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whose face was burning, and whose eyes were starting from his head; for in his delirium he thought he saw a black spaniel on his bed.
Madame de la Verdelière, who was assiduous in every modish and patriotic practice, was reckoned, in the best French society, as one of the most gracious of the great ladies interested in good works. She came herself to ask for news of Maurice, and offered to nurse the wounded man. But at the vehement instigation of Madame des Aubels, Arcade shut the door in her face. Expressions of sympathy were showered upon Maurice. Piled on the salver, visiting cards displayed their innumerable little dogs’ ears. Monsieur Le Truc de Ruffec was one of the first to show his manly sympathy at the flat in the Rue de Rome, and, holding out ins loyal hand, asked young d’Esparvieu as one honourable man to another for twenty-five louis to pay a debt of honour.
“Of course, my dear Maurice, that is the sort of thing one could not ask of everybody.”
The same day Monsieur Gaétan came to press his nephew’s hand. The latter introduced Arcade.
“This is my guardian angel, whose foot you thought so beautiful when you saw the print it had made on the tell-tale powder, uncle. He appeared to me last year in this very room. You don’t believe it? Well, it is true, nevertheless.”
