and the bell was not
answered."

No one ventured to reply, and in her surprise she cast a hasty glance
around. From where she stood, she could not see the bed stationed in an
alcove; but she instantly noted the dejected attitude of the servants,
the clothing scattered about the floor, and the disorder that pervaded
this magnificent but severely furnished chamber, which was only lighted
by the lamp which M. Bourigeau, the concierge, carried. A sudden dread
seized her; she shuddered, and in a faltering voice she added: "Why are
you all here? Speak, tell me what has happened."

M. Casimir stepped forward. "A great misfortune, mademoiselle, a
terrible misfortune. The count----"

And he paused, frightened by what he was about to say.

But Mademoiselle Marguerite had understood him. She clasped both hands
to her heart, as if she had received a fatal wound, and uttered the
single word: "Lost!"

The next moment she turned as pale as death, her head drooped, her eyes
closed, and she staggered as if about to fall. Two maids sprang forward
to support her, but she gently repulsed them, murmuring, "Thanks!
thanks! I am strong now."

She was, in fact, sufficiently strong to conquer her weakness. She
summoned all her resolution, and, paler than a statue, with set teeth
and dry, glittering eyes, she approached the alcove. She stood there for
a moment perfectly motionless, murmuring a few unintelligible words; but
at last, crushed by her sorrow, she sank upon her knees beside the bed,
buried her face in the counterpane and wept.

Deeply moved by the sight of this despair, the servants held their
breath, wondering how it would all end. It ended suddenly. The girl
sprang from her knees, as if a gleam of hope had darted through her
heart. "A physician!" she said, eagerly.

"I have sent for one, mademoiselle," replied M. Casimir. And hearing
a voice and a sound of footsteps on the staircase, he added: "And
fortunately, here he comes."

The doctor entered. He was a young man, although his head was almost
quite bald. He was short, very thin, clean-shaven, and clad in black
from head to foot. Without a word, without a bow, he walked straight to
the bedside, lifted the unconscious man's eyelids, felt his pulse, and
uncovered his chest, applying his ear to it. "This is a serious case,"
he said at the close of his examination.

Mademoiselle Marguerite, who had followed his movements with the most
poignant anxiety, could not repress a