AT THE VIOLENT RINGING of M. de Sartines' bell, an usher entered.
“Well!” asked the magistrate; “this woman?”
“The woman who fainted here just now, and whom I confided to your care.”
“My lord, she is quite well,” replied the usher.
“Where shall I find her, my lord?”
“What do you mean? In that room, of course.”
“But she is not there, my lord.”
“Not there! Then where is she?”
“My lord, it is true that for some moments she remained in a swoon; but five minutes after the Count de Fenix entered my lord's study, she awoke from this strange fit, which neither essences nor salts affected in the least. Then she opened her eyes, rose, and breathed, seemingly with an air of satisfaction.”
“She proceeded toward the door; and, as my lord had not ordered that she should be detained, she was allowed to depart.”
“Gone!” cried M. de Sartines. “Ah! wretch that you are! I shall send you all to rot at Bicetre! Quick! quick! send me my head clerk!”
The usher retired hastily to obey the order he had received.
“The wretch is a sorcerer!” muttered the unfortunate magistrate. “I am lieutenant of police to the king, but he is lieutenant of police to the devil!”
The reader has, no doubt, understood what M. de Sartines could not explain to himself. Immediately after the incident of the pistol, and while the lieutenant of police was endeavoring to regain his equanimity, Balsamo, profiting by the momentary respite, had turned successively to the four cardinal points, quite sure of finding Lorenza in one of them, and had ordered her to rise, to go out, and to return by the way she had come, to the Rue Saint Claude.
The moment this wish had been formed in Balsamo's mind, a magnetic current was established between him and the young woman, and the latter, obeying the order she had received by intuition, rose and retired, without any one opposing her departure.
M. de Sartines that same evening took to his bed and caused himself to be bled. The revulsion had been too strong for him to bear with impunity; and the doctor assured him that a quarter of an hour more would have brought on an attack of apoplexy.
Meanwhile, Balsamo had accompanied the countess to her carriage, and had attempted to take his leave of her; but she was not a woman to let him go thus, without knowing, or at least without endeavoring to discover, the solution of the strange event which had taken place before her. She begged the count to enter her carriage. The count obeyed, and a groom led Djerid behind.
“You see now, count,” said she, “whether I am true or not, and whether, when I have called a man my friend, I spoke with the lips merely, or my heart. I was just setting out for Luciennes, where the king had said he would pay me a visit to-morrow morning; but your letter arrived, and I left everything for you. Many would have been frightened at the words conspiracies and conspirators which M. de Sartines threw in your teeth; but I looked at your countenance before I acted, and did as you wished me.”
“Madame,” replied Balsamo, “you have amply repaid the slight service I was able to render you; but with me nothing is lost—you will find that I can be grateful. Do not imagine, however, that I am a criminal—a conspirator, as M. de Sartines said. That worthy magistrate had received, from some person who betrayed me, this coffer, containing some chemical and hermetical secrets—which I shall share with you, that you may preserve your immortal, your splendid beauty, and your dazzling youth. Now, seeing the ciphers of my receipt, this excellent M. de Sartines called the chancery clerk to assist him, who, in order not to be found wanting, interpreted them after his own fashion. I think I have already told you, madame, that the profession is not yet entirely freed from the dangers which were attendant on it in the middle ages. Only young and intelligent minds like yours favor it. In short, madame, you have saved me from a great embarrassment; I thank you for it, and shall prove my gratitude.”
“But what would he have done with you if I had not come to your assistance?”
“To annoy King Frederick, whom his majesty hates, he would have imprisoned me in Vincennes or the Bastille. I should have escaped from it, I know—thanks to my receipt for melting stone with a breath —but I should have lost my coffer, which contains, as I have had the honor of telling you, many curious and invaluable secrets, wrested by a lucky chance from eternal darkness.”
“Ah, count! you at once delight and reassure me. Then you promise me a philter to make me young again?”
“And when will you give it me?”
“Oh! you need be in no hurry. You may ask for it twenty years hence, beautiful countess. In the meantime, I think you do not wish to become quite a child again.”
