Fairy Fingers Part 37

In an altered tone, a tone of marked consideration, he asked, "You are well acquainted with the Marchioness de Fleury?"

"_Very well!_" replied Madeleine, with an incomprehensible emphasis, while a smile that had a faint touch of satire flitted over her face.

"She receives you?" questioned the count.

"Always," answered Madeleine, smiling again.

"She esteems you?" persisted the count.

"I have every reason to believe that she does."

"And you have influence with her," joined in Bertha, suspecting the count's drift, and feeling desirous of aiding him.

"I think I may venture to say I have."

"Oh, how fortunate!" cried Bertha; "you maybe of the greatest service to our cousin, Count Tristan." She took the letter out of his hand, and placing it in Madeleine's, added, "Beg Madame de Fleury to read this letter, and obtain her promise that she will use her influence with the Marquis de Fleury to cause Mr. Gobert,--Gobert, that's his name, is it not?" appealing to the count,--"to cause Mr. Gobert to vote as herein instructed. See, how well I have explained that matter! I really believe I have an undeveloped talent for business."

"The letter should reach Madame de Fleury this morning. The appeal should be made to the marquis _to-day_,--_this very day!_" urged the count.

"It shall be!" replied Madeleine, with quiet confidence.

The countess here interposed.

"What, my son, you are willing to solicit the interference of Mademoiselle de Gramont, without knowing how and where she has pa.s.sed her time, how she has lived since she fled from the Chateau de Gramont?

I refuse my consent to such a proceeding."

"Aunt,--madame," returned Madeleine, in a gently pleading voice, "do not deprive me of the pleasure of serving you. Humble and unworthy instrument that I am, leave me that happiness."

"If the marchioness would only grant me a few moments' interview this morning," said Count Tristan, who evidently doubted the strength of Madeleine's advocacy.

"I promise that she _will_ grant you an interview this morning," replied Madeleine, interrupting him.

The _femme de chambre_ now reentered and said, "Madame is impatient at this delay; every moment seems an hour."

"Say that I will be with her immediately," answered Madeleine. She then addressed the count: "Have no fears,--you may depend upon me; the countess will receive you the moment her toilet is completed."

Madeleine once more embraced Bertha, once more extended her hand to Maurice, who stood bewildered, dismayed, looking half petrified, and pa.s.sed out of the room.

As soon as she had disappeared, Bertha broke forth joyously, "Well, aunt, what do you think _now_ of our Madeleine? Is not this magic? Is not this a fairy-like _denouement_? She disappears from the Chateau de Gramont as though the earth had opened to swallow her; no trace of her could be discovered for nearly five years, and suddenly she rises up in our very midst, a grand lady, enveloped in a cloud of mystery, and working as many wonders as a veritable witch. She leaves us poor, friendless, dependent; she returns to us rich, powerful, and with influential friends ready to serve those who once protected her. But I think I have found the key to the enigma. Did we not hear strict orders given that none but the Countess Orlowski should be admitted? Well, Madeleine was at once allowed to enter: it follows, beyond doubt, that she is the Countess Orlowski."

This version of Madeleine's position seemed to strike both the countess and her son as not merely possibly, but probably, correct.

"I always thought," returned the count, "that Madeleine was a young person who, in the end"--

His mother finished the sentence, in a tone of pride, "would prove herself worthy of the family to which she belongs."

The loud ringing of the street door-bell attracted the attention of the group a.s.sembled in the drawing-room. A well-known voice exchanged a few words with the servant, and Gaston de Bois entered. His manner was unusually perturbed, and he looked around the room as though in search of some one.

The instant he appeared, Bertha exclaimed, "Oh, M. de Bois! M. de Bois!

We are all so much rejoiced! Madeleine, our own Madeleine, is found at last! She is here,--here in this very house, at this very moment!"

"I--I--I knew it!" answered M. de Bois, with a mixture of embarra.s.sment and exultation.

"You knew it? How could you have known it?" asked Maurice, eagerly.

"I saw her car--ar--arriage at the door."

"_Her_ carriage? She has a carriage of her own, then?" inquired the count.

"Yes, and the most superb horses in Was.h.i.+ngton."

"You knew, then, that she was here?" cried Maurice, with emotion; "you knew it, and you never told us?"

"I knew it, but I was forbidden to tell you. I hoped you would meet; I felt sure you would. I did not know how or when; but, from the moment you put your foot in this city, I looked for this meeting. I was strongly impelled to bring it about, but my promise withheld me."

"Of course, you could not break a promise; that explanation is quite satisfactory," remarked Bertha. "I am sure you would have given us a hint but for your promise."

"I almost gave one in spite of it. I found it harder to keep silent than I used to find it to speak; and that was difficult enough."

"But have the goodness to unravel to us this grand mystery," demanded the count. "Madeleine is married--married to Count Orlowski, the Russian amba.s.sador."

"A n.o.bleman of position!" added the countess.

"How did this come about?" inquired the count.

M. de Bois looked stupefied.

"Who--who--said she was married?" he gasped out. "Why do you imagine that she is mar--ar--arried?"

"She is _not_--_not_ married then? _Say she is not!_" broke in Maurice, hanging upon the reply as though it were a sentence of life or death.

"No--no--not married at all--not in the least married."

Maurice did not answer, but the sound that issued from his lips almost resembled the sob of hysteric pa.s.sion.

"Tell us quickly all about her!" besought Bertha, impatiently.

"Yes, speak! speak!" said the countess, imperiously.

"Speak!" echoed the count.

"Gaston, my dear friend, pray speak,--speak quickly!" Maurice besought.

"I wi--is--ish I could! That's just what I wa--an--ant to do! But it's not so easy, you bewil--il--ilder me so with questions. But the time has come when you must know that she has the hon--on--onor--the honor--the honor to be"--

"Go on, go on!" urged Maurice.

"I wish I could! It's not so easy to expla--plai--plain."