Was there no one
could help her?
Standing there, half-frenzied by her helplessness, she caught again
a sound of vehicles and hooves on the cobbles of the street below.
A carriage was approaching. It drew up with a clatter before the
fencing-academy. Could it be Andre-Louis returning? Passionately
she snatched at that straw of hope. Knocking, loud and urgent, fell
upon the door. She heard Andre-Louis' housekeeper, her wooden shoes
clanking upon the stairs, hurrying down to open.
She sped to the door of the anteroom, and pulling it wide stood
breathlessly to listen. But the voice that floated up to her was
not the voice she so desperately hoped to hear. It was a woman's
voice asking in urgent tones for M. Andre-Louis - a voice at first
vaguely familiar, then clearly recognized, the voice of Mme. de
Plougastel.
Excited, she ran to the head of the narrow staircase in time to hear
Mme. de Plougastel exclaim in agitation:
"He has gone already! Oh, but how long since? Which way did he
take?"
It was enough to inform Aline that Mme.
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