"That is problematical," returned Jacques Bricheteau; "whereas by staying here you are compromising your political future and your reputation in the most positive manner. Such a sacrifice no friendship has the right to demand of you."

"Let us talk of it with the doctor," said Sallenauve, unable to deny the truth of what Bricheteau said.

On being questioned, the doctor replied that he had just seen symptoms in the patient which threatened another paroxysm.

"But," cried Sallenauve, eagerly, "you are not losing hope of a cure, are you, doctor?"

"Far from that. I have perfect faith in the ultimate termination of the case; but I see more delay in reaching it than at first I expected,"

replied the doctor.

"I have recently been elected to our Chamber of deputies," said Sallenauve, "and I ought to be in my seat at the opening of the session; in fact, my interests are seriously concerned, and my friend Monsieur Bricheteau has come over to fetch me. If therefore I can be sure that my presence here is not essential--"

"By all means go," said the doctor. "It may be a long time before I could allow you to see the patient; therefore you can leave without the slightest self-reproach. In fact, you can really do nothing here at present. Trust him to Lord Lewin and me; I a.s.sure you that I shall make his recovery, of which I have no doubt, a matter of personal pride and self-love."

Sallenauve pressed the doctor's hand gratefully, and started for London without delay. Arriving there at five o'clock, the travellers were unable to leave before midnight; meantime their eyes were struck at every turn by those enormous posters which English _puffism_ alone is able to produce, announcing the second appearance in Her Majesty's theatre of the Signora Luigia. The name alone was enough to attract the attention of both travellers; but the newspapers to which they had recourse for further information furnished, as is customary in England, so many circ.u.mstantial details about the prima donna that Sallenauve could no longer doubt the transformation of his late housekeeper into an operatic star of the first magnitude.

Going to the box-office, which he found closed, every seat having been sold before mid-day, Sallenauve considered himself lucky to obtain two seats from a speculator, at the enormous cost of five pounds apiece.

The opera was "La Pazza d'Amore" of Paesiello. When the curtain rose, Sallenauve, who had spent the last two weeks at Hanwell, among the insane, could all the more appreciate the remarkable dramatic talent his late housekeeper displayed in the part of Nina. Even Bricheteau, though annoyed at Sallenauve's determination to be present, was so carried away by the power of the singer that he said to his companion rather imprudently,--

"Politics have no triumphs as that. Art alone is deity--"

"And Luigia is its prophet!" added Sallenauve.

Never, perhaps, had the Italian opera-house in London presented a more brilliant sight; the whole audience was in a transport of enthusiasm, and bouquets fairly rained upon the stage.

As they left the theatre, Bricheteau looked at his watch; it was a quarter to eleven; they had thus ample time to take the steamer leaving, as the tide served, at midnight. But when the organist turned to make this remark to Sallenauve, who was behind him, he saw nothing of his man; the deputy had vanished!

Ten minutes later the maid of the Signora Luigia entered her mistress's dressing-room, which was filled with distinguished Englishmen presented by Sir Francis Drake to the new star, and gave her a card. On reading the name the prima donna turned pale and whispered a few words to the waiting-woman; then she seemed so anxious to be rid of the crowd who were pressing round her that her budding adorers were inclined to be angry. But a great singer has rare privileges, and the fatigue of the part into which the _diva_ had just put so much soul seemed so good an excuse for her sulkiness that her court dispersed without much murmuring.

Left alone, the signora rapidly resumed her usual dress, and the directors' carriage took her back to the hotel where she had stayed since arriving in London. On entering her salon she found Sallenauve, who had preceded her.

"You in London, monsieur!" she said; "it is like a dream!"

"Especially to me," replied Sallenauve, "who find you here, after searching hopelessly for you in Paris--"

"Did you take that pains?--why?"

"You left me in so strange a manner, and your nature is so rash, you knew so little of Paris, and so many dangers might threaten your inexperience, that I feared for you."

"Suppose harm did happen to me; I was neither your wife, nor your sister, nor your mistress; I was only your--"

"I thought," said Sallenauve, hastily, "that you were my friend."

"I was--under obligation to you," she replied. "I saw that I was becoming an embarra.s.sment in your new situation. What else could I do but release you from it?"

"Who told you that you were an embarra.s.sment to me? Have I ever said or intimated anything of the kind? Could I not speak to you, as I did, about your professional life without wounding so deeply your sensibility?"

"People feel things as they feel them," replied Luigia. "I had the inward consciousness that you would rather I were out of your house than in it. My future you had already given me the means to secure; you see for yourself it is opening in a manner that ought to rea.s.sure you."

"It seems to me so brilliant that I hope you will not think me indiscreet if I ask whose hand, more fortunate than mine, has produced this happy result."

"That of a great Swedish n.o.bleman," replied Luigia, without hesitation.

"Or rather, I should say, as the friend of a lady who took an interest in me, he procured me an engagement at Her Majesty's Theatre; the kind encouragement of the public has done the rest."

"Say, rather, your own talent; I was present at the performance this evening."

Making him a coquettish courtesy, Luigia said,--

"I hope you were satisfied with your humble servant."

"Your musical powers did not surprise me, for those I knew already; but those transports of dramatic pa.s.sion, your powerful acting, so sure of itself, did certainly astonish me."

"It comes from having suffered much," replied Luigia; "suffering is a great teacher."

"Suffered? Yes, I know you did, in Italy. But I have liked to feel that after your arrival in France--"

"Always; I have always suffered," she said in a voice of emotion. "I was not born under a happy star."

"That 'always' seems like a reproach to me," said Sallenauve, "and yet I do not know what wrong I can have done you."

"You have done me no wrong; the harm was there!" she cried, striking her breast,--"within me!"

"Probably some foolish fancy, such as that of leaving my house suddenly, because your mistaken sense of honor made you think yourself in my way."

"Not mistaken," she replied. "I know what was in your thoughts. If only on account of what you had done for me, I knew I could never aspire to your esteem."

"But, my dear Luigia, I call such ideas absurd. Have I ever shown you any want of consideration? How could I? Your conduct has always been exemplary."

"Yes, I tried to do everything that would give you a good opinion of me; but I was none the less the widow of Benedetto."

"What! can you suppose that that misfortune, the result of a just vengeance--"

"Ah! no, it is not the death of that man that lowered me in your eyes; on the contrary. But I had been the wife of a buffoon, of a police-spy, of a base man, ready to sell me to any one who would give him money."

"As long as that situation lasted, I thought you deeply to be pitied; but despised, never!"

"And," continued the Italian, more excitedly, "we had lived two years under the same roof, you and I alone."

"Yes, and I found my comfort in it."

"Did you think me ugly?"

"You know better than that, for I made my finest statue from you."

"Foolish?"

"No one was ever foolish who could act such a part as you did to-night."