sob. "But all hope is not lost,
is it, monsieur?" she asked in a beseeching voice, with hands clasped
in passionate entreaty. "You will save him, will you not--you will save
him?"

"One may always hope for the best."

This was the doctor's only answer. He had drawn his case of instruments
from his pocket, and was testing the points of his lancets on the tip
of his finger. When he had found one to his liking: "I must ask you,
mademoiselle," said he, "to order these women to retire, and to retire
yourself. The men will remain to assist me, if I require help."

She obeyed submissively, but instead of returning to her own room,
she remained in the hall, seating herself upon the lower step of the
staircase near the door, counting the seconds, and drawing a thousand
conjectures from the slightest sound.

Meanwhile, inside the room, the physician was proceeding slowly, not
from temperament however, but from principle. Dr. Jodon--for such was
his name--was an ambitious man who played a part. Educated by a "prince
of science," more celebrated for the money he gained than for the cures
he effected, he copied his master's method, his gestures, and even the
inflections of his voice. By casting in people's eyes the same powder as
his teacher had employed, he hoped to obtain the same results: a large
practice and an immense fortune. In his secret heart he was by no means
disconcerted by his patient's condition; on the contrary, he did not
consider the count's state nearly as precarious as it really was.

But bleeding and cupping alike failed to bring the sick man to
consciousness. He remained speechless and motionless; the only result
obtained, was that his breathing became a trifle easier. Finding his
endeavors fruitless, the doctor at last declared that all immediate
remedies were exhausted, that "the women" might be allowed to return,
and that nothing now remained but to wait for the effect of the remedies
he was about to prescribe, and which they must procure from the nearest
chemist.

Any other man would have been touched by the agony of entreaty contained
in the glance that Mademoiselle Marguerite cast upon the physician as
she returned into the room; but it did not affect him in the least. He
calmly said, "I cannot give my decision as yet."

"My God!" murmured the unhappy girl; "oh, my God, have mercy upon me!"

But the doctor, copying his model, had stationed himself near the
fireplace, with his elbow leaning on the