“Of course, you know you can do so. But what can be the matter? Your note of this morning has completely bewildered me. This precipitation—this unusual appointment. Come, ease me of my anxiety, or else frighten me at once.”
“Lucien, a great event has happened!” said the lady, glancing inquiringly at Lucien—“ M. Danglars left last night!”
“Left?— M. Danglars left? Where has he gone?”
“I do not know.”
“What do you mean? Has he gone intending not to return?”
“Undoubtedly;—at ten o’clock at night his horses took him to the barrier of Charenton; there a post-chaise was waiting for him—he entered it with his valet de chambre, saying that he was going to Fontainebleau.”
“Then what did you mean—”
“Stay—he left a letter for me.”
“A letter?”
“Yes; read it.”
And the baroness took from her pocket a letter which she gave to Debray.
Debray paused a moment before reading, as if trying to guess its contents, or perhaps while making up his mind how to act, whatever it might contain.
No doubt his ideas were arranged in a few minutes, for he began reading the letter which caused so much uneasiness in the heart of the baroness, and which ran as follows: