Madame de Franchi had not yet retired1 to rest, although she had gone upstairs, and she had left a message with Griffo to request her son to go into her room before she went to bed.
The young man first inquiring whether I was in want of anything, and on my reply in the negative, begged to be excused, to wait upon his mother.
Of course I acknowledged the politeness, and leaving him, went up to my own room.
I entered it with a certain feeling of self congratulation. I was pleased that I had divined the character of Louis, as I had found out Lucien’s.
I undressed deliberately2, and having taken down a volume of Victor Hugo’s works, I lay down and enjoyed myself thoroughly3 with Les Orientales.
For the hundredth time I came upon Le Feu du ciel, and re-read it once more. I was fully4 occupied thus, when I fancied I heard a step upon the staircase, which stopped at my door. I suspected that my host had paused outside, wishing to bid me good-night, but scarcely liking5 to venture in for fear I should be asleep; so I cried out “Come in,” and put my book upon the table.
In fact, as I spoke6 the door opened, and Lucien appeared.
“I trust you will excuse me,” he said; “but it seems to me that I have been somewhat rude this evening, and I did not like to retire without making my excuses to you. So I have come to make the amende honorable—and as I daresay you have a number of questions to ask I am quite at your disposal.”
“A thousand thanks,” I replied; “but, thanks to your good nature, I am already well informed upon most topics concerning which I desired information, and there only remains7 one question, which I have made up my mind not to ask.”
“Why?”
“Because it would appear too impertinent. However, if you remain here I confess I cannot answer for myself. I give you fair warning!”
“Well, then, go on. Curiosity unsatisfied is an uncomfortable companion, and awakens8 all kinds of suppositions; and two, at least, out of every three guesses concerning a fact are sure to be quite wide of the mark, and more likely to prejudice the object than to arrive at the truth concerning it.”
“Well, you may rest easy. My worst suspicions concerning you lead me to regard you as a sorcerer!”
The young man laughed loudly.
“The devil! You have inoculated9 me with some of your curiosity: tell me why, I entreat10 you—speak out!”
“Well, then, you have had the kindness to clear up many things which were before obscure to me; but one thing you did not touch upon. You have shown me your beautiful weapons, which I should like to examine again before my departure.”
“Granted. That’s one reason.”
“You have explained to me the inscriptions11 upon the carbines.”
“That’s another reason.”
“You have made it clear to me that, thanks to the phenomenon of your birth, you always experience—although far away from him, the same sensations that agitate12 your brother, and no doubt he feels equally your troubles.”
“That is a third reason for your belief in my sorcery!”
“Yes, but Madame de Franchi, when referring to the sadness you lately have experienced, and which leads you to think that some misfortune threatens your brother, asked you if you were sure he were not dead, and you replied ‘No, for then I should have seen him.’ ”
“Yes, I remember I did say so.”
“Well, then, if such an explanation may be entrusted13 to a stranger, will you explain to me how this could happen?”
The young man’s face had assumed a very grave expression as I was speaking, and I hesitated to pronounce the last words.
He was silent for a moment after I ceased to speak, and I said—
“I am afraid that I have been too indiscreet; pray forget that I spoke on the subject at all.”
“No,” he replied, quietly; “no, but you are a man of the world, and as such inclined to be somewhat incredulous. So, you see, I am rather afraid you will treat as a superstition14 an old family tradition which has been handed down for centuries.”
“Listen,” I said. “I can declare one thing, and that is that no one is more easily convinced than I am on all questions of legendary15 or traditionary lore—and I am always ready to give credence16 to things regarded as impossible!”
“So you believe in ghosts?”
“Do you wish to hear me tell how I saw one?”
“Yes, that will encourage me.”
“My father died in 1807, when I was three and a-half years old. When the doctor announced his speedy death I was sent away to the house of an old cousin in the country.
“She had made up a bed for me opposite her own, to which I was sent at the usual time, and, notwithstanding the trouble hanging over me, I feel fast asleep.
“I was suddenly awakened18 by three violent blows upon the door of the chamber19; I got out of bed and walked across the floor to open it.
“ ‘Where are you going?’ asked my cousin.
“She had herself been awakened by the noise, but could not overcome her terror, knowing very well that as the front door was fastened no one would be likely to come to the room in which we were sleeping.
“ ‘I am going to open the door to my father, who has come to bid me adieu,’ I replied.
“It was then she jumped out of bed and insisted upon my lying down again. I cried for a long time and very bitterly, saying, ‘Papa is at the door, and I want to see papa again before he goes away for ever.’ ”
“And has the apparition20 ever returned since?” asked Lucien.
“No, although I have often called upon it; but, perhaps, Providence21 permitted to the innocence
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