The voice which she had heard in the next room
was--as she now knew--the voice that haunted Romayne. Not the words
that had pleaded hunger and called for bread--but those other words,
"Assassin! assassin! where are you?"--rang in her ears. She entreated
Madame Marillac to break the unendurable interval of silence. The
widow's calm voice had a soothing influence which she was eager to feel.
"Go on!" she repeated. "Pray go on!"
"I ought not to lay all the blame of my boy's affliction on the duel,"
said Madame Marillac. "In childhood, his mind never grew with his bodily
growth. His brother's death may have only hurried the result which was
sooner or later but too sure to come. You need feel no fear of him. He
is never violent--and he is the most beautiful of my children. Would you
like to see him?"
"No! I would rather hear you speak of him. Is he not conscious of his
own misfortune?"
"For weeks together, Stella--I am sure I may call you Stella?--he is
quite calm; you would see no difference outwardly between him and other
boys. Unhappily, it is just at those times that a spirit of impatience
seems to possess him.
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