She showed herself nowhere; and the Vicomte de Chagny tried
in vain to meet her. He wrote to her, asking to call upon her,
but despaired of receiving a reply when, one morning, she sent
him the following note:
MONSIEUR:
I have not forgotten the little boy who went into the sea
to rescue my scarf. I feel that I must write to you to-day,
when I am going to Perros, in fulfilment of a sacred duty.
To-morrow is the anniversary of the death of my poor father,
whom you knew and who was very fond of you. He is buried there,
with his violin, in the graveyard of the little church, at the bottom
of the slope where we used to play as children, beside the road where,
when we were a little bigger, we said good-by for the last time.
The Vicomte de Chagny hurriedly consulted a railway guide,
dressed as quickly as he could, wrote a few lines for his valet
to take to his brother and jumped into a cab which brought him
to the Gare Montparnasse just in time to miss the morning train.
He spent a dismal day in town and did not recover his spirits
until the evening, when he was seated in his compartment in the
Brittany express.
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