m.

"My wife!" said he, in a weak voice.

Madame de Bergenheim arose and forced her way through the group that
surrounded the mattress, and silently took her place beside her husband.
Her features had changed so terribly within a few moments that a murmur
of pity ran through the group of men that filled the room.

"Take my sister away," said Christian, disengaging his hand from the
young girl, who was covering it with kisses and tears.

"My brother! I can not leave my brother!" exclaimed Aline, as she was
dragged away rather than led to her room.

"Leave me for a moment," continued the Baron; "I wish to speak to my
wife."

Mademoiselle de Corandeuil gave Monsieur de Gamier a questioning glance,
as if to ask if it were best to grant this request.

"We can do nothing before the doctors arrive," said the latter, in a low
voice, "and perhaps it would be imprudent to oppose him."

Mademoiselle de Corandeuil recognized the correctness of this
observation, and left the room, asking the others to follow her. During
this time, Madame de Bergenheim remained motionless in her place,
apparently insensible to all that surrounded her. The noise of the
closing door aroused her from her stupor. She looked around the room
as if she were seeking the others; her eyes, which were opened with the
fixed look of a somnambulist, did not change their expression when they
fell upon her husband.

"Come nearer," said he, "I have not strength enough to speak loud."

She obeyed mechanically. When she saw the large red stain which had
soaked Christian's right sleeve, she closed her eyes, threw back her
head, and her features contracted with a horrified expression.

"You women are wonderfully fastidious," said the Baron, as he noticed
this movement; "you delight in causing a murder, but the slightest
scratch frightens you. Pass over to the left side; you will not see so
much blood-besides, it is the side where the heart is."

There was something terrible in the irony of the voice in which he spoke
at this moment. Clemence fell upon her knees beside him and took his
hand, crying,

"Pardon! pardon!"

The dying man took away his hand, raised his wife's head, and, looking
at her a few moments attentively, he said at last:

"Your eyes are very dry. No tears! What! not one tear when you see me
thus!"

"I can not weep," replied she; "I shall die!"

"It is very humiliating for me to be so poorly regretted, and it
does you little honor--t