e your old Leon capable of losing
herself in sleep, when your future depends upon a word from that poor
man lying there?"

"Pray, cease."

"Ah, no! my dear young lady; my love for you compels me."

"Oh, enough!" interrupted Mademoiselle Marguerite; "enough, Leon!"

Her tone was so determined that the housekeeper was compelled to yield;
but not without a deep sigh, not without an imploring glance to Heaven,
as if calling upon Providence to witness the purity of her motives and
the usefulness of her praiseworthy efforts. "At least, my dear lady,
wrap yourself up warmly. Shall I go and bring you your heavy travelling
shawl?"

"Thanks, my dear Leon--Annette will bring it."

"Then, pray, send for it. But we are not going to watch alone? What
should we do if we needed anything?"

"I will call," replied Marguerite.

This was unnecessary, for Dr. Jodon's departure from the house had put
an abrupt termination to the servants' conference; and they were now
assembled on the landing, anxious and breathless, and peering eagerly
into the sick-room.

Mademoiselle Marguerite went toward them. "Madame Leon and myself will
remain with the count," she said. "Annette"--this was the woman whom
she liked best of all the servants "Casimir and a footman will spend the
night in the little side salon. The others may retire."

Her orders were obeyed. Two o'clock sounded from the church-tower near
by, and then the solemn and terrible silence was only broken by the
hard breathing of the unconscious man and the implacable ticktack of the
clock on the mantel-shelf, numbering the seconds which were left for
him to live. From the streets outside, not a sound reached this princely
abode, which stood between a vast courtyard and a garden as large as a
park. Moreover, the straw which had been spread over the paving-stones
effectually deadened the rumble of the few vehicles that passed.
Enveloped in a soft, warm shawl, Madame Leon had again taken possession
of her arm-chair, and while she pretended to be reading a prayer-book,
she kept a close watch over her dear young lady, as if she were striving
to discover her in-most thoughts. Mademoiselle Marguerite did not
suspect this affectionate espionage. Besides, what would it have
mattered to her? She had rolled a low arm-chair near the bedside, seated
herself in it, and her eyes were fixed upon M. de Chalusse. Two or three
times she started violently, and once even she said to Madame Leon:
"Come-