She grasped the cane there at hand and stood helpless, screaming for Dimple. Then she began to walk – or rather drag her feet along the floor, slowly and with painful effort, shaking and leaning heavily upon her stick.
Madame did not think it strange or miraculous that she should be moving thus upon her tottering limbs, which for two years had refused to do their office. Her whole attention was bent upon reaching the press in her bedroom across the hall. She clutched the brass key; she had let all the other keys go, and she said nothing now but “Volè, volè, volè!”
Madame Solisainte managed to reach the room without other assistance than the chairs in her way afforded her, and the walls along which she propped her body as she sidled along. Her first thought upon unlocking the press was for her gold. Yes, there it was, all of it, in little piles as she had so often arranged it. But half the silver was gone; half the jewels and table linen.
When the servants began to congregate in the yard, they discovered Madame Fèlicie standing upon the gallery waiting for them. They uttered exclamations of wonder and consternation. Dimple became hysterical, and began to cry and scream out.
“Go an’ fin’ Richmond,” said Madame to Daniel, and without comment or question he hurried off in search of the overseer.
“I will ‘ave the law! Ah! par example! pas possible! to be rob’ in that way! I will ‘ave the law. Tell Lablatte I will not pay the bills. Mandy, go back the the quarters, an’ sen’ Susan to the kitchen. Dimple! Go an’ carry all those book’ an’ magazine’ up in the attic, an’ put on you’ other dress. Do not let me fin’ you array in those flounce’ again! Pas possible! volé comme ça! I will ‘ave the law!”
