s brought
to him, asleep, for it was near midnight. Placing his hand upon her
head, he said, "Poor child! may you be less unfortunate than the rest
of your family."

The wound ceased to bleed externally, and its inward flow threatened
suffocation. The duke's physician, M. Boujou, endeavored to restore
circulation by sucking the wound. "What are you doing?" exclaimed the
duke. "For God's sake stop! Perhaps the poniard was poisoned."
Respiration was now very difficult, and the hand of the duke was
clammy with the damp of death. As a last resort, the surgeon, with
his knife, opened and enlarged the wound. The duke, grasping the hand
of the duchess, patiently bore the painful operation, and then said,
"Spare me further pain."

Turning to his wife, whom he tenderly loved, he said, "Caroline, take
care of yourself for the sake of our infant, which you bear in your
bosom."

The duke and the duchess of Orleans, being immediately summoned, were
the first of the relatives to arrive in this chamber of death. They
were speedily followed by the Count d'Artois, the father of the
sufferer, and by the Duke d'Angouleme, his elder brother. Other
members of the royal family soon arrived. In the feeble accents of
approaching death, the duke inquired,

"Who is the man who has killed me? I wish I could see him, to inquire
into his motives. Perhaps it is some one whom I have unconsciously
offended. Would that I might live long enough to ask the king to
pardon him. Promise me, my father, promise me, my brother, to ask of
the king the life of that man."

Another touching scene, of a very delicate nature, which I can not
refrain from recording occurred in this solemn hour. It was manifest
to the duke, as well as to all of his friends, that before the hour
should expire the spirit of the dying would pass to the tribunal of
that God in whose presence both prince and peasant are alike. The
memory of all past sins, in such an hour, often crowds the soul with
its tumultuous array. In whispering tones, inaudible to others, a few
words were interchanged between the dying man and his wife. Then two
illegitimate children, who were born to the duke when he was an exile
in London, were brought in. It seems that he had ever recognized them
as his own, and that they had been protected and fostered by both
himself and his lawful wife.

As these children entered the chamber, and knelt, sobbing
convulsively, at their father's dying bed, the duke embrac