It indeed seemed to her as if the floor swayed to and
fro under her feet, as if the walls tottered, as if the ceiling
were about to fall and crush her.
Madame de Fondege sprang forward. "What is the matter, my
dearest?"
Alas! the poor girl was utterly overcome. "It is but a trifle,"
she faltered. But her eyes closed, her hands clutched wildly for
some support, and she would have fallen to the ground if the baron
had not caught her in his arms and carried her to a sofa. "Help!"
cried Madame de Fondege, "help, she is dying!--a physician!"
But there was no need of a physician. One of the maids came with
some fresh water and a bottle of smelling salts, and Marguerite
soon recovered sufficiently to sit up, and cast a frightened
glance around her, while she mechanically passed her hand again
and again over her cold forehead. "Do you feel better my
darling?" inquired Madame de Fondege at last.
"Yes."
"Ah! you gave me a terrible fright; see how I tremble." But the
worthy lady's fright was as nothing in comparison with the
curiosity that tortured her. It was so powerful, indeed, that she
could not control it. "What has happened?" she asked.
"Nothing, madame, nothing."
"But----"
"I am subject to such attacks. I was very cold, and the heat of
the room made me feel faint."
Although she could only speak with the greatest difficulty, the
baron realized by her tone that she would never reveal what had
taken place, and his attitude and relief knew no bounds.
Pages:
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450