"To be sure you could. When shall we start, dear uncle? I am so anxious to go! When shall we start?"
"There! there! Don't get excited about it; that will interfere with the gastric juices. Let us conclude our dinner quietly. Try a wing of that pheasant, while we discuss the matter with wholesome calmness."
Bertha allowed herself to be helped to the wing, and tried to force down a few morsels for the sake of humoring the generously inclined _bon vivant_, who grew more and more genial and amiably disposed as he sipped his Château Margaux. Fine wine invariably had a softening, expansive effect upon his character, and, after a few glasses, he honestly looked upon himself as one of the most tender-hearted, soberly inoffensive, and morally disposed of mortals.
If Bertha had openly proposed to him that they should spend a few weeks in Paris for the gratification of any praiseworthy intention of her own, or of any harmless whim, he would have unhesitatingly refused, and opposed any number of objections to the proposition; but she had introduced the subject in its most favorable light, and was sure of a victory.
A few days later, the Marquis de Merrivale and his niece, attended by her maid, his valet and cook, were on their way to the metropolis. The marquis, having instituted many inquiries with the view of discovering what hotel rejoiced in the possession of the most scientific cook, concluded to engage a suite of apartments at the hotel _des Trois Empereurs_.
The meeting between Bertha and Maurice was as full of tenderness as though they had been in reality what their strong family resemblance caused them to appear, brother and sister.
"No word from Madeleine yet?" was Bertha's first inquiry,--hardly an inquiry, for she knew what the answer must be.
Then Maurice told her of the _soeur de bon secours_ who had sat by his bed night after night.
"Could it really have been Madeleine?" she asked, breathlessly.
"M. de Bois seems to think not; yet I am unshaken in my conviction that it was she herself."
"A feeling which I can scarcely define withheld me. At first I thought I was dreaming, and that the dream would be broken if I spoke or moved. Then I felt sure Madeleine was there, but that she believed herself unrecognized, and if I showed that I knew her she would leave me,--leave me when I could not follow, and must again have lost all trace of her. It was such a luxury, such a joy to feel her by my side! It was her presence and not the skill of the physician which restored me."