g human in it, he exclaimed:
"Marguerite!--despoiled!--take care!--your mother!" And this was all--it
was the supreme effort that broke the last link that bound the soul to
earth.

"A priest!" cried Madame Leon! "A priest! In the name of Heaven, go for
a priest!"

"Rather for a notary," suggested M. Casimir. "You see he wishes to make
a will."

But at that moment the physician entered, pale and breathless. He walked
straight to the bedside, glanced at the motionless form, and solemnly
exclaimed: "The Count de Chalusse is dead!"

There was a moment's stupor--the stupor which always follows death,
especially when death comes suddenly and unexpectedly. A feeling of
mingled wonder, selfishness, and fear pervaded the group of servants.
"Yes, it is over!" muttered the doctor; "it is all over!"

And as he was familiar with these painful scenes, and had lost none
of his self-possession, he furtively studied Mademoiselle Marguerite's
features and attitude. She seemed thunderstruck. With dry, fixed eyes
and contracted features, she stood rooted to her place, gazing at the
lifeless form as if she were expecting some miracle--as if she still
hoped to hear those rigid lips reveal the secret which he had tried in
vain to disclose, and which he had carried with him to the grave.

The physician was the only person who observed this. The other occupants
of the room were exchanging looks of distress. Some of the women had
fallen upon their knees, and were sobbing and praying in the same
breath. But Madame Leon's sobs could be heard above the rest. They were
at first inarticulate moans, but suddenly she sprang toward Mademoiselle
Marguerite, and clasping her in her arms, she cried: "What a misfortune!
My dearest child, what a loss!" Utterly incapable of uttering a word,
the poor girl tried to free herself from this close embrace, but the
housekeeper would not be repulsed, and continued: "Weep, my dear young
lady, weep! Do not refuse to give vent to your sorrow."

She herself displayed so little self-control that the physician
reprimanded her with considerable severity, whereat her emotion
increased, and with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, she sobbed:
"Yes, doctor, yes; you are right; I ought to moderate my grief. But
pray, doctor, remove my beloved Marguerite from this scene, which is too
terrible for her young and tender heart. Persuade her to retire to her
own room, so that she may ask God for strength to bear the misfort