me yet?" No one answered.
The most profound terror reigned throughout the house. "If I had
anything by means of which I could inflate the lungs," said d'Avrigny,
looking around him, "perhaps I might prevent suffocation. But there is
nothing which would do--nothing!" "Oh, sir," cried Barrois, "are you
going to let me die without help? Oh, I am dying! Oh, save me!"

"A pen, a pen!" said the doctor. There was one lying on the table; he
endeavored to introduce it into the mouth of the patient, who, in the
midst of his convulsions, was making vain attempts to vomit; but the
jaws were so clinched that the pen could not pass them. This second
attack was much more violent than the first, and he had slipped from the
couch to the ground, where he was writhing in agony. The doctor left him
in this paroxysm, knowing that he could do nothing to alleviate it, and,
going up to Noirtier, said abruptly, "How do you find yourself?--well?"

"Yes."

"Have you any weight on the chest; or does your stomach feel light and
comfortable--eh?"

"Yes."

"Then you feel pretty much as you generally do after you have had the
dose which I am accustomed to give you every Sunday?"

"Yes."

"Did Barrois make your lemonade?"

"Yes."

"Was it you who asked him to drink some of it?"

"No."

"Was it M. de Villefort?"

"No."

"Madame?"

"No."

"It was your granddaughter, then, was it not?"

"Yes." A groan from Barrois, accompanied by a yawn which seemed to crack
the very jawbones, attracted the attention of M. d'Avrigny; he left M.
Noirtier, and returned to the sick man. "Barrois," said the doctor, "can
you speak?" Barrois muttered a few unintelligible words. "Try and make
an effort to do so, my good man." said d'Avrigny. Barrois reopened his
bloodshot eyes. "Who made the lemonade?"

"I did."

"Did you bring it to your master directly it was made?"

"No."

"You left it somewhere, then, in the meantime?"

"Yes; I left it in the pantry, because I was called away."

"Who brought it into this room, then?"

"Mademoiselle Valentine." D'Avrigny struck his forehead with his hand.
"Gracious heaven," exclaimed he. "Doctor, doctor!" cried Barrois, who
felt another fit coming.

"Will they never bring that emetic?" asked the doctor.

"Here is a glass with one already prepared," said Villefort, entering
the room.

"Who prepared it?"

"The chemist who came here with me."

"Drink it," said the doctor to Barrois. "Impossible, doctor; i