Balsamo, the Magician; or, The Memoirs of a Physician. Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ a groan.

      "Goodness, what is the matter?" cried Nicole, who had opened the curtains.

      "I do not know. I feel lame all over; my chest seems broken in."

      "It is the outbreak of the cold you caught last night," said the maid.

      "Last night?" repeated the surprised lady; but she remarked the disorder of her room, and added: "Stay, I remember that I felt very tired—exhausted—it must have been the storm. I fell to sleep over my music. I recall nothing further. I went up hither half asleep, and must have thrown myself on the bed without undressing properly."

      "You must have stayed very late at the music, then," observed Nicole, "for, before you retired to your bedroom I came down, having heard steps about——"

      "But I did not stir from the parlor."

      "Oh, of course, you know better than me," said Nicole.

      "You must mistake," replied the other with the utmost sweetness: "I never left the seat; but I remember that I was cold, for I walked quite swiftly."

      "When I saw you in the garden, however, you walked very freely."

      "I, in the grounds?—you know I never go out after dark."

      "I should think I knew my mistress by sight," said the maid, doubling her scrutiny; "I thought that you were taking a stroll with somebody."

      "With whom would I be taking a stroll?" demanded Andrea, without seeing that her servant was putting her to an examination.

      Nicole did not think it prudent to proceed, for the coolness of the hypocrite, as she considered her, frightened her. So she changed the subject.

      "I hope you are not going to be sick, either with fatigue or sorrow. Both have the same effect. Ah, well I know how sorrows undermine!"

      "You do? Have you sorrows, Nicole?"

      "Indeed; I was coming to tell my mistress, when I was frightened to see how queer you looked; no doubt, we both are upset."

      "Really!" queried Andrea, offended at the "we both."

      "I am thinking of getting married."

      "Why, you are not yet seventeen——"

      "But you are sixteen and——"

      She was going to say something saucy, but she knew Andrea too well to risk it, and cut short the explanation.

      "Indeed, I cannot know what my mistress thinks, but I am low-born and I act according to my nature. It is natural to have a sweetheart."

      "Oh, you have a lover then! You seem to make good use of your time here."

      "I must look forward. You are a lady and have expectations from rich kinsfolks going off; but I have no family and must get into one."

      As all this seemed straightforward enough, Andrea forgot what had been offensive in tone, and said, with her kindness taking the reins:

      "Is it any one I know? Speak out, as it is the duty of masters to interest themselves in the fate of their servants, and I am pleased with you."

      "That is very kind. It is—Gilbert!"

      To her high amaze, Andrea did not wince.

      "As he loves you, marry him," she replied, easily. "He is an orphan, too, so you are both your own masters. Only, you are both rather young."

      "We shall have the longer life together."

      "You are penniless."

      "We can work."

      "What can he do, who is good for nothing?"

      "He is good to catch game for master's table, anyway; you slander poor Gilbert, who is full of attention for you."

      "He does his duty as a servant——"

      "Nay; he is not a servant; he is never paid."

      "He is son of a farmer of ours; he is kept and does nothing for it; so, he steals his support. But what are you aiming at to defend so warmly a boy whom nobody attacks?"

      "I never thought you would attack him! it is just the other way about!" with a bitter smile.

      "Something more I do not understand."

      "Because you do not want to."

      "Enough! I have no leisure for your riddles. You want my consent to this marriage?"

      "If you please; and I hope you will bear Gilbert no ill will."

      "What is it to me whether he loves you or not? You burden me, miss."

      "I daresay," said Nicole, bursting out in anger at last; "you have said the same thing to Gilbert."

      "I speak to your Gilbert! You are mad, girl; leave me in peace."

      "If you do not speak to him now, I believe the silence will not last long."

      "Lord forgive her—the silly jade is jealous!" exclaimed Andrea, covering her with a disdainful look, and laughing. "Cheer up, little Legay! I never looked at your pretty Gilbert, and I do not so much as know the color of his eyes."

      Andrea was quite ready to overlook what seemed folly and not pertness; but Nicole felt offended, and did not want pardon.

      "I can quite believe that—for one cannot get a good look in the nighttime."

      "Take care to make yourself clear at once," said Andrea, very pale.

      "Last night, I saw——"

      "Andrea!" came a voice from below, in the garden.

      "My lord your father," said Nicole, "with the stranger who passed the night here."

      "Go down, and say that I cannot answer, as I am not well. I have a stiff neck; and return to finish this odd debate."

      Nicole obeyed, as Andrea was always obeyed when commanding, without reply or wavering. Her mistress felt something unusual; though resolved not to show herself, she was constrained to go to the window left open by Legay, through a superior and resistless power.

CHAPTER VIII.

       THE HARBINGER.

       Table of Contents

      The traveler had risen early to look to his coach and learn how Althotas was faring.

      All were still sleeping but Gilbert, who peeped through a window of his room over the doorway and spied all the stranger's movements.

      The latter was struck by СКАЧАТЬ