Mlle. Fouchette Part 29

Now his friend Lerouge and he had quarrelled,--exchanged blows. They had wrangled before, but within the bounds of student friendship.

Blows had now changed this friendship to hatred. Blows from those whom we love are hardest to forgive,--they are never forgotten.

Yet it was not this friendship in itself that particularly concerned Jean Marot. Through it he had calculated on reaching something more vital to his happiness.

Henri Lerouge had introduced him to Mlle. Remy. It was in the Jardin du Luxembourg. They had met but for a brief minute. The presentation had been coldly formal,--reluctant. Yet in that time, in the midst of the usual conventionalities, Jean had looked into a pair of soulful blue eyes that had smiled upon him, and Jean was lost.

His hope of meeting her again lay in and through Lerouge,--and now they had quarrelled; and about a Jew!

The fine blonde hair and slender figure of this girl--this "child of the police"--had reminded Jean of Mlle. Remy. She possessed the same kind of hair. It was this mental a.s.sociation that prompted him to carry the unknown to his own lodgings as described. This impulse of compa.s.sion and a.s.sociation was strengthened by his narrow escape from being her slayer. In fact, it was the best thing to have done under all the circ.u.mstances.

Now that the causes and the impulse had disappeared together, he began to feel bored. The "child of the police" was in his way,--the police might look after her. Jean Marot had troubles of his own.

As for Fouchette, she silently regarded the motionless figure at the window, wondering, thinking, on her part, of many things. When it had disappeared in the adjoining room she beckoned to the doctor.

"The young man, Monsieur Marot?" she asked, feebly. "Is this his----"

"It is his apartment, mademoiselle," the doctor antic.i.p.ated.

"Tell me----"

"Monsieur Marot found you in the street near by, after the riot of the 25th of October, and brought you here,--temporarily, you know."

"Monsieur Marot is very good," she murmured.

"Excellent young man!" said the doctor. "A trifle obstinate, but still a very excellent young man, mademoiselle."

The girl was silent for a minute, as if lost in thought.

"Is this his--his bedchamber, doctor?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"I must be moved," she said, promptly. "You understand? I must be removed at once. Take me to a hospital, please!"

"Oh, don't excite yourself about it, my child. Soon enough--when you are able."

"What day of the month is----"

"This? The 5th of November."

"Ten days! Ten days!"

"Yes,--you have had a narrow call, mademoiselle."

"And I owe my life to you, doctor."

"To Monsieur Marot, mademoiselle."

"Ah! but you----"

"If it hadn't been for him I would never have seen you, child."

He spoke very gently and in a subdued voice that reached only her ear.

Another pause.

"It is all the more important that I should not trouble him,--disturb him any longer than necessary. You understand?"

"Very truly, mademoiselle," replied he; "very thoughtful of you,--very womanly. It does you credit, Mademoiselle Fouchette."

"What? You, then, know my name?"

"Certainly." The doctor observed her surprise with a genial smile.

"I am very grateful,"--that they should know her for what she was and yet have been so good to her moved her deeply,--"I am very grateful, monsieur. But how did you know it was me, Fouchette?"

"Well, there is one man in Paris who knows you----"

"Inspector Loup?" she asked, quickly.

"Inspector Loup," said he.

"And he knows where I am,--certainly, for he knows everything,--everything!"

"Not quite, possibly, but enough."

"I must see Inspector Loup, doctor; yes, I must see him at once. When was he here?"

"Within the hour in which you were brought," said the doctor.

He was not disposed to be communicative on the subject of the Secret Service, or about its director, having a healthy contempt for the system of official espionage deemed necessary to any sort of French government, Royalist, Napoleonic, or Republican. And he wondered what mysterious band could unite the interests of this charity child with the interests of the government of France.

"Where are my clothes, doctor?" she suddenly inquired, half raising herself on her elbow.

"Oh! la, la! Why, you can't go now! It is impossible! The inspector can come and see you here, can't he?"

"But where are my clothes? Are they----"

"They're here, all right."

"Let me see them, please."

"Very good; but don't get excited,--n.o.body will run away with them; bless my soul! n.o.body has had them except--except the nurse and Inspector Loup."

"He?"

"Yes, mademoiselle,--for identification."

"Oh!"