Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 34: what you’re looking at

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ne ———w JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 21 may I beseech you to place that letter in her hands? It is written with the full concurrence of my father—but on the express condition that dur- ing my absence from home, whether it be long or short, I will not again correspond with her. My father has exacted from me a pledge to this effect | —and I will keepit. I feel more tranquil in my mind now that I am going away: I am fulfilling Eugenie’s wish—and I implore heaven that my absence may give back peace and tranquillity be- neath this roof. And now, Joseph, farewell. I entertain for you the warmest feelings of gratitude and friendship But the youthful Marquis could not give utter- ance to another word—his voice was broken with sobs—he was profoundly affected. He wrung my hand—and burst from the room. The travelling- carriage was in readiness; and within a quarter of an hour he took his departure. In the forenoon of that same day the Duchess de Paulin left the mansion—attended by Adolphe, Amelie, and Florine—to pay another visit to her father’s country-seat. I was by no means sorry at this occurrence, inasmuch as I felt that I could acquit myself of my mission towards Mademoiselle Delacour without the fear of having my actions again espied. I proceeded to the residence of the banker; and on inquiring for Mademoiselle Dela- cour, was informed that she was exceedingly ill and confined to her bed. This announcement took me with surprise indeed, as it was only on the previous day that I had seen her; and though she had looked pale and desponding, yet it had not for a moment occurred to me that her health was so threatened. I learnt that on returning home after having been out shopping in the carriage, she was seized with fainting fits, and that for some hours her condition had inspired the utmost alarm. Ultimately, however, the physicians had declared that the crisis was over—she had passed a tolerably good night—and though still seriously il], was no longer considered to be in danger. I delivered the letter to one of Mademoiselle Delacour’s maids, from whose lips T had received the above intelligence; and the girl requested me to wait for a few minutes. This I did: and when she re-appeared, she said, “Mademoiselle desires me to thank you for your attention; and she begs you not to communicate the circumstance of her illness, should you have occasion to write to the person- age from whom that letter came.” I gave an assurance to that effect; and as I slowly and mournfully retraced my way to the mansion, I pondered on the young lady’s illness, which I had no difficulty in ascribing to the grief she must have experienced on learning from my lips on the preceding day how much Theobald felt his separation from her, and how he was distressed py the scenes which had been occurring at ome. CHAPTER LXXXI. THE SPY ADOLPHE. Tur Duchess remained absent for about a fort- night,—during which interval the Duke was con- stantly away from home; and as hedid not go out in his carriage nor on horseback, I could not help thinking that his visits were paid to Mademoiselle Ligny. One morning—it was the day before the return of the Duchess—the Duke went out somewhat earlier than usual — indeed immediately after breakfast ; and I availed myself of the opportu- nity to take a long ramble round the Boulevards. As I was proceeding along—being now at a con- siderable distance from the ducal mansion—I ob- served a man who was apparently lounging in an idle way against the trunk of one of the huge trees on the Boulevards. But on recognising Adolphe, my attention was as a matter of course more closely directed to him; and I saw that beneath that lounging air, he was concealing his character of a spy; for his looks were riveted upon the gateway of a house on the opposite side of the inmmense thoroughfare. He was in plain clothes; and he did not immediately notice me. Had he been all the time in Paris during the absence of the Duchess? or had he only just come up from her father’s country-seat, which was at no great dis- tance from the French metropolis P These were the questions which naturally oc- curred to me; and I could not help thinking that the man had been pursuing his execrable part of spy during the whole time of the Duchess de Paulin’s absence. Or else wherefore should he be in plain clothes? wherefore in Paris at soearly an hour—as it was scarcely eleven in the forenoon ? And then too, methought that his accompanying his mistress when she departed from the mansion, was only a subterfuge in order to throw the Duke off his guard and render it all the more easy to watch his proceedings. For that Adolphe was really watching for the Duke now, was my positive conviction,—although if it were Mademoiselle Ligny’s residence that was being thus espied, she must have changed her quarters since the last time I visited them. I stood still on thus recognising Adolphe; and upwards of a minute elapsed before he noticed me. First I beheld him give a sudden start and move more completely behind the tree,—in doing which his looks encountered mine. I instinctively glanced across the Boulevard, and caught a glimpse of the Duke de Paulin’s form as he en- tered the wicket of the gateway of the opposite house. Adolphe was seized with confusion: but quickly recovering himself, he said, “ Ah, Joseph! you are out betimes.” “And you likewise,” I observed, with a signifi- cant look. “I know what you are here for; and I should be ashamed of myself if I were you to play a detestable part which only aggravates the contentions between our master and mistress.” *‘And how dare you lecture me?” exclaimed Adolphe, suddenly assuming a very fierce de- meanour. “Because you have espied my actions also,” I answered: “and I had made up my mind that if I ever caught you doing so again, J would inflict such chastisement as to make you remember it for a long, long time afterwards.” “ At all events, 1 am not watching you now,” returned Adolphe sullenly, and also with a visible quailing and shrinking—so that I could see he was a coward notwithstanding his recently assumed air ot fierceness. “TI know you are not,” I said quietly; “and ~~ COMnicelaoolks (©)