Jacques is my friend:
Moyse was to have been my son."

Neither could immediately speak. At length, Toussaint signed once more
to the chamber-door, and once more said--

"Genifrede?"

"I have something to tell you--something to show you," replied Therese.
"Her sleep or stupor came upon her suddenly: but she kept a strong grasp
upon the bosom of her dress. When I laid her on the bed, she kept her
hands clasped one upon the other there. As she slept more heavily, the
fingers relaxed; her hands fell, and I saw one end of this."

She produced a phial.

"Ha! the red water!" exclaimed Toussaint.

"I thought it was," said Therese.

"Who taught her this? Who has been tampering with her, and with her
life?"

"Perhaps this may tell," said Therese, showing the ivory ring.

Toussaint closely examined the ring, and then drew his hand across his
brows.

"How strange," said he, "are old thoughts, long forgotten! This bit of
ivory makes me again a young man, and a slave. Do you remember that I
once had the care of the sick at Breda, and administered medicines?"

Therese shuddered. She remembered that when her infant was taken ill,
Papalier had sent for Toussaint, because, though Toussaint was no longer
surgeon to the quarter at Breda, he was thought to have great knowledge
and skill. Toussaint remembered nothing of this particular incident,
and was not aware how he had touched her feelings. He went on:

"I began that study as all of my race have begun it, till of late, in
superstition. With what awe did I handle charms like this! Can it be
possible that my poor child has been wrought upon by such jugglery?
What do you know about it?"

"No more than that the charm and the poison were hidden in her bosom."

"It is hard to trouble a dying man," said Toussaint, "but the survivor
must be cared for. If Moyse has poisoned her mind, as I much fear, he
would have poisoned her body--But no--it is an atrocious thought. If I
wrong him--if his love for her is faithful, he will be glad to tell me
what he knows, that her sick mind may be well tended. Father Laxabon is
coming presently, to go to Moyse, and leave him no more. I will go with
him."

"How you suffer! How you must suffer!" said Therese, again speaking her
thoughts, as she looked in his face.

"It is worse than going to my death," replied he; "but for my child's
sake--for my poor brother's sake, too--it must be done."

He could say no more. Till Father