stiny was over, and that the
brilliant Star which had glittered on the firmament of Europe for a
quarter of a century had by the will of God now irretrievably declined.
He had accepted Crystal's ministrations for his comfort with a look of
gratitude. Jeanne had put a pillow to his head, and he lay now outwardly
placid and quiescent.

Even, perhaps--for such is human nature and such the heart of youth--as
he saw Crystal's sweet face bent with so much pity toward him a sense
of hope, of happiness yet to be, chased the more melancholy thoughts
away. Crystal was kind--he argued to himself--she has already
forgiven--women are so ready to forgive faults and errors that spring
from an intensity of love.

He sought her hand and she gave it--just as a sweet Sister of Mercy and
Gentleness would do, for whom the individual man--even the enemy--does
not exist--only the suffering human creature whom her touch can soothe.
He persuaded himself easily enough that when he pressed her hand she
returned the pressure, and renewed hope went forth once more soaring
upon the wings of fancy.

Then the doctor came. M. le Comte had been fortunate in securing
him--had with impulsive generosity promised him ample payment--and then
brought him along without delay. He praised Mlle. de Cambray for her
kindness to the patient, asked a few questions as to how the accident
had occurred, and was satisfied that M. de Marmont had slipped on the
tiled floor and then struck his head against the door. He was not likely
to examine the purple bruises on the patient's throat: his business
began and ended with a broken leg to mend. As M. le Comte de Cambray
assured him that M. de Marmont was very wealthy, the worthy doctor most
readily offered his patient the hospitality of his own house until
complete recovery.

He then superintended the lifting of the sick man on to the stretcher,
and having taken final leave of M. le Comte, Mademoiselle and all those
concerned and given his instructions to the bearers, he was the first to
leave the house.

M. le Comte, pleasantly conscious of Christian duty toward an enemy
nobly fulfilled, nodded curtly to de Marmont, whom he hated with all his
heart, and then turned his back on an exceedingly unpleasant scene,
fervently wishing that it had never occurred in his house, and equally
fervently thankful that the accident had not more fateful consequences.
He retired to his smoking-room, calling to St. Genis and to Crystal to