"DR. DE RIVIL."
The Countess stared at her husband with great, fixed eyes, full of terror. Then suddenly she experienced, like an electric shock, an awakening of that courage which comes to women at times, which makes them in moments of terror the most valiant of creatures.
Turning to her maid she said: "Quick! I am going to dress."
"What will Madame wear?" asked the servant.
"Never mind that. Anything you like. James," she added, "be ready in five minutes."
Returning toward her room, her soul overwhelmed, she noticed the cabman, still waiting, and said to him: "You have your carriage?"
"Yes, Madame."
"That is well; we will take that."
Wildly, with precipitate haste, she threw on her clothes, hooking, clasping, tying, and fastening at hap-hazard; then, before the mirror, she lifted and twisted her hair without a semblance of order, gazing without thinking of what she was doing at the reflection of her pale face and haggard eyes.
When her cloak was over her shoulders, she rushed to her husband's room, but he was not yet ready. She dragged him along.
"Come, come!" said she; "remember, he may die!"
The Count, dazed, followed her stumblingly, feeling his way with his feet on the dark stairs, trying to distinguish the steps, so that he should not fall.
The drive was short and silent. The Countess trembled so violently that her teeth rattled, and through the window she saw the flying gas-jets, veiled by the falling rain. The sidewalks gleamed, the Boulevard was deserted, the night was sinister. On arriving, they found that the painter's door was open, and that the concierge's lodge was lighted but empty.
At the top of the stairs the physician, Dr. de Rivil, a little gray man, short, round, very well dressed, extremely polite, came to meet them. He bowed low to the Countess and held out his hand to the Count.
She asked him, breathing rapidly as if climbing the stairs had exhausted her and put her out of breath:
"Well, doctor?"
"Well, Madame, I hope that it will be less serious than I thought at first."
"He will not die?" she exclaimed.
"No. At least, I do not believe so."
"Will you answer for that?"
"No. I only say that I hope to find only a simple abdominal contusion without internal lesions."
"What do you call lesions?"
"Lacerations."
"How do you know that there are none?"
"I suppose it."
"And if there are?"
"Oh, then it would be serious."
"He might die of them?"
"Yes."
"Very soon?"
"Very soon. In a few minutes or even seconds. But reassure yourself, Madame; I am convinced that he will be quite well again in two weeks."
She had listened, with profound attention, to know all and understand all.
"What laceration might he have?"
"A laceration of the liver, for instance."
"That would be very dangerous?"
"Yes--but I should be surprised to find any complication now. Let us go to him. It will do him good, for he awaits you with great impatience."
On entering the room she saw first a pale face on a white pillow. Some candles and the firelight illumined it, defined the profile, deepened the shadows; and in that pale face the Countess saw two eyes that watched her coming.
All her courage, energy, and resolution fell, so much did those hollow and altered features resemble those of a dying man. He, whom she had seen only a little while ago, had become this thing, this specter!
"Oh, my God!" she murmured between her teeth, and she approached him, palpitating with horror.
He tried to smile, to reassure her, and the grimace of that attempt was frightful.
When she was beside the bed, she put both hands gently on one of Olivier's, which lay along his body, and stammered: "Oh, my poor friend!"
"It is nothing," said he, in a low tone, without moving his head.
She now looked at him closely, frightened at the change in him. He was so pale that he seemed no longer to have a drop of blood under his skin.
His hollow cheeks seemed to have been sucked in from the interior of his face, and his eyes were sunken as if drawn by a string from within.
He saw the terror of his friend, and sighed: "Here I am in a fine state!"
"How did it happen?" she asked, looking at him with fixed gaze.
He was making a great effort to speak, and his whole face twitched with pain.
"I was not looking about me--I was thinking of something else--something very different--oh, yes!--and an omnibus knocked me down and ran over my abdomen."
As she listened she saw the accident, and shaking with terror, she asked: "Did you bleed?"
"No. I am only a little bruised--a little crushed."