THE AMERICAN
me; but soon he closed them and he said no more. I hid the paper in my dress; I did n't look at what was written on it, though I can read very well, sir, if I have n't a hand for the pen. I sat down near the bed, but it was nearly half an hour before my lady and the Count came in. The Marquis looked as lost as when they had left him, and I never said a word of his having revived. Mr. Urbain said the doctor had been called to a person in childbirth, but had promised to set out for Fleurières immediately. In another half-hour he arrived, and as soon as he had examined his patient he said we had had a false alarm. The poor gentleman was very low, but was still living. I watched my lady and her son, on that, to see if they looked at each other, and I'm obliged to admit they did n't. The doctor said there was no reason he should die; he had been going on so well. And then he wanted to know how he had suddenly taken such a turn; he had left him so quiet and natural. My lady told her little story again—what she had told Mr. Urbain and me—and the doctor looked at her and said nothing. He stayed all the next day at the château, and hardly left the Marquis. I was always there, and I think I may assure you at least that I lost nothing. Mademoiselle and the Vicomte came and looked at their father, but he never stirred. It was a strange deathly stupor. My lady was always about; her face was as white as her husband's, and she looked very proud and hard, as I had seen her look when her orders or her wishes had been disobeyed. It was as if the poor Marquis had gone against her intention; and the way she took it from
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