efforts.
Then they placed him in a large arm-chair, carried him to his own room,
and speedily had him undressed and in bed.

He had so far given no sign of life; and as he lay there with his head
weighing heavily on the pillow, you might have thought that all was
over. His most intimate friend would scarcely have recognized him. His
features were swollen and discolored; his eyes were closed, and a dark
purple circle, looking almost like a terrible bruise, extended round
them. A spasm had twisted his lips, and his distorted mouth, which was
drawn on one side and hung half open imparted a most sinister expression
to his face. In spite of every precaution, he had been wounded as he was
removed from the cab. His forehead had been grazed by a piece of iron,
and a tiny stream of blood was trickling down upon his face. However,
he still breathed; and by listening attentively, one could distinguish a
faint rattling in his throat.

The servants, who had been so garrulous a few moments before, were
silent now. They lingered in the room, exchanging glances of mute
consternation. Their faces were pale and sad, and there were tears in
the eyes of some of them. What was passing in their minds? Perhaps they
were overcome by that unconquerable fear which sudden and unexpected
death always provokes. Perhaps they unconsciously loved this master,
whose bread they ate. Perhaps their grief was only selfishness, and they
were merely wondering what would become of them, where they should find
another situation, and if it would prove a good one. Not knowing what to
do, they talked together in subdued voices, each suggesting some remedy
he had heard spoken of for such cases. The more sensible among them were
proposing to go and inform mademoiselle or Madame Leon, whose rooms
were on the floor above, when the rustling of a skirt against the door
suddenly made them turn. The person whom they called "mademoiselle" was
standing on the threshold.

Mademoiselle Marguerite was a beautiful young girl, about twenty years
of age. She was a brunette of medium height, with big gloomy eyes shaded
by thick eyebrows. Heavy masses of jet-black hair wreathed her lofty but
rather sad and thoughtful forehead. There was something peculiar in
her face--an expression of concentrated suffering, and a sort of proud
resignation, mingled with timidity.

"What has happened?" she asked, gently. "What is the cause of all
the noise I have heard? I have rung three times