closed the battened doors.There was a moment when her face as I saw it was graven on my memory, reflecting a knowledge of the evils of this world, a spirit above and untouched by them, a power to accept what life may bring with no outward sign of pleasure or dismay.Doubtless thus she had made King and Cardinal laugh, doubtless thus, ministering to those who crossed her path, she had met her own calamities.Strangest of all was the effect she had upon Lindy, for the girl ceased crying as she watched her.
Madame la Vicomtesse turned to me.
``You must go at once,'' she said.``When you get to Madame Gravois's, write to Mr.Temple.I will send Andre to you there.''
She started for the bedroom door, Lindy making way for her.I scarcely knew what I did as I sprang forward and took the Vicomtesse by the arm.
``Where are you going?'' I cried.``You cannot go in there! You cannot go in there!''
It did not seem strange that she turned to me without anger, that she did not seek to release her arm.It did not seem strange that her look had in it a gentleness as she spoke.
``I must,'' she said.
``I cannot let you risk your life,'' I cried, wholly forgetting myself; ``there are others who will do this.''
``Others?'' she said.
``I will go.I--I have nursed people before this.And there is Lindy.''
A smile quivered on her lips,--or was it a smile?
``You will do as I say and go to Madame Gravois's--at once,'' she murmured, striving for the first time to free herself.
``If you stay, I stay,'' I answered; ``and if you die, I die.''
She looked up into my eyes for a fleeting instant.
``Write to Mr.Temple,'' she said.
Dazed, I watched her open the bedroom doors, motion to Lindy to pass through, and then she had closed them again and I was alone in the darkened parlor.
