Милий друг
Madame De Marelle
HewasnotatalluneasyastoClotilde’sanger,knowingthatshewouldsoonforgivehim.
WhenheaskedthejanitorofthehouseinwhichCountdeVaudreclived:"HowisM.deVaudrec?Ihaveheardthathehasbeenailingoflate,"themanreplied;"TheCountisveryill,sir;theythinkhewillnotlivethroughthenight;thegouthasreachedhisheart."
DuRoywassostartledhedidnotknowwhattodo!Vaudrecdying!Hestammered:"Thanks—Iwillcallagain"—unconsciousofwhathewassaying.Hejumpedintoacabanddrovehome.Hiswifehadreturned.Heenteredherroomoutofbreath:"Didyouknow?Vaudrecisdying!"
Shewasreadingaletterandturningtohimasked:"Whatdidyousay?"
"IsaidthatVaudrecisdyingofanattackofgout."
Thenheadded:"Whatshallyoudo?"
Sherose;herfacewaslivid;sheburstintotearsandburiedherfaceinherhands.Sheremainedstanding,shakenbysobs,tornbyanguish.Suddenlysheconqueredhergriefandwipinghereyes,said:"Iamgoingtohim—donotworryaboutme—IdonotknowwhattimeIshallreturn—donotexpectme."
Hereplied:"Verywell.Go."
Theyshookhandsandsheleftinsuchhastethatsheforgothergloves.Georges,afterdiningalone,begantowritehisarticle.Hewroteitaccordingtotheminister’sinstructions,hintingtothereadersthattheexpeditiontoMoroccowouldnottakeplace.
