Émile de Girardin had his framed, and kept it as a precious heirloom:—
Je vous embrasse cette nouvelle année. Je ne pensais pas, cher ami, pouvoir encore, en 1858, vous envoyer ma sincère affection.
The doctor, who was called in at the last moment, has left an interesting account of these few hours before her death. On entering the sick-room, he saw that the phthisis had entered the third and last stage. Her face was as white as the pillow on which it lay; the voice was broken and weak. The spark of life still remaining seemed concentrated in the wondrous eyes; their expression was indescribable. She talked sensibly with those around her. "Ah, Sarah," she said to her sister, "I have been thinking of Polyeucte all night. If you only knew what new, what magnificent effects I have conceived! In studying, take my word for it, declamation and gesture are of little avail. You have to think, to weep."
On the 3rd of January 1858, at eleven o'clock in the evening, twenty-nine hours after the arrival of the doctor, she passed away. To the very last she was conscious of the presence of those she loved. When her hand was already cold in death, she stretched it towards them, seeking theirs, and, when her lips could no longer formulate a word, she made a sign of eternal farewell. She did not forget her duty, either, towards those dependent on her. She gave directions about her affairs, arranging every minute detail like a traveller starting on a long journey, rather than a person facing death. During the night of the 2nd and 3rd she dictated her will, until obliged to stop from fatigue. On the 3rd, at nine o'clock in the morning, she had a violent attack of suffocation. When the crisis was past, she
