“I assure you, sir,” replied the baroness, somewhat confused, “that being unacquainted with any of the events which have taken place since the departure of my father, I no longer occupy my time but in deploring his absence.”
“Madame! Madame!” said Gilbert, shaking his head, “the State messengers are so familiar with the road that leads to the château of St. Ouen, that at least one bearer of despatches must have arrived during the four hours that have elapsed since the capitulation of the Bastille.”
The baroness saw that it was impossible for her to deny it without positively lying. She abhorred a falsehood; she therefore changed the subject of the conversation.
“And to what lucky event do I owe your visit, sir?” asked she.
“I wished to have the honor of speaking to Monsieur de Necker, Madame.”
“But do you know that he is no longer in France?”
“Madame, it appeared to me so extraordinary that Monsieur de Necker should be absent, so impolitic that he should not have watched the course of events—”
“That—”
“That I relied upon you, I must confess, Madame, to tell me where I could find him.”
“You will find him at Brussels, sir.”
Gilbert fixed his searching gaze upon the baroness.
“Thank you, Madame,” said he, bowing; “I shall then set out for Brussels, as I have matters of the highest importance to communicate to him.”
Madame de Staël appeared to hesitate, then she rejoined:—
“Fortunately I know you, sir,” said she, “and I know you to be a man of serious character. ‘Tis true, important things might lose a great deal of their value by passing through other lips. But what can there be of importance to my father, after his disgrace—after what has taken place?”
“There is the future, Madame; and perhaps I shall not be altogether without influence over the future. But all these reflections are to no purpose. The most important thing for me, and for him, is, that I should see Monsieur de Necker. Thus, Madame, you say that he is at Brussels?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It will take me twenty hours to go there. Do you know what twenty hours are during a revolution, and how many important events may take place during twenty hours? Oh! how imprudent it was for Monsieur de Necker, Madame, to place twenty hours between himself and any event which might take place—between the hand and the object it desires to reach.”
“In truth, sir, you frighten me,” said Madame de Staël, “and I begin to think that my father has really been imprudent.”
“But what would you have, Madame? Things are thus, are they not I have, therefore, merely to make you a most humble apology for the trouble that I have given you. Adieu, Madame.”
But the baroness stopped him.
“I tell you, sir, that you alarm me,” she rejoined; “you owe me an explanation of all this; you must tell me something that will reassure me.”
“Alas! Madame,” replied Gilbert, “I have so many private interests to watch over at this moment, that it is impossible for me to think of those of others; my life and honor are at stake, as would be the life and honor of Monsieur de Necker if he could take advantage of the words which I shall tell him in the course of twenty hours.”
“Sir, allow me to remember something that I have too long forgotten; it is that grave subjects ought not to be discussed in the open air, in a park, within the reach of every ear.”
“Madame,” said Gilbert, “I am now at your house, and permit me to observe that consequently it is you who have chosen the place where we now are. What do you wish? I am entirely at your command.”
“I wish you to do me the favor to finish this conversation in my cabinet.”
“Ah! ah!” said Gilbert to himself, “if I did not fear to confuse her, I would ask her whether her cabinet is at Brussels.”
But without further question he contented himself with following the baroness, who began to walk quickly toward the château.
The same servant who had admitted Gilbert was found standing in front of the house. Madame de Staël made a sign to him, and opening the doors herself, she led Gilbert into her cabinet, a charming retreat, more masculine, it is true, than feminine, of which the second door and the two windows opened into a small garden, which was not only inaccessible to others, but also beyond the reach of all strange eyes.