“You are, in truth, a charming man. One question more and I will let you go, for you seem in haste.”
“You said that some one had betrayed you. Is it a man or a woman?”
“Ah! ah I count! love affairs.”
“Alas! yes; prompted by an almost frantic jealousy, which has produced the pleasant effect you have seen. It is a woman who, not daring to stab me with a knife, because she knows I cannot be killed, wanted to imprison and ruin me.”
“She endeavored to do so, at least.”
“Count, I will stop here,” said the countess, laughing. “Is it the liquid silver which courses through your veins that gives you that immortality which makes people betray you instead of killing you? Shall I set you down here, or drive you to your own house? Come, choose!”
“No, madame, I cannot allow you to inconvenience yourself on my account. I have my horse, Djerid.”
“Ah! that wonderful animal which, it is said, outstrips the wind?”
“He seems to please you, madame.”
“He is, in truth, a magnificent steed.”
“Allow me to offer him to you, on the condition that you alone ride him.”
“Oh! no, thank you; I do not ride on horseback; or, at least, I am a very timid horsewoman. I am as much obliged to you, however, as if I accepted your offer. Adieu! My dear count; do not forget my philter. In ten years.”
“Count, you know the proverb; 'a bird in the hand—' and if you could even give it me in five years, there is no knowing what may happen.”
“Whenever you please, countess; are you not aware that I am entirely at your command?”
“It proves that I have great confidence in you to speak of it.”
Balsamo, who had already alighted from the carriage, suppressed his impatience, and approached the countess.
“It is reported everywhere,” continued Madame Dubarry, “that the king is rather taken with this little Taverney.”
“Ah! madame,” said Balsamo, “is it possible?”
“A very great partiality, it is said. You must tell me if it is true. Count, do not deceive me; I beseech you to treat me as a friend. Tell me the truth, count.”
“Madame,” replied Balsamo, “I will do more; I will promise you that Mademoiselle Andree shall never be anything to the king.”
“And why not?” cried Madame Dubarry.
“Because I will it so,” said Balsamo.
“Oh!” said Madame Dubarry, incredulously.
“Never doubt the truths of science, madame. You have believed me when I said yes; believe me when I say no.”
“But, in short, have you the means—?”
“Means capable of annihilating the king's will, or conquering his whims?”
“I create sympathies,” said he.
“Well, I can create aversions also, and if needful, impossibilities. Therefore, countess, make your mind easy—I am on the watch.”
Balsamo uttered all these fragments of sentences with an absence of mind which Madame Dubarry would not have taken as she did for inspiration, had she known the feverish anxiety which Balsamo felt to be with Lorenza as quickly as possible.
“Well, count,” said she, “assuredly you are not only my prophet of happiness, but also my guardian angel. Count, mark my words; defend me and I will defend you. Alliance! union!”
“Agreed, madame,” replied Balsamo, kissing the countess's hand.
Then closing the door of the carriage, which the countess had stopped upon the Champs-Elysees, he mounted his horse, who neighed joyously, and was soon lost to view in the shadows of night.
“To Luciennes!” said the countess, consoled.
This time Balsamo whistled softly, and gently pressed his knees against Djerid's side, who started off at a gallop.
Five minutes afterward he was in the vestibule of the Rue Saint Claude, looking at Fritz.
“Yes, master,” replied the domestic, who was accustomed to read his looks.
“Oh! very much exhausted. She ran so quickly that although I saw her coming, for I was watching for her, I had scarcely time to hasten to meet her.”
“Oh! I was quite alarmed. She swept on like a tempest; rushed upstairs without taking breath; and when she entered the room, she fell upon the large black lion's skin. You will find her there.”
Balsamo hastily ascended, and found Lorenza where Fritz had said. She was struggling in vain against the first convulsions of a nervous crisis. The fluid had weighed upon her too long already, and forced her to violent efforts. She was in pain, and groaned deeply; it seemed as if a mountain weighed upon her breast, and that she endeavored with both hands to remove it.
Balsamo looked at her with an eye sparkling with anger, and taking her in his arms, he carried her into her apartment, the mysterious door of which closed behind him.
