ordained, there
occurred to him an unfortunate and disastrous thought. He could not
resist the desire to see Mlle. Moriaz once more, to impress forever
on his memory her adored image. He turned, and their eyes met. He paid
dearly for this weakness of the will. Apparently the violent restraint
that he had exercised over himself for an hour had exhausted his
strength. It seemed to him that his heart ceased to beat; he felt his
legs stiffen, and refuse to serve him; his teeth clinched, his pupils
dilated, consciousness forsook him. Suddenly, heavily as a mass of
lead, he fell prone upon the floor, where he remained in a senseless
condition.

Mlle. Moriaz could not suppress a cry, and seemed for a moment on the
point of fainting herself. Mme. de Lorcy drew her arm around her waist,
and hurried her into the next room, throwing to M. Langis a bottle of
salts as she did so, and saying, "Take care of Count Larinski."

The first thing that M. Langis did was to set the bottle on the
table, after which he went close up to Samuel Brohl, who, fainting
and inanimate, bore almost the appearance of death. He examined him
an instant, bent over him, then, folding his arms and shrugging his
shoulders, he said to him, "Monsieur, Mlle. Moriaz is no longer here."

Samuel Brohl did not stir. "You did not hear me," continued Camille.
"You are superb, M. le Comte; you are very handsome; your attitude is
irreproachable, and you might well be taken for a dead person. You
fell admirably; I swear I never saw at the theatre a more successful
fainting-fit; but spare yourself further trouble for the performance. I
repeat, Mlle. Moriaz is no longer here."

Samuel Brohl remained inert and rigid.

"Perhaps you want to try the strength of my wrists," continued Camille.
"Very well, I will give you that satisfaction."

And, with these words, he seized him round his waist, summoned all his
strength in order to lift him, and deposited him at full length on the
sofa.

He examined him again, and said: "Will this tragi-comedy last much
longer? Shall I not find a secret to resuscitate you? Listen to me,
monsieur. I love with all my soul the woman that you pretend to love.
Does that not suffice? Monsieur, you are a Polish adventurer, and I have
as much admiration for your social talents as I have little esteem for
yourself. Does that not suffice yet? I would not, however, lift my hand
to you. I entreat you to consider the affront received."

It seemed a