"I go at once, madame."

"Stay." Manicamp paused. "When you hear the footsteps of two women
descending the stairs, go out, and, without once turning round, take the
road which leads to where the poor comte is lying."

"But if, by any mischance, two other persons were to descend, and I were
to be mistaken?"

"You will hear one of the two clap her hands together very softly. So
go."

Manicamp turned round, bowed once more, and left the room, his heart
overflowing with joy. In fact, he knew very well that the presence of
Madame herself would be the best balm to apply to his friend's wounds. A
quarter of an hour had hardly elapsed when he heard the sound of a door
being opened softly and closed with the same precaution. He listened to
the light footfalls gliding down the staircase, and then heard the
signal agreed upon. He immediately went out, and, faithful to his
promise, bent his way, without once turning round his head, through the
streets of Fontainebleau toward the doctor's dwelling.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

M. MALICORNE THE KEEPER OF THE RECORDS OF THE REALM OF FRANCE.

Two women, whose figures were completely concealed by their mantles, and
whose masks effectually hid the upper portion of their faces, timidly
followed Manicamp's steps. On the first floor, behind curtains of red
damask, the soft light of a lamp, placed upon a low table, faintly
illumined the room, at the other extremity of which, on a large bedstead
supported by spiral columns, around which curtains of the same color as
those which deadened the rays of the lamp had been closely drawn, lay De
Guiche, his head supported by pillows, his eyes looking as if the mists
of death seemed gathering there; his long black hair, scattered over the
pillow, set off the young man's hollowed and pale temples to great
advantage. It could be easily perceived that fever was the principal
occupant of that chamber. Guiche was dreaming. His wandering mind was
pursuing, through gloom and mystery, one of those wild creations which
delirium engenders. Two or three drops of blood, still liquid, stained
the floor. Manicamp hurriedly ran up the stairs, but paused at the
threshold of the door, looked into the room, and, seeing that everything
was perfectly quiet, he advanced toward the foot of the large leathern
armchair, a specimen of furniture of the reign of Henry IV., and seeing
that the nurse, as a matter of course, had dropped off to sleep, he
awoke her, and begg